PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Walking out of the bar, Douglas walked into the dusty heat of midday Arizona. Strapped at his sides hung two revolvers. He looked around the one horse town, cigarette hanging from his dry, cracked lips. He took one last drag at it, and dropped it from his mouth before stopping it out with his equally cracked and dry boots. He was the last of his kind; a gunslinger. Firearms had become a thing of the past, and owning them as now illegal, thanks to the discovery that magic was real in the year 2020. He didn’t care. This was an art, not a crime. He sauntered over to his horse, and prepared it for the road. About 3 miles out, he comes across a broken down wagon, and clicks for the mare to stop, and dismounts. He squats down on his haunches to inspect the wagons bum wheel, and quickly realizes that it was intentionally broken. Sixth sense kicking in, he dives under the wagon just as a blast of lightning flies overhead. Douglas rolls over and sprints in the direction the lightning came from, just in time to see two Wardens standing there. 

“Douglas, we’s here to arrest you, son. You know you can’t be using them damned guns no more”, the fatter of the two yelled at him. He always hated having to deal with Wardens. He put his hands up in the air slowly, as he got down on his knees “I know it, I know it” he said  got down on both knees before firing 6 shots into both of their abdomens. Standing up, and dusting off his duster, he reloaded his two pistols, just in case he had missed someone with the first volley. He got back on top of his horse, and made off for the long, dusty trail again.

The day was mild, compared to the rest of the year on this scorched planet, though the sun still beat down upon him like a prize fighter. He ignored the fact that not much longer would damn near kill him, as he was nearly to his shack. He wasn’t worried about anything today, as he had the final piece to his new weapon. The twelve chambered, forty-five-seventy government revolver wasn’t easy to come by, and he damn near lost a leg trying to acquire it, but it was worth it. He finally reached his shack, tethered his horse, and inspected the surrounding area for any possible magical presence in the area. You didn’t live this long as a gun slinger without learning what the tell tale shimmer of a camouflaged mage.