Posts Tagged bad men

Come Hell or High Water

I haven’t written a short story in ages, but for some reason I’m feeling a bit creative today. I used to write a lot of them, before my good friend, Kellie Elmore, decided she wanted to be a photographer. She used to do a “Free Write Friday” on her blog, and I enjoyed the heck out of it. So here ya go! Hope you enjoy it!

Come Hell or High Water

man shadow 2

As I passed beneath the street lamp, out of the corner of my eye I saw my shadow quiver. Maybe the beer-tender had been right when she’d said, “You’ve had enough. Go home.” I grinned and thought, “Her bad”, as my shadow glanced my way then slid with me into the dark night where only a spattering of stars and a pale sliver of moon strained through thin clouds to light the black tar road.

She should’ve known it was the wrong thing to say. She knows me well enough to know if I’m told I can’t, or shouldn’t do something, or have something, then do, or have it, I will. Come hell or high water, as they say. Especially considering what had happened this morning. But then, she couldn’t know. No one knew. Yet. But they would. And when they knew, it would be too late for this backwater piece-of-crap town. Because by then, the proverbial water would be too deep, and literal hell would be at their doorstep.

First thing I had to do was get some guns. I didn’t own any, and being an over the hill, white conservative man, that fact had surprised more than one of my friends. I use the word friend loosely, because truth be known, I couldn’t put a hand on the shoulder of one man in this town—or any other town—who would claim me as a friend. Not that I’m a bad, or unlikeable guy, but… well… maybe I am, in a way. What I am, when you get right down to it, is a loner, and people can feel that. And feeling it is more than sensing it, if you get my drift. It makes their shadow quiver.

As for not having any guns, when they ask me I always answer the same way, “Don’t need any guns, and if I ever do, I know who has them.” I love the looks I get when I say that. You say something like that, you got to look at their eyes. You can read a person’s mind through their eyes. Especially when their afraid. Come to think of it, that’s probably why I don’t have any friends. I scare the hell out of people.

I guess you could say I’m the strong, silent type. One of those guys you can tell a joke to, if you can settle for a sideways grin in place of a laugh. A guy you can nudge, but you best be sure the nudge doesn’t have even a hint of a shove to it. One of those guys you can tell with one look—because that’s all he’ll tolerate—you don’t want to mess with him. A guy who can intimidate a bigger man with just a glance; something in the blue eyes—a mixture of cold steel and I-don’t-give-a-rat’s-ass—that say without saying, he won’t be taking no shit off nobody. A guy that knows he’s gonna die, but knows it ain’t gonna happen today, and you sure as hell ain’t gonna have anything to with it.

So… you want to be my friend?

Copyright © C MASHBURN 2017

Click here to read part two –> What I Meant to Say Was…

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