October 27, 2013
This is the first in hopefully several entries on filtering aspects of life through an eternal perspective. I intend to cover religious and political issues, and perhaps more. The purpose is to make my worldview clearer to my own eyes.
I have avoided this type of chiseling out my thoughts, because it is hard. However, I’ve found myself lost and afraid as of late. I wish to remedy that.
I’m also going to state here that I will resist the temptation to go back and edit posts when and if I come up with better ways to illustrate my thoughts, or if I should change my mind about something.
April 29, 2012
April 29, 2012
A man wearing a long black coat in July rode into Falcon Bluff.
He needed a drink. He leapt off as the stolen horse dropped dead of exhaustion. Without a backward glance, he began to trek towards the hazy image of the saloon at the end of the road. She’ll die slower than her horse, he promised himself.
It was a skittish town where most of the people were afraid of anyone. He walked the half mile between a dozen buildings alone. He stepped up onto the porch under a large sign that read Ritchey’s Place.
“I ain’t scared of you,” said a boy in a rocking chair.
The man stopped and turned towards him. He said nothing.
The boy looked at him with a determination that said I am scared of you, but my determination to look tough is stronger than my fear. The stranger removed his hat and bandana. He expected the boy’s stone face to melt at the site of his burned face.
The boy’s face flooded with horror and—concern?
“Uncle Ritchey! What happened?” he jumped and ran toward the man.
Click. His gun in the boy’s face. The boy nearly ran into it.
The bartender sauntered out onto the porch, rolled his eyes, leaned on a post, pulled a gun of his own. The man in black did not turn to face him.
“Barry—,” he said with a sigh, “who is this man?”
“I—,” Barry stammered, his eyes darting back and forth, “I thought he was you!”
Now the two men turned their faces to one another. There was a pregnant pause, and death was due. Neither man knew it, but the real man in black was looming with his scythe. While the twins stood paralyzed in wordless revelations about their childhood, an unseen bony hand sprung a delicate trap.