Sifting through the dirt to get to the gold
"Wabigoon shook his head. "Those girls, hitchhiking. No choice, eh? The buses don't run up north anymore. You hear that old joke about the Anishnabe woman hitchhiking? She gets into a truck and there's a big bottle of booze in the passenger seat. 'Got that for my old man' the driver says. And the Anishnabe... Continue Reading →
The body looked like all the others: a female bound at the wrists and ankles, blood-oozing welts criss-crossing her buttocks, crushed larynx; most of all, her palate was pierced with that wickedly shaped fishing hook for controlling her while she endured the unspeakable. Yet, one thing distinguished her from the other corpses: she was thawing... Continue Reading →
“The old man looked hard at the shotgun locked in place between them, aimed up at the sky, then raised his cup, took the longest drink in the history of long drinks. ‘Only one place to be if you’re Indian tonight,’ he said, and winked at Jim Doe. ‘Put your ear to the ground, you... Continue Reading →
bindblottyandcajole 