Tiny Tuesday – “Stonewall’s Curse”

18 Sep

Stonewall Jackson clapped a hand to his gut to stem the pulsing flow. His other scratched at the ground, pulling his useless legs through the dust. The smoke and screams were dull noise; fading slowly. Not important now.

He grit his teeth as a cannonball thudded down nearby, spraying him with soil and sending his boys flying apart. The old bear kept moving. Git there, y’varmint, he thought, coughing blood. Just a piece away now.

The overturned wagon had spilled. Stonewall laid his body on top of the bullion pile, breathing an ancient oath. Blood and gold sparkled in the sun.

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