Don't Fear (the Reaper)
This one was a bit more stylistic than originally envisoned. Not to mention, I didn't exactly follow the "phobia" theme as intended. Despite that, I did hope for at least one vote over at M7land. Posting out of spite because I didn't, and because even if it's awful, it's not the worst thing I've even written.
Don't Fear (the Reaper)
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[One.]
Steele's book brings every bounty hunter in the territory. But he's cautious and six other guns back him. Boot hill fills.
Then, ambush. A blow to the head.
(Merinthophobia) Dazed, bleeding. Wrists tied, ankles. Panicked struggles. Course rope tearing the thin skin at his wrists. A wolf in the trap, deprived of reason. Dizzy, sweating, gasping. Then darkness.
An abandoned cabin. An old cellar. A padlocked door.
(Cleisiophobia) Unafraid of the pressing darkness and close-pressed walls. But trapped, confined, helpless. The wolf ready to chew through his leg and escape the trap. Screaming, begging, pleading, then silence. Never turning away from the locked door. Unable to think, hear, breathe through crushing fear.
The cavalry arrive.
(Atychiphobia) Ezra picks the lock. Chris forces the door. Both swear. Claw marks on the walls, the floor, but too late. Empty space. Despair.
Blindfolded. Tied to his horse. Days of dusty heat. Stray blows, bruises. Then money changes hands and he is left alone with his thoughts. Remembering the men he's delivered to their fate, uncaring of the outcome. Cringing at the sounds of a lynch mob barely held at bay.
(Triskaidekaphobia, Thantophobia) When the time comes, he is hungry, dirty, bruised, with still-bleeding fingers and broken nails. Harsh voices. Rough hands pushing and pulling. Thirteen stairs to the top. Hood forced over his head. The sound of rasping breath. Thirteen coils. Coarse rope pressed hard behind his left ear. Blood pounding, like distant hoofbeats. The creak of wood and cry of iron hinges.
It is nine days home with a wrapped body and a snorting, jibbing black gelding.
(Phasmophobia) Six men are never the same. In a cold wind. On a dark night. In an empty room with a creaking floor. Unknown shadows send an uncontrollable shiver down six spines, as they turn away from the phantom at their back.
[Two.]
Steele's book brings a dozen young guns, hoping to make their name on his reputation. But he's fast and five other guns back him. Boot hill fills.
Then, ambush.