NSFW: Another rushed piece I didn’t have time to finish. Busy with the new job! Like the previous, I’ve drawn from Stephen King massively. I also get inspiration from the likes of Jo Nesbo and even Dean Koontz who has a particular way of describing a scene. Anyhoo, this one’s a little NSFW, hence I starred out the title.
The first glint of sun over the town always brought a smile to his usually melancholy face. A brightness that shone hard across the baked earth, against the worn brick and wood of the town. The backs of the people he cherished. The people who had turned those same backs to him, to which he now found himself stood beneath the hanging post, out in the middle of the street, with naught but the bitter dust in his eyes and a sadness in his heart.
“Dolly’ll be a comin’ over from the store. You wanna save those last words?” Said a small, sneering looking man with a pointed nose, ripped chaps about his jeans and the index finger of his right hand missing. They called him The Fucker. On account he was always flicking them the bird right before his .44 punched a hole in their chest.
Garland smiled from his place atop the decking. His body pulled to tip-toe inside the hangman’s noose. He could feel them all. The dozens of eyes staring at him from beneath awnings, inside the tavern windows to his left and the hotel sills to his right. All too afraid to come on outside to watch their Mayor die in cold blood.
Because that was what is was. Murder. Not an execution. Murder was what you called the killing of an innocent man. Only the guilty were executed.
“You got this ass backwards.” His voice hoarse from lack of water, The Fucker barely heard him and had to tilt his head to catch the words against the wind.
The small man laughed, pointing his shitty, annoying little middle finger at Garland. “We said, didn’t we. I said. We’d gon’ get you. Never listened. Thought you were the fuckin’ God o’ this town. No sir. Not yours. You knew this would happen now.”
“Never underestimate a man’s opportunity to be a complete fuck wit, that’s for damn sure.”
“Bad spot, Mayor, to be a makin’ jests to your Reaper,” He jibbed, enjoying the control. The power.
© Jason R. Vowles 2015