The Thomas Builds-the-Fire Chronicles #1

very short fiction

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Thomas Builds-the-Fire decided to become a traditional Spokane Indian fisherman. So he built a spear with ten forks and a broken light saber that he’d found at the dump.

“Ah,” said his grandmother. “Skywalker is a good Indian name.”

Then she and Thomas walked to the river. He stripped down to his boxers and waded into the slow current.

"Thomas," his grandmother shouted from the shore. "There ain't no wild salmon in that river no more. They've been gone since I was a baby."

"I'm the wild one," Thomas shouted. "And wild Indians know how to dream."

Then he saw something flash silver in the water. He thrust his spear at that movement and felt one fork catch something thin. He lifted that broken light saber toward the sky and saw that he'd captured an unscratched lottery ticket.

He and his grandmother walked home where he placed that drenched ticket on the warmest windowsill. The sun did its job and dried that ticket flat. It was damaged but it seemed possible that Thomas could still scratch the ticket and maybe win a few hundred dollars. Maybe fortune could come to a rez Indian boy. Maybe he'd use that godsend to fix the brakes on his grandmother's truck.

But, no, no, no, Thomas decided that the ticket was meant for something more important. So he walked to the river and threw it back into the current that was rolling faster now. Then he sang until the water sang with him.

Maybe, he thought, all that ticket's unused luck can bring back the wild salmon.