- read the title backwards for a hint as to what the story is about -
- rated R for language violence and gore. -
The Dance of Death
Step 1: Meeting Fleeing
I
The cloaked man stepped through the threshold of a dank saloon and into the piercing mid day sunlight. It was hot out, aye, hot as it ever was, but it didn’t affect him in the least. There was a young boy to the left of the door, securing his horse to a pole, but the man never looked at him. He only stared on straight at apparently nothing, but presumably everything.
II
The boy saw him though, and hidden well beneath his largely brimmed hat, he had very keen eyes set on this grim figure. He had heard revolting, yet enticing tales of this man’s vigilante exploits, and couldn’t wait to tell his school-chums about his sighting. How he watched as that terrible wicked man sauntered off into the grainy orange horizon, with his starlight cloak dragging in his wake.
Then he heard a dragging click, and felt cold metal against his right temple...
“ I want that there horse o’ yers, shrimp! Untie it!” A grossly strained, raspy voice came from behind the boy, and he felt hot breath envelop his neck.
For a moment (or so it seemed to him) the boy only froze and looked on ahead to where the cloaked figure still stood, oblivious to anything going on, staring blankly into the distance, at who knows what. He was especially glad the hat covered his eyes now, because they were shut tight, and lined with beads of moisture. The boy thought quickly about his mother and father, then he took a deep relaxed breath and opened his eyes again. As he regained focus, the ground remained stable underneath him. He concentrated hard, and could feel every reflex and muscle in his body at full attention, ready to snap.
III
The cloaked man could hardly believe it. Before this pitiful bandit could even push the kid, or yell something like, “Untie that horse, or your eyes and fucking nuts will be its next meal, maggot,” The kid had spun around and yanked the gun from his hands. The next second, the kid had slid on his back, through the dumb bastard’s legs, and come up behind him, with the gun at his head.
He loved this sort of thing. In fact he lived for this shit, so he pulled down his hood and started towards the boy who now had his back to him, and a gun almost as big as his arm pointed directly at some poor idiot’s skull.
IV
“If ya can’t kill him, boy,” He said. “I’ll gladly save ya the trouble and trauma that’s guaranteed in a situation such as this.”
The boy heard the cloaked man’s flowing, and harmonic voice from behind him and shook his head, ever slightly, in each direction. The smelly thug now whimpered and sobbed incoherently in front of him. The boy’s face was blank. Numb. Then, only a second’s hesitation after the cloaked man’s words, the boy pulled the trigger. The report sent the bandit’s cranial contents in a gory jet spray, splashing the boy’s horse’s left flank in blood and brain.
V
The bandit’s body slumped to the ground, knees hitting first, followed by the rest of his body. His dead weight pushed dust into the air in a swirling cloud. The blood flowed from his head, splicing like river canals, delaying slightly on pebbles before flowing on through the street. He thought nothing. He was dead.
VI
The boy whipped around and leveled the gun at the cloaked man who was approaching him. He only needed to say one word to make the man stop.
“Stop.”
The man remained where he was. “How do you feel?” He asked.
The boy closed his eyes tight for a second bracing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger. “What kind of question is that? You saw what I just did.” The boy lowered the large revolver and emptied the barrel into his hand without taking his gaze from the man in front of him.
“What’s your name, son?” The man walked closer now and the boy did not object.
“My name is Phillip.” He answered shortly.
“Well, Phillip, what are you running from?” The tone of the man’s voice was too much for Phillip to ignore. Even if this strange man in the starlight cloak was a ravenous murderer at heart, the sincerity and absolute care that came from his voice was nothing short of father-like.
“How did you...?” Phillip began, but the cloaked man’s voice once again filled his ears.
“ I noticed the haste in which you were securing your horse to that pole. Any boy who can move as fast as you did with that thug would certainly be able to quickly and efficiently secure their harness, no?”
The boy said nothing. “ Aye, but you were fumbling with it.”
“ But, you weren’t even looking at me! How did you?” Phillip was wide-eyed, and attentive now, if he hadn’t been before. He shuffled his boots where he stood and dust danced in circles around his feet.
“You’d be very naive to assume I have to look to see, dear Phillip. I knew you were eyeing me from under your hat. You’re sharp, boy. But mark my word, I am a fucking razor compared to you.” These last words came off with a slightly threatening ring, and this was when Phillip decided he really liked this man, raving lunatic, or not. “Now, what were you running from?”
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