Daily Archives: March 18, 2017

White-Skunk seeks medicine III…

*

‘Please stop when you remember

We work together

Anyway

All right.’

– Shaman Blues

*

…That night as Skunk was going along he came to the camp of the Clever Fellows.

He saw them all far off because there was such a lot of them.

And he could see something else as well, shooting between them one to the other, sparkling like lightning as it went.

Skunk’s beady black eyes lit up at the sight of his musk-sac and as he approached closer to the camp he was thinking all the while on how he might retrieve his power.

“I’ll make an exchange with them,” thought Skunk.

Just then the musk-sac was cast out of the circle in his direction.

Scooting along the ground it came and Skunk swiftly turned around and the musk-sac ran up and into his body.

At the same time Skunk hurled the shrub-sac back into the circle of Clever Fellows who continued to fire it one to the other until its sparkle died out.

Before that happened Skunk had scampered away thinking, “If they catch me they will kill me.”

When the shrub-sac had puttered out the Clever Fellow’s wanted to know what had happened.

“I saw Skunk skulking around awhile back,” said one of them. “He must have switched his musk-sac for this dud.”

But by then Skunk was far away, hiking swiftly along the valley.

“Now I shall visit my vengeance on all those who found my musk-sac so repulsive,” he thought to himself…

*

Original tales

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

A picture is worth a thousand words by HikingArtist

I was writing late last night and, on re-reading what I had written became aware of an odd juxtaposition of certain words. They took me straight back to a book where a particular passage had left its mark. There was no thought of copying; no intent to re-use or appropriate the work of another writer, and what I had noticed was no more than three words long. Perhaps it was the context rather than the phrase that had been the reminder. Even so, it got me thinking.

With all the words that have been written by the human hand over the millennia, are there any that have been left unsaid? Can we ever write without plagiarising, consciously or unconsciously the work of another who has gone before? I remember reading once that Shakespeare had summarised every human emotion in his work. That is open to debate, of course, and the…

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