Staring off into outer regions,
as the rain and wind smash against the window to the motel room.
Inside the room is an old Indian chief from the old rainbow days
of the brother of the spirit.
Sitting there this old, wrinkled
but strong man is remembering times past when he was young and
a brave warrior, fighting white men, killing enemy natives.
All this racing through the wrinkled mans head.
The most terrible fight he
had in his life was with the most common killer amongst the native
people "Alcohol" He lost his family to this horrible
poison along with many friends.
It all started when the white
men came to his village in search of native goods to bargain
for. Jewelry, blankets, animal skins, and sometimes in search
of native women. Trading all of these items for what? A liquid
the white men call "booze" but the Indians have another
name for this liquid "Hades water" or "Fire Water"
the burning feeling it leaves in your mouth and the fiery lake
it leaves pooling in your stomach.
This water was so addictive
to the native people and especially to the chief, he had more
power and could get more "Fire water". This noble leader
even killed a fellow native for dropping a bottle and shattering
He was so over taken and obsessed
with this water he demanded more, and more, and more.
This village at one time was
the wealthiest in the western plains states, as soon as the chief
began his booze and drinking spree the wealth of the village
began to tumble like a mud slide.
He did not care about the economy
only his booze, other native villagers began to see the village
crumble and would sneak off during the night and never return,
some villagers would even kill themselves rather than to see
the village and all of it's people perish.
The village eventually got
down to only the chief and his family, the booze was consumed
by the gallons.
One day some traders came to
the village to trade goods, but all the goods had been traded
away to the previous white men, then the hazing booze took over
the chief's mind and he traded his family for a case of booze.
He engulfed the entire case
in two days, as the last drop from the last bottle touched his
lips, he slipped into a coma. As he woke in a cold and chilling
sweat, the rain was thrashing against the window to the motel
As he sat there staring out
the window he quietly asked himself, "Where are all of my
people, where is my family?" A voice from deep within his
spirit cries to him, "You destroyed all of them with your
obsession for the white man's drink.
After he hear's the crying
voice, he slips into eternity as the .30-.30 round makes a shattering
blast of thunder in the stillness of his room.