Within The Pages

Round 1.2 Aspen Oakley

A story written for "Gloves Up| A Multi-Genre Smackdown Contest", Round 1.2 (July 2022). Genre: Fantasy (Wild West Setting).

Story Word Count: 1000 

"And this was the Western Saloon of Colorado, the "Bull's Head". Burnt in 1879 due to a dispute over cattle ownership and water rights." The art gallery guide explained.

"Irelina, look at this!" Her notorious friend, Arabella, prodded her, gesturing towards a five-foot-long portrait of a lady dressed in ripped trousers, long boots, and a plunging neckline blouse. Her waist was studded by a Western hostler. Finally, a cowgirl hat crowned her head and a haughty rifle perched on her shoulder completed her appearance.

"Ah, this is Aspen Oakley, the only female victim who made it out alive from the fire. And fought till her last breath. "

"What really happened then?" Irelina questioned.

15 September, 1879. The Black Day in the history of Colorado. A war that took everything with it. Which annihilated the once-thriving town of Colorado.

It was a huge day for the Heshians, an opulent village about a mile away from the San Juans. After all, the sheriff became a father. A zephyr of cool, crisp air wafted past the golden aspens that painted the mountains in golden and yellow shades. The natural arena of shimmering shades was brilliantly blended into the picturesque landscape. The true colors of evening shenanigans slowly peeked out of the cloud-covered heavens.

The hustle and bustle of the Bull's Head was like music to ears. Fur trappers, cowboys, cowgirls, soldiers, lumberjacks, businessmen, lawmen, outlaws, miners, and gamblers all flocked inside the western saloon to rejoice. Thousands of rye, bourbon, and beer bottles embellished the bar.

All of a sudden, a huge explosion was heard. Sounds of shattering glasses, ear-piercing screams, howling cries, and gunshots reverberated across the once-lively place.

Like a broken, dejected girl dancing in the flames of her lover's betrayal, the once tall and proud Bull's Head gave its existence to the web of deceptions nestling in Colorado.

Burned bodies were strewn about like confetti. Slithering in anguish, their eyes searched for loved ones. The flames never ceased, steadily filling every pore and fissure in the building with their essence.

Only a few victims could be rescued by the town men who ringed the scene. For the time being, all they could think of was a wagon with horses picketing. The nearly dead victims were loaded and sent for treatment. Their family, besieged by the fear of loss, howled in the grandeur of the heavens. Among them was a petite woman, her newborn cocooned in her chest, crouched down on her knees, and grieving in anguish for her husband. Her sheriff was gone. She screamed, unable to accept the grim reality and the nasty game of destiny.

Before the people could help any further, the sound of horses hitting the ground, followed by gunshots, chilled the area. There came a pack of Noewaeks, their pistols and rifles shining triumphantly in their hands.

Noewaeks, the brash, lawless bastards of Colorado. The dispute between the Heshians and Noewaeks was nothing new to anyone. And the reason—River Colonaria.

Originating from the San Juans, bestowed with the essence of purity and benevolence, River Colonaria was believed to be a sacred river. And a fun fact: the river flowed through the Heshians.

A main reason for the Heshians' prosperity and wealth. Something that clearly pissed off the Noewaeks. The desire to have it all was a sufficient explanation.

"The affluent Heshians, hah! Fancy seeing you there... wish I could say that, but anyway. Ah, darling Gina, I'm hurt. You didn't invite me. " Decker, the chief of Noewaeks, mocked the wailing lady.

The deafening silence could be heard for miles, if not the entire Colorado. Everything was over for them. There were no heroic souls remaining to fight those bastards. For a split second, a vivid misty vision of devastated Heshians flickered through their thoughts, but it swiftly evaporated beneath the dread of their doom.

"Don't fret, my backstabber bastard Noewaek, I'll do that honor as well. With utmost bitterness and loathing, I personally invite you to Hell. " The strong female voice that emerged from the flaming door shocked the entire area with a swirling vortex of emotions. A figure leaned on her towering body as she carried him.

Their faces were embroidered with the elegance of kohl, like black smoke and charred marks. The crowd went wild with pride and courage. The once-crying lady sat stunned on the ground, unable to believe her eyes. Her wobbly feet propelled her forward while the two figures in front of her moved closer.

"My sheriff!" She exclaimed, examining the injured man, who smiled meekly beneath his burnt marks.

An agitated Decker laughed maniacally, "Aspen Oakley, you didn't die? Damn, the flesh of yours. "

Aspen snickered back, "Decker Crockett, you're still the backstabbing bastard? Damn, the nerve of yours. "

Ignoring the man raging with fists of fury, she faced her people. "Your Sheriff is back. No one can defeat the Heshians. No one! "

"Look around you, Little Aspen. Under which rock are you living? The Heshians are over. They've been defeated. Your little cowboys are no more. "

"Seems like your cowgirls didn't feed you well, Little Decker. Look around you, standing in the holy land of the Heshians, the bloodbath seeks vengeance. After all, blood calls for blood. "

Before Decker could even get the chance to process, he was tackled down to the ground. Sturdy boots pressed against his chest. A blonde hovered over him, pointing pistols at him. A slur mock of Death.

"Goodbye, brother." With that, the blonde emptied her rifles, the bullets nurturing the flesh of the boisterous chief.

Violence broke out with ferocity. Gunshots roared across the streets. Amidst the chaos, a bullet pierced Aspen's golden-tanned skin, tenderly kissing her abdomen without any flick of remorse. She took the bullet with pride. It was her achievement. One life for thousands. And miraculously, that life was hers. Soon, she faded in the treacherous seduction of Death.

But not before saying, "Long live the Heshians."

With that, the beginning of the end of the cowboy era began...