Echoes of Turtles
Story Highlight Where Small Moments Rise Into Immortality (Maryellen Brady)
Welcome! Wipe the dust off your boots and the grime from your forehead. Wash your whistle with some spit-shine over there at the bar if you need to. We have no water (Rango style).
Let the sun bake the sand instead of your skin. Keep open eyes and wide ears as we get into today’s highlight.
Today we have a nice genre-blender for you. A Western unlike any other, but one that still embodies the genre itself. “The Outsider;Dangerous Lines,” is apart of a serial that
is currently putting out. This piece she sent us is just a small peak into the overarching story but it still holds up very well on its own as a way to wrap you up into the narrative.And needless to say, but it truly is one of my favorite works from Maryellen. It combines her amazing voice on the fantastical and combines it with the rough and gritty elements of the proverbial western.
So without further ado, let’s go into the rough valley’s and drawn lines that Maryellen’s world has created, and let it sift through your heart like panning for gold.
Sub to Maryellen!
The Valley Ridge Chronicle occupied a narrow storefront between the saloon and a dry goods store. Faded gold lettering peeled across the window & announced the newspaper's founding date of 1872. Inside, the smell of ink and paper mingled with the ever-present dust that seemed to coat everything in town.
Flint ducked to enter, his height making the doorway more like a narrow passage. Sheriff Morris Beckett sat at a small desk littered with various papers. His silver hair shining in the morning light that streamed through the front window. Beside him, Abigail Winters stood with a pencil tucked behind her ear, her auburn hair pulled back in a practical bun.
"Afternoon," Flint said to them as he tipped his hat.
Beckett looked up. A mix of relief and concern crossed his weathered face. "Got the Delaney brothers, I hear."
"Alive and locked up," Flint confirmed. He pulled the land grant from his vest pocket. "Found this with them. Might be more interesting than the bank money."
Abigail leaned forward, her keen journalist's eyes scanned the document. "Territorial land grant," she murmured. "Signed by Governor Wilcox himself. Authorizing mineral exploration west of Valley Ridge."
"Centaur lands," Flint countered.
Sheriff Beckett's hand trembled as he reached for the document. His health was failing, but his mind remained sharp. "Clayton's been pushing for expansion. This looks like official permission to do just that."
Abigail's pencil tapped against her notepad. "Not quite. The grant's language is specific. It requires tribal consent ~ which means centaur consent in this territory."
Flint's ears ~ more horse-like than human ~ flickered. A tell he'd never quite managed to control. "Stormrunner won't give consent. Not without a fight."
"Which is exactly what Clayton wants," Beckett said. He looked up at Flint, eyes sharp despite his frail body. "You're the only one who can bridge this gap. You know both worlds."
"Some worlds can't be bridged," Flint replied.
Abigail stepped closer, her voice low. "Jenkins was killed over this document. Those Delaney brothers weren't just common bank robbers. They were hired to create trouble."
Flint pulled out the small tin box he'd taken from Jenkins' shack. Inside, alongside the gold nugget, was a hand-drawn map with several locations marked in a careful, precise hand.
"Jenkins was a prospector," Flint said. "But he was mapping something more than gold deposits."
Sheriff Beckett's hand came to rest on the map. "Water sources," he said softly. "In this territory, water is everything."
A shadow fell across the window. Flint's hand instinctively moved to his side, but it was only Deputy Samuel Finch.
"Marshal," Finch said, "Got a telegram just came in. Might want to see this."
The telegram was from the territorial capital. Short. Cryptic.
INCREASED CENTAUR MOVEMENT REPORTED NEAR VALLEY RIDGE STOP POTENTIAL CONFLICT IMMINENT STOP RECOMMEND IMMEDIATE ACTION STOP
Abigail read it over Flint's shoulder. "Stormrunner's making a move."
"Or someone wants it to look like he is," Flint said.
Outside, the town was changing. Miners were gathering in small groups, talking in hushed tones. A wagon loaded with rifles rolled past the newspaper office window.
"Something's coming," Sheriff Beckett said, his voice barely above a whisper. "And you're the only one who can stop it, Flint."
The centaur marshal said nothing. But the muscles along his equine flank were tight, ready for whatever was coming next.
The line between peace and war in Valley Ridge was about to be tested.
The Line That Stopped Time
“The line between peace and war in Valley Ridge was about to be tested.”
Such an impactful ending to this piece. Something that feels like we are being directly spoken too. A thought that spun between the characters like a web, and especially Flint. It sets the tone for what is to come and how this story will unfold. A noticeable outsider who has a heart of gold for the people that have rejected him, this is the event that changes it all.
Echoes from the Author
What inspired this story?
(was it a feeling, a phrase, a dream?)
My dad, he loved watching westerns when I was a kid. This is a small tribute because I miss him.
What’s one strange or lovely habit you have when writing?
(Tea rituals? Chaotic playlists? Writing by candlelight?)
Roasted oolong tea ritual 💗
If your story whispered a secret to the reader, what would it be?
(Something hidden between the lines.)
You do not need to fit in, or belong, to do the right thing.
What type of turtle would carry this story on its back—and where would it take it?
(Desert wanderer? Librarian turtle? Chaos goblin with a monocle?)
My 1st pet was a turtle, Oscar. Oscar would carry this story to my dad in heaven, so he could read it & know it was just for him.
E.M.R’s Moment of Reflection
“Reads like a John Wayne Western if you put Centaurs as the center piece.”
I genuinely love this story. I’ve been there for every single part and it simply gets better and better. Every piece is short, sweet, and very well put together. It literally drags you along for the ride with the richness of character, the charm of the setting, and a perfect twine of tension that’s getting pulled further and further apart.
The dialogue is truly a shining piece to this entire story. You can hear it, visualize it, and it flows between each character seamlessly. And the descriptions? I am literally watching it unfold like a movie, with every part pulling in to create a damn fine piece of world-building and downright entertainment.
The Fading Echoes
As always, thank you for coming into an evergreen saloon of imagination. Let’s give a very warm thank you to
for allowing us to feature the best aspects of her writing. On top of giving us some amazingly beautiful insight into her inspirations. Which I deeply connect too. My Grandfather put me onto Westerns and ALL of what I enjoy to this day. This is the type of story I would have told him about, especially if I had read this ten years ago. Keep inspiring as always.“The Outsider,” is such a very fun read, and a read that goes even deeper than that. Something completely unique and full of what a STORY is.
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