Just.. why not
School writing assignment.. I can only hope that what was said about it was positive. Maybe it'll give you a moment of amusement before wandering on to the next thing.
I remember thinking something when I left town. Something profound, a reason for why I was where I was. Something that took the past, and all that that entailed, and made it all seem so clear. That all of this isn’t so hopeless, and even the things I’ve done.. the things I’ve seen, can be forgiven. It made me believe that maybe I still had a reason for what I do.. who I am.
I’ll be damned if I can remember what it was, though.
That seems to be the way it goes.. anytime I get the feeling that I have a way out of here, that there’s some way to escape what I’ve fallen into, what I’ve become, it goes out the window faster than you can blink. Not that there are many windows these days. Spend most of my time looking for somewhere to feel safe, to feel home. I don’t even bother with what I used to. Still being chased for things I haven’t done in.. well, I don’t really know anymore. I wanted out of it all. I got it. Only, they never tell you; it doesn’t matter if you’ve been playing nice for a day or a decade. Not to you, anyway. To everyone you might have stolen from, fought, killed. To them, it matters. But to yourself, or your soul?
Funny, I kept thinking. I remembered those who cared about me all those years ago. Thomas. Henry. Charlotte. I’m sure there were others, but their names are lost to me now. All of it is, really. I used to count the days it was since I’d left, since I’d been trying to keep one step ahead and find my peace at the same time. Then one day I stopped. I made a mark in my head how long it had been, and that was the best guess I had. I don’t remember how long ago that was, or even what it was. Funny.
None of it matters, I suppose. Here I am walking from town to town, trying to keep away from everyone. Not even a horse these days. Some dashing bandit I make. Hell, some bandit at all. Sometimes trying to drink away what little memories remain of it all, sometimes just passing through. Even going back to thieving the ‘honest’ way when I need to. Try and look for a table with someone drunk enough that they won’t be any shape to fight if they pick up on that you’ll have to pull a few tricks from up your sleeve now and then. Getting harder these days, though. People are a mite touchier about losing their weeks wage to a stranger over a game of cards than they used to be.
Maybe that’s why I didn’t care so much when I saw him. I remembered running into him a few states back. A marshall. A smart one, too. He brought along enough men to tackle any bar brawl from here to the border two-to-one. It would have been overkill for the greatest outlaw that ever lived, let alone me. On a good day I’d be lucky to walk away from five men. Not this. I wasn’t walking away from this even if I wanted to. I could feel my hand slowly sliding down to my belt, and as everyone else did the same. I only had one bullet on me. It had been that way for ages now. Began to figure that if anyone else was going to die, it was to be me.
It was all over in an instant. I was on the ground and could barely lift my arm. I was lying in something warm and wet, and could only guess at to what it might be. And here they came, to stand over me, to stand over their prize.
They say your life flashes before you eyes when you die. Maybe that’s true for some people, but not me. Not today. I had sensations, feelings. For longer than I could even remember, I began to feel everything that had gone unnoticed for so long. The breeze blowing across my face, the gentle beams of sunlight touching down and warming, the birds flying overhead and singing their song, as if so oblivious to what was taking place below. Even the pain.. I could finally feel that again.
What happened next had to have surprised them. All of them. About the time they took the gun from my hand, I started smiling. And when they opened it to see it was empty, I laughed. Not a healthy laugh, mind you. The sort that grates on your soul and makes you wish mercy on the poor bastard. That if they weren’t already dying, you’d wish they were. You wouldn’t begin to know if it was for you or them that you were wishing. But here I was, going to move on with my life yet again. I’d been living lost for so long, drifting. But I’d always made that choice. And here I was, making the choice again. I chose freedom once, and lost it somewhere along the way. I found it again. Funny.
I remember thinking something when I left town. Something profound, a reason for why I was where I was. Something that took the past, and all that that entailed, and made it all seem so clear. That all of this isn’t so hopeless, and even the things I’ve done.. the things I’ve seen, can be forgiven. It made me believe that maybe I still had a reason for what I do.. who I am.
I’ll be damned if I can remember what it was, though.
That seems to be the way it goes.. anytime I get the feeling that I have a way out of here, that there’s some way to escape what I’ve fallen into, what I’ve become, it goes out the window faster than you can blink. Not that there are many windows these days. Spend most of my time looking for somewhere to feel safe, to feel home. I don’t even bother with what I used to. Still being chased for things I haven’t done in.. well, I don’t really know anymore. I wanted out of it all. I got it. Only, they never tell you; it doesn’t matter if you’ve been playing nice for a day or a decade. Not to you, anyway. To everyone you might have stolen from, fought, killed. To them, it matters. But to yourself, or your soul?
Funny, I kept thinking. I remembered those who cared about me all those years ago. Thomas. Henry. Charlotte. I’m sure there were others, but their names are lost to me now. All of it is, really. I used to count the days it was since I’d left, since I’d been trying to keep one step ahead and find my peace at the same time. Then one day I stopped. I made a mark in my head how long it had been, and that was the best guess I had. I don’t remember how long ago that was, or even what it was. Funny.
None of it matters, I suppose. Here I am walking from town to town, trying to keep away from everyone. Not even a horse these days. Some dashing bandit I make. Hell, some bandit at all. Sometimes trying to drink away what little memories remain of it all, sometimes just passing through. Even going back to thieving the ‘honest’ way when I need to. Try and look for a table with someone drunk enough that they won’t be any shape to fight if they pick up on that you’ll have to pull a few tricks from up your sleeve now and then. Getting harder these days, though. People are a mite touchier about losing their weeks wage to a stranger over a game of cards than they used to be.
Maybe that’s why I didn’t care so much when I saw him. I remembered running into him a few states back. A marshall. A smart one, too. He brought along enough men to tackle any bar brawl from here to the border two-to-one. It would have been overkill for the greatest outlaw that ever lived, let alone me. On a good day I’d be lucky to walk away from five men. Not this. I wasn’t walking away from this even if I wanted to. I could feel my hand slowly sliding down to my belt, and as everyone else did the same. I only had one bullet on me. It had been that way for ages now. Began to figure that if anyone else was going to die, it was to be me.
It was all over in an instant. I was on the ground and could barely lift my arm. I was lying in something warm and wet, and could only guess at to what it might be. And here they came, to stand over me, to stand over their prize.
They say your life flashes before you eyes when you die. Maybe that’s true for some people, but not me. Not today. I had sensations, feelings. For longer than I could even remember, I began to feel everything that had gone unnoticed for so long. The breeze blowing across my face, the gentle beams of sunlight touching down and warming, the birds flying overhead and singing their song, as if so oblivious to what was taking place below. Even the pain.. I could finally feel that again.
What happened next had to have surprised them. All of them. About the time they took the gun from my hand, I started smiling. And when they opened it to see it was empty, I laughed. Not a healthy laugh, mind you. The sort that grates on your soul and makes you wish mercy on the poor bastard. That if they weren’t already dying, you’d wish they were. You wouldn’t begin to know if it was for you or them that you were wishing. But here I was, going to move on with my life yet again. I’d been living lost for so long, drifting. But I’d always made that choice. And here I was, making the choice again. I chose freedom once, and lost it somewhere along the way. I found it again. Funny.