Wednesday, August 18, 2021

Blackthorne Episode 139



image from westernpulpcovers.com

 Blackthorne


Cinemagenic 139


Ignition


“Decision is the spark that ignites action”.

--Wilferd Peterson.


1(sound cue) French horns & harmonica.

2(medium close up) Buck stopped, and turned

around, 

3(medium wide shot) seeing Ryker slumped in 

unconsciousness, and the Palomino rearing and 

squirming in his stall. He wrap-reined the 

Appaloosa, and rushed back. He unlatched the

stall gate, and the Palomino burst out and

charged for the rear door. Buck snatched up the

rope rein and Chatawa pranced behind him, smoke

already in its wide nostrils. Buck could hear the

two other horses crying out in panic.

4(sound cue) snare drum over fire crackling.

5(close up) the fire found some dry straw and it

burst into a frenzy, racing across the south end

of the barn.

6(one shot) Ryker regained consciousness, and

immediately panicked, struggling against his bonds,

kicking and jerking, screaming against the rag in

his throat, watching the flames burning their way

toward him, both fascinated and petrified. The heat

from the fire began to scorch his shirt, and its demon 

tongue began to burn the skin on his face. He closed

his eyes. He could smell his hair burning. For a 

moment the pain was unbearable, until shock dulled

the heat. He knew he was screaming, but it sounded

far away. He could feel a dripping as the flesh began

to melt on his face. Then he saw his dead wife in the

flames, saw her reach for him.

7(cut to outside) Buck swung up onto the dappled

stallion’s back. The palomino had galloped off south,

toward the dark mountains. 

8(sound cue) Castanets and horses crying out.

9(close up) Chatawa’s nostrils flared, and his ears

lie flat to his regal head,

10(medium wide shot) Buck leaned forward, and

lightly nudged the horse’s sides. The stallion’s 

hooves dug into the clay, and it scampered up the

steepest part in five leaps. Soon they reached the 

safety of the darkness in the timber. Buck swung

down and led the magnificent Appaloosa through

the thick ebon trees. Crackling through the brambles

and underbrush, they soon reached the three

hundred yards to where he had picketed the dun 

mare. He secured Chatawa to a scrub oak branch,

and struck out again, working his way southeast.

Now his eyes had adjusted to the night, and he

moved rapidly through the dense growth, moving

like a ghost, like a demon in the dark. He emerged

well beyond the barn, near a brush-choked gully.

11(sound cue) coronet and seed rattle over men

yelling.

12(wide shot) By this time the barn was an inferno,

the flames leaped into a starry sky hundreds of

feet. Bright sparks and hot cinders swirled in the

air like angry squadrons of fireflies. Buck could

clearly hear men shouting, Jesus Christ! Find more

buckets! Poor fucking horses!  He could catch

glimpses of busy shadows rushing between the

barn and the ranch house. 

  He worked his way into the gully, and moved along

and in it until he was past the barn, near the

mountain road. He could feel the heat from the flames

from where he crouched. The fire had spread to some

of the work sheds. Two dozen men cursed and labored

back and forth from three large water troughs and the

flames, tossing cold stream water on the behemoth 

blaze, the howling inferno. 

Just pissing on the sun, Buck thought.

  Staying in the shadows, the hunter crawled along

close to the ground. The huge barn became a colossal

torch burning back the night. He lie at the edge of the

first corral, only a hundred yards from the house. He

checked his dynamite sticks. They were intact, and

ready for battle.

  A rider came galloping into the yard from the south;

his travel dust was visible in the fire’s glare. He pulled

up in the middle of the yard. He was greeted by two

hands that rushed out of the bunkhouse, jerking on their

jeans, wearing long john tops, rubbing the sleep from

their eyes. The rider was Paul Bronson. 

13(medium close up) What the fuck is happening?

his whisky breath strong in the air.



Glenn Buttkus 


Posted over at d'Verse Poet's Pub OLN

9 comments:

Merril D. Smith said...

Never a dull moment! Buck's language makes me chuckle. I can't believe you've been writing this for eight years, Glenn!

Lucy said...

Ahhh, this is so good! So thrilling and exciting. :D

Dwight L. Roth said...

Burning is an awful way to die! i can't imagine what it much be like. Your vivid images really bring the story to life.

JadeLi said...

Why they had to mess with Buck until they created a vengeful maniac is a mystery, but they are going to get the receiving end of it up close and personal. I hope they all die agonizing lingering deaths. (I'm glad Buck let the palomino out.)

Ingrid said...

The description of Ryker's death was graphically disturbing - I love the last line too. This story is on fire!

Sanaa Rizvi said...

Damn what an entry by Bronson!! I love the quick pace and heart thumping action in this one, Glenn! Can't believe this incredible saga has been going on for eight years! And now, we await the finale 💝💝

robkistner said...

Your work throughout the episodes of this Blackthorn epic has been superb Glenn, You have a genuine gift as a storyteller brother. In addition to this screenplay, which I am horoughly enjoying, I would love to see you self-publish it as a novel — when you have finished. I want a copy! I would love to read it that way, to just get absorbed in the purity of the plot. Excellent work!

Glenn Buttkus said...

Oh Rob, you old charmer. Back in the day I envisioned BLACKTHORNE as a Chapbook, but no one was interested--it was too far out and too long. You do peak my interest as a self-published piece; possibly an E-Novel. I do not want to spend big bucks on a vanity project.

brudberg said...

This is amazing and so much action... I cannot believe that you have almost come to an end to this saga... and I have been here from the start.

Sorry for being so late commenting, but Sunday works better for me to read.