Welcome to Morgen’s Online Short Story Writing Group and the first story on this blog. This piece is a 660-word western by Nathan Weaver.
Please do comment in the section below telling us what you liked about this story and, what if anything, the author could do to improve upon it. Thank you – it’s very much appreciated! (My comments are underneath Nathan’s bio :))
Mine Own Land
“Let me tell you what I know about the pale men who came from the waters. Their skin is like the sun has never seen it; they came out from the waters on large homes they had built with the trees. Upon their faces, like the beasts, hair does grow and some have more hair on their faces than others. They can talk to each other like the birds of the air, but they do not understand us and we cannot understand them. They wear all sorts of strange coats of skin, but they feel nothing like our beasts. They eat strange foods that quickly wither away.
“The first time they came to our village, they were not aggressive. But in their eyes, you could see they were uneasy. Like the beasts are when they fear what we might do to them. They walked all about my village, talking to each other in their strange tongue. One pale man kept writing unseen things.
“The second time they came, the sticks they had carried on their backs and at their sides they now held in their hands. The sticks made thunder and threw as it were pebbles into our skin. Many of my people died from the pebbles. We tried to fight them off, but their pebbles flew faster than our arrows and spears. On their bodies they wore shiny, rock-like skins and our weapons could not penetrate them.
“I am not aware of any who have survived from my village. I stand before you as the last of my people. Tears fill my eyes and embrace my face, because my family and friends have all gone to meet our Mother. I stand with tears, because I did nothing. I ran.