The story goes that when bank robber Wells Duluth was shot dead, the bullet came out the other side encased in ice. The former fire & brimstone preacher had left his wife and children for a life of crime. It was spring in Cheyenne, Wyoming, but by nightfall the temperature fell from 55 degrees to 15 below. Beers turned to popsicles. Geese screamed from the river, legs locked in ice. A black cloud sagged to earth, crushing the church. They cremated Duluth in the iron welder’s stove, and by morning the cherry blossoms had bloomed, blowing through town like snow.
An amazing story! Makes me want to know more about Wells Duluth!
Thank you. A real story in a few minutes. Wonderful
Whoa.
I can just about breathe again.
I’m using this as an example of flash fiction in my high school creative writing class.
Lovely! So glad you are sharing it!
felt every word like a knife, wow
Thank you for saying so!
Wow! I could feel the cold. Ouch! The geese with their legs locked in ice. Oh my…so poignant and beautiful. I bow down, Sir.
No bowing allowed. Your kind words are everything!
Brilliant, poetic simplicity. Love it.
Thank you for reading, John!