Mirinda Hart
Bio
Member of the Round Valley Indian Tribes (Wailaki), Bachelor’s in History & NAS, generational story-teller. I like to tell historical fiction stories from the American West, but also dabble in other genres.
Stories (2/0)
The Mountain Knows Your Name
“It’s a job,” he muttered, “a dirty, rotten, Goddamn shameful job,” he spit, sending a brown ball of tobacco encased saliva splatting against a flat rock. “I have a wife…a family. A man has to do what a man has to do!” Grizzly whinnied and shook her head, laughing as her rider tried to convince himself he wasn’t a hypocrite. Jim and Grizzly had been riding together for some time now and her disapproval was not lost on him. They met on these same trails that fateful day Jim encountered a grizzly; he lost three fingers, but that bear lost his life. It wasn’t something he wanted to do, killing that bear, and he sure as hell didn’t want to haul its heavy ass home with a mangled arm. As he expressed his emotions through a flurry of profanities and kicks to the dead bear, a shy palomino poked her head out from the woods and shook her head in judgment. The two have been inseparable ever since.
By Mirinda Hart2 years ago in Fiction
Orchid Birch
Blood dripped from her teeth and bits of flesh dangled from her fingertips as she rose from her crouched position over the lifeless body she’d been feasting on. Three more gathered, their teeth bared, the hair on their necks raised “Orchid Birch, we have a warrant for your arrest for crimes against humanity.”
By Mirinda Hart3 years ago in Fiction
