Dead Man's Hand

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Westerns  |  House: Booksie Classic
This story is the basis of an idea for a comic-book I plan on writing with my friend one day. I'm not sure either of us are ready for it yet so it'll b some time. Enjoy.

Submitted: July 18, 2013

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Submitted: July 18, 2013

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With the sound of a gun a black aura slowly began to engulf the sun, white wisps struck out as if trying to escape the darkness.  A lone gunman looked up at this spectacle, knowing that his time had come again, he sighed. He moved his duster back to holster his colt, the hot barrel left scars on the battered leather. Not far from him a small pool of blood gathered around a motionless body, but with shadow slowly encroaching he had no time to pay it any attention. He pushed up his hat revealing his weathered face, a long white scar followed down from his eye to a rugged beard ending at the base of his chin.

With a sharp whistle a horse appeared from the horizon and ran to the gunslingers side. The hot desert slowly was taken under the veil of cold shadow. Quickly the cowboy jumped onto his steed, light slowly fading as the black presence replaced the sun. Kicking his spurs into the horse he chased the remaining light, hoping to find sanctuary. As the shadow closed in he felt an icy grip hold him close. He recognized the discomforting cuddle of Death’s bosom, the stallion began to slow under this cold embrace.

“It’s ok boy.” He said petting the horses mane. As he stepped off the saddle dust curled beneath his boots. He breathed in as the jingle of spurs came closer, a black figure approached him. Wearing a black hat, duster and a wicked white grin which pierced the shadows that covered his face.

“Hello there Jeremiah.” The dark figure said.

“We meet again.” The cowboy answered. “Death.”

“Heehee.”

“I see you got a new look. Tired of that ol’ scythe?”

“It was a little cliché, don’t you think?” He laughed. Death’s smile quickly faded as he drew a golden revolver and pulled back the hammer. The bullet soared through the air, quickly Jeremiah drew a single playing card and cast it at the bullet. A spark shot out as the card and bullet collided. It slid over toward Death, he turned his head as he leaned down to pick up the card.

“The ace of spades, my favorite.” The card depicted a skull within the spade, between the skulls eyes, a smoking bullet hole. Death laughed maniacally.

“Careful there Death, your hubris is showing.” Another shot sounded as Death’s hat flew off his head. A bullet hole now found its place between Death’s eyes and although his pale skull could not show emotion, he was clearly enraged.

The dark aura which had taken the sun hostage had began to fade and light returned to the desert land.

“Looks like I live once more Death.” Jeremiah mocked.

“Feh, alright cowboy. Enjoy your time in the warm sun, soon I’ll bring you to the cold darkness of Hell.” As the light flowed over Death, he slowly faded away.

“I’ll be waiting old friend.”


© Copyright 2018 Tucker Haase. All rights reserved.

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