Doc Brody was late for the appointment, which had clearly been made for high noon. He had personally requested my promptness. “Don’t be late,” he’d said. How unprofessional. How inconsiderate. Was his time somehow more valuable?
What kind of self respecting outlaw shows up late for a gun fight anyway?
Six Gun City (by Carolinadoug on Flickr)
Written for the DP Weekly Writing Challenge: Fifty
For this week’s challenge, you must write a fifty-word story. Not five thousand, not five hundred, but precisely fifty words.
The brown and white pinto I am riding is getting tired, and so am I. We’ve been riding for hours with no destination. That is one of the disadvantages of being an outlaw. You often travel for hours with no apparent destination. Being an outlaw, you sometimes have to take things as they come.
A couple hours ago, back before I was an outlaw, life seemed so simple. I am trying to stay positive by treating my aimless, dusty travels as an exciting adventure. What better way to see the countryside than by horseback? What difference should it make if the horse is not technically mine?
The unfortunate thing is that I had to leave the woman I love behind. She wanted to go with me, to jump on the horse with me and ride off barefoot into the mediocre sunset. It was because I love her that I couldn’t let her come with me. She is not an outlaw. She doesn’t deserve to live her life on the run, riding in endless circles and wondering when the chase will finally find her.
She was able to forgive me for shooting her father and stealing his best horse. I fear, however, that leaving her behind will be unforgivable. Thus is life for an outlaw.
Fort Bravo Texas Hollywood, Film Studio – Tabernas, Andalucia, Spain (by howzey)