The Widow
- LECTURAS 223
- Votos 3
- Partes 9
Continúa44m
Última publicación vie, ene 29, 2016
#621 in Historical Fiction
The crack of a pistol rips through the night.
Smoke curls from the barrel.
Red blossoms across his chest.
My scream comes out a whisper.
"No!"
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I suddenly wake up from the nightmare. I rub the haziness out of my eyes and grab the bottle of whiskey sitting next to my bed. I take a big swig and stand up. My room is dusty and as rundown as you get. It's 1881, I am 16, a drunk and couldn't stay away from trouble if my life depended on it, which it does, and I am also wasting away in some rundown room a saloon owner lets me stay in. I grab my clothes and change quickly then put my pistols in my holsters. I open the door slowly and begin walking downstairs towards the chaos the wild west has to offer. The saloon was packed, it was filled with older men who have nothing better to do rather than drink and waitresses who had no self respect and would flirt just for a little extra money. I walk down the stairs and sit at one of the bars, although I am 16 and probably shouldn't have a drinking problem, I do. What can I say? I have daddy issues. Destiny is my worst enemy, and its guiding me down a dark path. For a girl who cant die, I get in a lot of bad situations.
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