zerotule
04-22-2004, 07:05 AM
a silver dollar flipped tumbling again and again
sunlight spun vividly bright reflections blinded
momentarily just enough to give the outlaw an edge
his quick hand palmed the knoched butt of the navy colt
revolver and a thunder13 echoed chaos through the silent summers morning.
his opponet twisted turning gun dropping plunging into the dusty earth dead.
a vivid deadly warning to the other three calhoots their hands in mid motion in sequence
turn from the draw to surrendering gestures an quickly faked nervous smiles transfered their fear in mask. twas quite a task on their part fer three to one was a temptin sum but gambled not again the silver dollar shot..
the silver dollar looped as in slow motion an rambled on into the strangers quick hand.
heads? or tails? the stranger swished a loud whispering question? the three shook their
knarley heads side to side not saying nuttin. just refusing to continue, refusing to play into the navy colt 44s path. today..
you won the says: the stranger. he slip the silver into his vest pocket and lowered his navy colt slipping it into his worn soft holster all a smooth motion as fluid as nature itself.
ringing of thunders still in their heads was the noise abounding, otherwise silence was the tempo, as one of the three cackled the oath of whiskey rye whiskey an the two others joined into slowly stepping into the path of the silver dollar saloon.
the stanger joined in the step an with wink an grin says he: drinks on the house boys none of you gots a bounty on yer heads does ya? aint killed no indain woman er have any appolossa horse flesh do ya? fer yer friend done give up that there stolen loosa..
nope! nope! nope! times three... says: thee
indian lover, fur trapper, scout, bounty hunter, his was em all at one time er de other.
whal he`d trapped beavers fer hudson company years back and kilt skinned an traded
three thousand of em, one winter an got hiself an indian wife a an a small herd a appalossa
ponies to raise and praise his american dream; got shattered, when he come back to his place an found a dead wife an all the stock gone, cabin burned an cold mournin slow boiled vengence set into em an has been an still is on the trail a tears ever since. he kilt more than was done to em but it got in his blood an just couldnt quit.
he drank deep the blood of those he kilt an aquired an unusal taste a craving had devolped into an addiction. blood lust. ahhhh.. echoed into his dark mind when he thought to drink the red warm life, fer that was how he lived now an thats no brag just fact.
the three eyed him slowly back as they slip in through the swaying doors an gasp goosebumps formed an shivers swarmed as they follow their gaze to he...
who was kneelin now, his ivory fangs sunk down. into the dead mans neck and feasted..
I tried to imitate a partly knowleged narrator spelling was a
hardest of his three ?R`s" Readin was next, an neary no
arithmitic cept fer knowing silver dollars an 3 thousand beavers..
anyways twas fun hope ya enjoy.. jm
sunlight spun vividly bright reflections blinded
momentarily just enough to give the outlaw an edge
his quick hand palmed the knoched butt of the navy colt
revolver and a thunder13 echoed chaos through the silent summers morning.
his opponet twisted turning gun dropping plunging into the dusty earth dead.
a vivid deadly warning to the other three calhoots their hands in mid motion in sequence
turn from the draw to surrendering gestures an quickly faked nervous smiles transfered their fear in mask. twas quite a task on their part fer three to one was a temptin sum but gambled not again the silver dollar shot..
the silver dollar looped as in slow motion an rambled on into the strangers quick hand.
heads? or tails? the stranger swished a loud whispering question? the three shook their
knarley heads side to side not saying nuttin. just refusing to continue, refusing to play into the navy colt 44s path. today..
you won the says: the stranger. he slip the silver into his vest pocket and lowered his navy colt slipping it into his worn soft holster all a smooth motion as fluid as nature itself.
ringing of thunders still in their heads was the noise abounding, otherwise silence was the tempo, as one of the three cackled the oath of whiskey rye whiskey an the two others joined into slowly stepping into the path of the silver dollar saloon.
the stanger joined in the step an with wink an grin says he: drinks on the house boys none of you gots a bounty on yer heads does ya? aint killed no indain woman er have any appolossa horse flesh do ya? fer yer friend done give up that there stolen loosa..
nope! nope! nope! times three... says: thee
indian lover, fur trapper, scout, bounty hunter, his was em all at one time er de other.
whal he`d trapped beavers fer hudson company years back and kilt skinned an traded
three thousand of em, one winter an got hiself an indian wife a an a small herd a appalossa
ponies to raise and praise his american dream; got shattered, when he come back to his place an found a dead wife an all the stock gone, cabin burned an cold mournin slow boiled vengence set into em an has been an still is on the trail a tears ever since. he kilt more than was done to em but it got in his blood an just couldnt quit.
he drank deep the blood of those he kilt an aquired an unusal taste a craving had devolped into an addiction. blood lust. ahhhh.. echoed into his dark mind when he thought to drink the red warm life, fer that was how he lived now an thats no brag just fact.
the three eyed him slowly back as they slip in through the swaying doors an gasp goosebumps formed an shivers swarmed as they follow their gaze to he...
who was kneelin now, his ivory fangs sunk down. into the dead mans neck and feasted..
I tried to imitate a partly knowleged narrator spelling was a
hardest of his three ?R`s" Readin was next, an neary no
arithmitic cept fer knowing silver dollars an 3 thousand beavers..
anyways twas fun hope ya enjoy.. jm