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Hector Running Wolf and Billy Youngston


dontravis.com blog post #366

 

 
A Running Wolf -
Courtesy of Free Images
Wow! Got a lot of hits on The Voxlightner Scandal last week. Hope every one of them buys a copy of the book.


This week, a piece of flash fiction by my fellow Oklahoman Mark Wildyr caught my eye. It’s short and pithy and gets its point across in a hurry… which is the object of such short-short pieces. At any rate, it’s something he posted on his web site in July of 2016. He’s given me permission to post it on my site.


Here goes. Hope you enjoy the read.



*****

HECTOR RUNNING WOLF AND BILLY YOUNGSTON

By Mark Wildyr

“Billy?”

“Huh?”

“You wanna do it?”

My back went cold from goosebumps while my groin caught fire. We were out in the woods at the old lean-to we’d made back when we were kids. It wasn’t the first time I’d thought about what he was saying. Not by a long shot. But Hector was a coyote, which was a trickster in his culture. Sometimes he’d come out with these outlandish suggestions and then make a joke of them. Mostly they were for fun, but sometimes they bit.

I didn’t even know why we were best friends. Sons of a white farmer and a Creek carpenter, we were an unlikely pair. White sugar and red pepper, my mom used to say with a shake of her head. But friends we were, ever since we’d laid eyes on one another in middle school five years back.

I remember the first time we went skinny dipping together the summer after we met. We came out of the water with him examining me like I was a mule he was intent on buying, while I snatched furtive glimpses of his equipment. That pretty well summed up the difference between us.

As time went by, our friendship strengthened. On my part, it was almost exclusive, but he was lots more social than I was. I admit to being jealous of his other friends. Seemed like they shared lots more with him than I did. Of course, they did… an entire culture. But it gradually dawned on me that I got more of his time than any of the others. Shoot, than all the others, and that was what counted.

I didn’t know if half a minute or half an hour had passed since he asked his question, but I answered it anyway.

“Don’t make no difference to me one way or the other.”

The air seemed charged with electricity like when a storm’s approaching. The surrounding pines dropped their sharp scent on us like it was a tangible thing. I grew aware of strange things. The toes in my boots. A beetle crawling over the back of my right hand. A squirrel fussing from the oak tree overhead. And the long, lanky form of Hector Running Wolf lying beside me.

The world turned normal again as disappointment rose within me. I took a breath and tried to relax my taunt nerves.

And then he reached for me.


*****

I wonder what they did? Was it fumbling kid’s stuff? Or did Hector Running Wolf turn it into a real experience for Billy Youngston. Mark’s story allows you to finish it according to your own fantasy. Have at it!


The following are buy links for The Voxlightner Scandal.



Now my mantra: Keep on reading and keep on writing. You have something to say, so say it!


My personal links: (Note the change in the Email address because I’m still getting remarks on the old This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.. PLEASE DON’T USE THAT ONE.)

                                                                                                    

Email: This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..

Facebook: www.facebook.com/donald.travis.982

Twitter: @dontravis3


Buy links to Abaddon’s Locusts:



See you next week.


Don


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