“Been staring into that dark so long now everything’s moving. When’s sunup?” Cleve Bentley said, turning away from the clearing east of Beargrass Creek.
“S’posed to be a while ago,” said his partner, Israel Keene.
“Then where’s the sun?” Cleve said
“Damned if I know, but keep watching that tree line. Shawnee’ll be coming first light.”
“If there is any. That old hag Ben killed said we’d never see sunrise. She was just tryin’ to scare us, right?”
“She was’,” Israel said.
“Well, Ben sure ain’t gonna see it. I turned around and he was gone.”
“They probably saw the old lady’s hair on his belt and knew he was the one killed her. I’d’a killed him, too.”
“Israel, something is happening out there,” Cleve said.
“Damn, maybe they ain’t waiting.”
“I see one!”
“Settle down. I’ll move around and…”
But Cleve’s rifle flared and spit a slug at the approaching form.
“I got him,” Cleve shouted. “Gotta make sure he’s dead.”
”Wait!” Israel said, but Cleve had already crept away to where he thought he saw someone seconds before.
“Oh Christ! It’s Ben. I gone and killed…” Cleve said just before arrows pierced his ribs.
“Cleve?” Israel whispered. Two bodies lay outlined in something like a promise of day as the moon’s shadow began edging away from the sun.
A Shawnee man also emerged from the new shadows, ensuring his grandmother’s predictions — of an eclipse and the white mens’ fate — with a blow from his warclub.
Sunrise finally had come.
Here’s a 250-word flash fiction piece I wrote for Siobhan Muir’s weekly Thursday Threads feature. I felt the need to do a new story from my old genre, frontier and western. Had to use the phrase “something is happening.” So I envisioned this scene in 1770s Kentucky. It needs a hell of a lot more character depth, setting description and, oh I don’t know, a plot? But I wrote it, which is a big deal for me these days.