News From Poughkeepsie – Day 117
Western…as religion
Bobby Joe believed in The Gun. He had met other Marshals, men and women who appeared pious, but who threw aside the Lessons of The Gun as it suited them. To them, wielding the gun was about power. To Bobby Joe, however, it was about salvation. Out here in the Wild, it had to be.
Bobby Joe said a prayer for every bullet as he loaded his weapon. He thought about about the two marauder gangs outside his door, ready for war. He though about the town they were about to tear apart as scratched at each other. And he thought about the Lessons of The Gun.
“This about salvation,” he said, walking into the streets. “This is about salvation…”
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Jason (Anthraxus) | Sep 30, 2009 | Reply
Western… as Cthulhu Horror
William “Dustdevil” O’Bryan crouched down behind the cluster of boulders and checked his revolvers for the second time. He jumped slightly as Ayání, his Navajo companion, slipped over the top of the boulders like a bulky shadow. “Jaysus, Aya, yeh scared the puckey out of me!” he whispered. “Apologies, akis,” Ayání said with a small smile, “But what I have seen has scared me more.”
Dustdevil risked a quick glance over the boulder that Ayání had just came over and saw the group of black robed figures circled around the bonfire in the distance. As he ducked back down Ayání said, “They are not Satan worshippers. They chant in some tongue I have never heard. The sound of it is slippery and evil. What they are doing, I do not know, but it should be stopped.” William smiled a wolfish grin and spun one of his guns on his finger. “Yeh ready for it then?” he asked. Ayání nodded sharply as he picked up his rifle from where he had left it while scouting out the odd group they had spotted.
William whispered, “On three then. One… Two…” From across the short gap between their rocky shelter and the chanting group, a scream echoed out into the night and the chanting suddenly stopped. A deep rumbling thundered back, in seeming response. William’s throat seemed to close up on the third number as he saw a huge figure, wavering as if seen through heat ripples appear beyond the group.
He ducked back behind the rocks and looked at Ayání. “If yeh have any tricks left in tha’ medicine bag of yern, now’s the time fer ‘em I think.” Stony-faced, Ayání nodded and began to rummage in the decorated leather bag tied to his leg…
Scott Roche | Sep 30, 2009 | Reply
My take on this one or at least the beginning of it. http://www.scottroche.com/blog/2009/09/the-lessons-of-the-gun/