Writing.
Here's something I like well enough to show ya'll, it's part of this week's prompt on ASOCk. Which I found out about via this post: http://amanda-sheree.livejournal.com/18650.html
So here's my writing (270 words)
My friend paused to set her saddle down. And I stopped in my tracks.
The town was empty-no people, no horses, no dogs, no rattlers buzzing under the boardwalk. Nothing. A shutter flapped in the oven-like breeze and I moved the loop off the hammer of my gun.
“I recognize this place,” I said.
“Oh yes?”
“Mmm-hmm. It’s been a long time . . .”
I snorted and held back the memories, most of them bad.
I’d been mostly ignored while Ma sold herself to feed me. I’d kissed my first girl here, danced my first dance, ridden my first horse and killed my first man. For beating Ma to death don’t you see. She wouldn’t fool around with men who were married. The Sheriff was.
I started asking questions. I got beat up, knifed, and shot for good measure.
I came back with an old Colt Dragoon.
Only back then the town had been called Peace.
Maybe they thought that if they changed the name something good might happen there. Like I said, it had been a long time and the buildings were different. I guess something happened to the originals. Hopefully Apaches. Or better yet, Unnaturals.
“Peace. It was called Peace.”
“Well, I suppose we’d better see if there’s anyone useful in this . . . Metropolis.”
“Be the first time the inhabitants did anyone some good.”
Lonnie Devereux glanced at the Church, which sat across the street from the Cantina.
“It looks like they had some activity.”
She jerked a thumb at the fresh graves.
“Huh,” I said. “There’s justice in the world after all.”
So here's my writing (270 words)
My friend paused to set her saddle down. And I stopped in my tracks.
The town was empty-no people, no horses, no dogs, no rattlers buzzing under the boardwalk. Nothing. A shutter flapped in the oven-like breeze and I moved the loop off the hammer of my gun.
“I recognize this place,” I said.
“Oh yes?”
“Mmm-hmm. It’s been a long time . . .”
I snorted and held back the memories, most of them bad.
I’d been mostly ignored while Ma sold herself to feed me. I’d kissed my first girl here, danced my first dance, ridden my first horse and killed my first man. For beating Ma to death don’t you see. She wouldn’t fool around with men who were married. The Sheriff was.
I started asking questions. I got beat up, knifed, and shot for good measure.
I came back with an old Colt Dragoon.
Only back then the town had been called Peace.
Maybe they thought that if they changed the name something good might happen there. Like I said, it had been a long time and the buildings were different. I guess something happened to the originals. Hopefully Apaches. Or better yet, Unnaturals.
“Peace. It was called Peace.”
“Well, I suppose we’d better see if there’s anyone useful in this . . . Metropolis.”
“Be the first time the inhabitants did anyone some good.”
Lonnie Devereux glanced at the Church, which sat across the street from the Cantina.
“It looks like they had some activity.”
She jerked a thumb at the fresh graves.
“Huh,” I said. “There’s justice in the world after all.”