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Fiction |
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Off To See The Wild West Show Part 1, Chapter 12
(2/7)
By Frank Beill
1886: Hull, Yorkshire
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(1/7),
(2/7),
(3/7),
(4/7),
(5/7),
(6/7),
(7/7).
Part 1
Chapter 1,
2,
3,
4,
5,
6,
7,
8,
9,
10,
11,
12,
13,
14,
15,
16,
17,
18,
19,
20.
Part 2
Prologue,
Chapter 1,
2,
3.
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'Ger off!' I yelled. One of the children tried to nip a chunk out of my arm. I'd felt in less danger when the warriors took me prisoner. Laughing Waters just giggled at my predicament.
A woman intervened and shooed the others away. From her manner and the deference shown to her by the others she was obviously a senior squaw. She looked like an older version of Laughing Waters but for some time most of them were going to look like Laughing Waters to me, although none were as pretty as my new sister.
'Are you my mother?' I asked.
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The woman gave me a look of incomprehension.
'Yes, she is your new mother but she does not know it yet!' My sister was still finding the situation amusing.
I was having second thoughts about my decision. Red Shirt believed the makings of a warrior were in me but I wasn't so sure. In my imagination I'd always been on the side of his sworn enemies anyway. There was still time to follow George back to the orphanage.
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Laughing Waters began chattering with her mother and the others. They were using words I wasn't going to understand for a long while yet but my new mother's attention wasn't on her daughter. She was smiling at me. No one had smiled at me in this way for a long time, not even Mrs G. It made me want to cry but if I were to become a Sioux warrior I would have to start behaving like one.
'Our mother is called Yellow Flower.'
'Do I have a father ... and brothers and sisters?' I wanted to know all about my new family. 'Our father is called Dog That Stands.'
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I was disappointed not to be the son of Red Shirt himself. 'And you have two more sisters. Red Shirt thinks our family needs a son!'
The others sidled back to their places around the blazing logs. Laughing Waters continued speaking to our mother who was still smiling at me. It was making me feel embarrassed. I was unaccustomed to prolonged signs of affection. After receiving this information our mother went back into the crowd where she began shouting what appeared to be instructions to the others.
'Mother is getting some new clothes for you to wear.'
'Where from?' There were no wagons or tents and definitely no sign of a potential Mr Silver. The Emigrant Shed where I knew the Lakota were staying was miles away on the dockside. My inquisitiveness made her laugh. 'Someone else is wearing them.'
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'Someone else?' Should I be appalled by what she was saying? 'Things do not belong to people. People are what belong. We belong to our land and we belong to each other.' Again miles of perfect white teeth gleamed. 'You are with your people now. Our world is different from the white man's world.'
As someone who owned nothing but an old dime novel adapting to this new philosophy wasn't going to be difficult.
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Fiction - Off To See The Wild West Show Part 11 (1886: Hull, Yorkshire) By Frank Beill
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We waited standing back to back, hoping this would give us some protection. The tribesmen slowly circled us, just as they would when attacking a wagon train of settlers on its way to California. Well, this is what my novel said they did.
Occasionally, a warrior would prod one of us. One snatched a hair from George's head before rushing back within the group
to display his strange booty.
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Sometimes your best is just not enough.
Panic stricken and panting I arrive.
There it is, a fucking huge wall. An obstacle blocking my progress.
A visible representation of all that I can't achieve.
Nervously I look behind me. I lash out at it, kicking and punching but to no avail.
It is rock solid. I jump but find it too high. I take a running jump
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"Mein Führer? Mein Führer?" The old man in the long grey coat was bent over the body slumped in the chair.
"Give it a few more seconds, Henry," said the doctor. "Do you speak any German? It might lessen the shock." No, Henry didn't speak any German and he didn't much care about any shocks he might deliver.
Behind the heavy oak chair,
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Fiction - Off To See The Wild West Show Part 10 (1886: Hull, Yorkshire) By Frank Beill
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'So how are we gonna get in?' George kicked a loose stone across the street.
'We've got to circle the camp and look for a weakness in their defences. That's what Buffalo Bill would do.' I was not certain what my hero would do, but I thought my scheme had the right sound to it.
'Aye, but it's Buffalo Bill we're wanting to attack.
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Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Inspector Gadget and Battle of the Planets.
Be worth something to an animaphile out there.
I will stick it on eBuy-GUM, the online Global Underground Marketplace.
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Fiction - Off To See The Wild West Show Part 9 (1886: Hull, Yorkshire) By Frank Beill
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'Not seen nowt like it!' George was sitting on his favourite seat - the kitchen doorstep. 'Them horses was wonderful.'
Dinner was over and most of my stew was inside him as well as his own double portion.
'But it was me father.' I was not listening and stamped my foot.
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He was sweating and his head was throbbing - the general effects of the weekend
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For a taster, see the extract reproduced below, only available
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