Winter 1992 • Vol. XIV No. 1 Fiction |

Ghost Dancing

Jimmy One Rock gave the black '62 Impala one last goose and listened to the rhythm of the rattle of the loose fan belt. He flicked off the lights and stepped out. Leaving the door open behind him, he walked to the front of the car, lifted the hood, and shut off the engine. Hank Williams was cut off mid-sentence. Jimmy One Rock felt suddenly alone in the dark and silence. The dark thicket of brush and trees looked an eternity away, across the black open field. He could hear, but not see, the single pishkw, night hawk, swoop as it circled the field in the last pale memory of light in the dark sky. If the dome light in the Impala hadn't been gone, he'd have left it on. But it was gone. One of the last times he was out drinking with his brothers Roy and Chuckie, Chuckie had waked up alone in the Impala and thought that the green blinker light on the dash was one of those mantios that Grandma One Rock used to warn them about, and Chuckie tried to climb out the roof, through the d

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