Attempts

There's No I in Team

Two men on horseback are heading back to their hometown. One of them had a brown season hat and an old leather coat with the sheriff's badge. The man riding behind him wore a recently bought brown coat with a deputy's badge on it too. The sheriff was getting bored of hearing only the horse's steps and finally spoke. "Hey George, how's your mother doing? I haven't seen her in a while." The sheriff asked. The deputy frowned."She hasn't been doin' well, doctors told me she'd die soon." He answered with a disturbed voice. "Hell! You're getting unlucky. First your sister, then your mother!?" The sheriff shouted. "Yahp, bad luck." He sighs, glancing at a jar with a cloth covering the outside of it, sealing it's contents attached by his horse's saddle. "Anyway, let's talk about something else, like that jar you got." The sheriff said. "Sorry Tim, I don't wanna talk right now." George said, hoping his friend would stay quiet now. "Oh sorry, sorry. Shuttin' up." The sheriff shivered, fearing he just made his deputy upset.

They entered the small town of Tobal. As usual, half the townsfolk spent their time at the bar. The coffin maker is seen working in his shop. The duo entered the town, then the sheriff noticed the coffin maker. "Asshole, he's already building a coffin for your mother. I can tell." He said calmly, trying to get a rise of the quiet companion. "I told him to do so, there's already no hope anyway." George said. The sheriff was a bit surprised. "Are you sure she won't survive?" He said , disturbed. "I'm heading home to meet her now. See ya Tim." George then headed quickly to the stables to unmount his horse. Sheriff Tim was about to follow, then he felt someone tugging his reins. The sheriff turned to see the coffin maker. "I must speak to you, you need to know something." The coffin maker said with a concerned look, then he let go of his reins. Tim unmounted his horse as well to meet the coffin maker on even ground. "What is it? This best be important." The sheriff walked to the man as he said. "Your deputy's sister, has she had an eye sickness before she died?" The coffin maker asked. "Eye sickness? No. Food poisoning isn't that brutal." He answered, but his anger rose. How could this old man even ask this while he is building a coffin for the sister's mother? "Her eye, there's no eye in them sockets. It's been carved out clean." The coffin maker said, hoping the sheriff can understand why he asked. The sheriff is suddenly interested. "No eye you say?" The sheriff said, thinking about the peculiar detail. "Sheriff, you better pay attention to your deputy." The coffin maker then left, as he saw George approaching from behind Tim. "Tim...my mother, she's dead." George yelled. The Sheriff didn't quite bother. "Damn, a shame." He sighed, annoyed. "Have you no worry for my family?" George says. "I don't see a damn tear on your eye, get a drink." Tim scoffed. "Well, I'm about to." He chuckled a bit. The Sheriff shrugged, then he noticed that he brought the strange jar with him. "I'll pay for you. It's the least I can do, you fool." The Sheriff sighed.

Both officials entered the bar, telling of jokes and curses being told around the place. Tim placed his money in front of the bartender. "Two whiskeys, give us the strong ones." He told. The bartender nodded as he got to work. "George, did you know that your sister had her eye stolen?" He said. George didn't seem to react as he's lost in thought, his expression is bland and his attention was at two men arguing. Tim is just getting more irritated by the moment.He didn't care that his mother was dead, but this didn't excuse the fact that George has been acting down and strange lately. "Bring me my drinks when you see me." The sheriff then left him. George just stood there, nothing seemed to bother him.

Sheriff passed through the voices of rowdy men and gossiping gals, then he finds the man he felt the need to speak with. He then puts on his cheery smile once he sees a short man with a bowler hat, observing the females at a respectable distance. "Mayor, how's it  been?" He says loudly to interrupt the mayor's focus. "Tim, you're back! I was already thinking of looking for the next sheriff. Did you catch Wicked Sacks?" The mayor asked, annoyed that Tim ended his women respecting session. "Yeah, we got him. Don't worry about that now." Tim answered. "Say, is there anything about this town with...missing eyes?" He asked, for he does want to find closure for George. The mayor thought. "I do know one case, a couple from another town were killed a few days ago. When we checked the body, there was no eye on them." The mayor told. "You mean like, there's one eye out of each of them? Or both their eyes out?" Tim asked, just to make sure. "One eye out, we assume Wicked Sacks was the one who killed them." The mayor told. "Then what about Iris? Who took her eye while she's dead?" Tim's voice suddenly raised. The mayor pinched his chin and thought. "George was the only one near her, Tim. I don't know." He finally said. The sheriff immediately looked for George as the mayor told his answer.

George left the bar, leaving both drinks there. He felt left out, yet he knows he felt wrong. He was guilty. He then took up his covered jar, smiling. He felt the presence of those who are supposed to love him. "George!" A voice called. George turned and sees a fellow young man. "Where's the Sheriff?" The stranger asked. "In the bar, why?" George hid his jar in his coat. "I just need to talk to him." This man gives Georgeba stern look. "Why?" George is finally familiar with him, he knows who this is. "The coffin maker, he told me that there's an eye missing on your mother. We have to warn him that the culprit isn't the Wicked Sacks. He's still in town." He explained. George only kept his stare at the stranger's souless eyes. He didn't give him a chance to realize that a knife already holed his heart. "So what?" George kicks down the man's body and rummaged his body, finding a gun already hidden tucked on his underwear. He took up the gun and turned behind him as he heard familiar steps of the strong leather boots. "What's gotten into you?" He has his gun out, facing the man he once knew as his deputy. George stayed silent, taking out his jar and places it on the ground beside him. It was no longer covered, it was filled with water with two floating eyeballs of different color. "Yoh hate me, don't you Tim?" George said, with a disturbing frown. "You're crazy, I don't care what you're about to say. You're just crazy." He then took aim at  George's head. It didn't take long. A shot was heard from inside of the bar.

A group of men walked out of the bar along with the Mayor. "Good lord!" He exclaimed, as he recognizes one of the bodies on the ground. He then picks up a gun that was near the body, it was unloaded. The mayor then picks up the hat beside the corpse. The mayor, with a loud annoyed voice says:

"Hell no....There's no eye on Tim!"

Notes: I thought of making this story a bit longer than this, then I realized It would be foolish of me for I was busy for the past few days.

I also thought the sentence can be used in too many kinds of stories. So I reimagined it as something completely different, hence this short tale.