Middle, Beginning, End

By Peter Newman

The door opened slowly, cutting away the darkness with a bright spear of light. In horrified silence everyone look towards the intruder standing in the doorway. A rush of fresh air came in bringing with it a cloud of dust that tumbled across the floor.

The dark figure stepped in making the warm stale air rigid and cold. A second step: the crack of boots on the aged wood floor echoed though the still room.

No man of any creed would rise against what stood near the exit. The way out. Eyes of red glow an unholy light. Piercing the darkened room. Reaching deep into the lungs of every man, drawing out the air. No breath, no stir could break the stillness.

The figure reached down and took hold of a pistol at its belt. Slowly, methodically it drew.

-

The arid and dead flat lands were only visible by a ghostly radiance, sitting still under a high moon. A middle-aged man worn and tired from a harsh life: sat atop a perch at the crest of the mountain ridge. Surveying the waste below. Bitter cold winds beet down un-forgivingly upon the lonely man, relentlessly trying to sway his charge. Un-compromised he sat, watching, waiting, and cradling his rifle loaded and ready.

On the distant horizon a figure walked. Slowly closer: with each step. The moon light, cresting the silhouette. Time passed, the sun broke the cold night. The figure drew closer. Atop his perch the man raised his rifle and steadied.

A shot broke the morning. The figure fell.

Tied and drug behind a horse. The body was thrown into the street, desecrated and slighted.

Buried in a shallow grave and forgotten.

-

Another step further into the room and a face became visible. Cold and gray, covered in dirt. Dried blood stained the side of the face as a smile cracked across the dry broken lips. A second step forward.

A quick jerk: and a shot. Attempt at salvation. On target: impacting in the chest. A hole: half an inch wide right over the heart. No blood spilled.

Un-affected: one step. A gun leveled. The trigger pulled: silence broken. A man fell dead. Chaos erupted with fire and lead from every direction. One by one: each one fell choking on his blood. It continued through dusk. Man, woman, child: each alike. All downed with no remorse.

The figure walked out of the small town towards the night. The glow of the red moon: shown no light upon the arid landscape.