[ WP ] Write the most violent story you can .

If you find yourself on the boarder to South and North Dakota, you should keep your eyes to yourself. You might see something that you wish you had n't, find yourself in a place you never thought existed, and hear things you ca n't forget. 
 
 Senators and Presidential candidates skip this area because stuck in time that has long since past, signs above door ways with sayings'No indians allowed' in the edges of the reservation. Some elderly still retrieve their water in the uranium rivers, unknowingly seeing what is happening to their bodies is linked to its muddy waters. America's own third world country within its boarders. 
 
 How do you buy up indian land?! Well first you force out the indigenous people, the ranchers wanted a nice piece of land located near an uncontaminated well located fifteen miles in South Dakota boarder. 
 
 So, they burned down Grandma's cornfield. We are her grandsons and worked the field the entire spring and summer and know the surrounding land. They made it look like a car had caught fire along the road towards Kenel, South Dakota. 
 
 My cousin Larry had seen the car in the junk yard in McLaughlin, South Dakota, two weeks ago when he was looking for truck parts.We knew who started the fire, so later that evening, we met them at the bar. Larry died in that fight, I held his head while he bled out though his neck from a broken whiskey bottle. 
 
 The clincher was my cousin Desiree, she was at a party in Mobridge, South Dakota. It was only a day since Larry had died, and she was in the hospital beaten and raped. The breathing tube down her neck and bruises all around her head, you could barely see the tattoo she gotten a year before. She was so nervous to tell her dad when she came back from college this past summer to tell my Uncle James, so she talked to me. 
 
 My dad had taught me some old ways we used to torture men from our culture. So, when I found my old friend Jacob from high school, my cousin Iyo and I beat him until we could only hear him wheezing. We put him outside his cousin's house and when they, Fred and Ralph, came out to get him off the security light pole, we got them and took them out to a grove in Little Eagle, South Dakota. We buried them up to their necks and cut their cheeks just so the blood would attract the ants, we told them we were n't ever coming back for them and it would be luck for them to escape. 
 
 They told us the information we wanted, and we left them there for someone else to find. When I seen the paper five years later, there was an article on two bodies found in the Groves of Little Eagle and ants had burrowed into the skeletons. Jacob died on that light pole outside their family's house as well. The last one came from their Uncle Vaughn, we asked him why they burned down our crop, raped and beaten my cousin, and killed another. His answer: 
 
 `` Your grandmother sits on about twenty five miles of land and farms only a fifth of that land. You indians, trying to preserve something that is already been lost. We should have wiped out your tribes and never given...'' He screamed. 
 
 He never finished that sentence, we set the horses loose we tied him to and his limbs went in several different directions. 
 
 I have n't been home in about ten years, but even if I did I do n't think people would trust me to be around anymore. My grandma still puts her corn fields up although, I get a few pounds mailed to me every year.
