Before I begin I want to say this was way harder than I thought it would be. I write every day in about every genera so to find one that wouldn't be what I write about every day was very hard. I write history, politics, love letters, songs, poems, fiction, about myself, about sports, letters to God, and basically life lessons in general. What else could there be. In fact I thought about it for a bit and thought maybe my Rabbit Hole is to write nothing at all, but I think that is the cowards way out. So I decided to go with fiction in honor of Lewis Carrol Iand I'm writing a genera that I don't really like very often so we will give it a try and if you are looking for a great read I warn you this is probably not it. Enjoy or don't once again I don't do it for you. The dust settles on the windy streets just in order to get kicked up once more by the hot, dry breeze. The wind itself could be soothing if not for the coarse sands scratching against skin as it whistles by. People gather close to door and window as the sun nears it's peak, bringing forth the brightest time of the day. Buzzards circle overhead waiting on their meal as their figure eights dance in the cloudless sky. The long hand of the clocktower creaks and moans out in pain as it lurches forward nearing it's time of reconing. The lone man stands in the sod road, sweat dripping from the tip of his nose but evaporating before hitting the ground. Thoughts of luck spring through his mind as the opponent doesn't seem to be showing meaning he may yet live to see another day. Alas this feeble hope shatters and blows away as a dust cloud in the distance nears revealing several large men riding their steeds of battle."Shall I run?" crosses the man's mind as his trembling hand shakes against his trusty Colt. "It will be hard to live with being called yellow but at least I will live."Horses come to a halt fifty yards ahead of him as the notorious gang dismounts laughing and already praising their leader for a win he has not yet earned. The large worn and seasoned gunslinger spits his chew in the direction of his opponent as he motions his men towards the saloon. They cackle their taunts as they make their way to the watering hole each trying to get the best view of the mayhem about to ensue."You ready boy?" yells the large outlaw brushing his tan duster to the side reavealing the six shooter underneath. His beaten black hat is pulled low yet it still can not hide the firey rage burning in his eyes. Clicking comes from the well used yet still silver spurs afixed to his boots that look as though they have never seen a pollish."W-we don't h-have to do this," yells back the poor dirt farmer, so poor he had to borrow the gun and owns no hat himself. He squints and says a silent prayer to the sound of the decrepid clock once again clacking towards the end. "I will take my family and go. You can have our land. The only livestock we own has gone dry with the drought so it isn't worth much but it isn't like it's costing you anything. I'm giving it to you.""You don't give me nuthin," yells the angry ruffian back at his feeble opponent, "I take what I want, hell your land is already mine your just too stupid to know it." He spits again then a cruel smirk crosses his face. "Tell you what since you're in the givin' mood how about you let me have that sow of a wife a yers and I'll let you leave with your son. Coarse the boy will grow up knowin' his pappy is yella' but ye'll live. Don't worry though me'n the boys'll take real good care of 'er, and it aint like yer boy can look up to ya now."The bandits in the saloon laugh as they make vulger gestures at the poor man still shaking in the street. Their leader smiles proud with his insults at his men before returning his stare at the broken shell in front of him."Ah hell, might as well just kill ya anyways, then I'll go see your philly regardless." he spits grabbing his own crotch.Time seems to freeze as the man instantly stops shaking. He feels a new awareness rush over himself brought on by the fear for his family. A spark has been lit deep within his soul that he had never realized was there before. In unison the clock ticks forward striking the bell as the colt is yanked from it's holster firing a single round. Lead spirals in the air in quick revolutions before finding it's target dead in the heart. The slow motion unpauses as the bandit removes his hand from his waistline raising it to his chest to find a warm gooey liquid spurting forth. Dropping to his knees his face goes cold before planting itself in the dirt. The crew stares slack jawed unbelieving what they have just seen. Turning towards the victor they hear the clock grind forward once more as the final five shots ring out with it, killing each one of them in a single blow.Townspeople come quickly out of their hiding places to see if their eyes have lied. Advancing, the farmer hands the pistol and belt back to the saloon owner as he approaches his prey. Flipping the lifeless body to it's back he pulls the gun belt from the mouthy bandit and secures it to his own waste. Dusting the black hat he places it on his own head and stands once more. Looking down at the man he had feared with all his life moments before he smiles at the thought of how easy it had been to beat him. Spitting on the corpe he says, "Guess you should have left me with nothing to fight for," before turning and walking home to those he love.
3 years ago