GLAD-O-WAR
GLAD-O-WAR stories
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anonymousguy
anonymousguyCommunity member
Autoplay OFF  •  2 months ago
A storm was coming, but it was not there yet. Like a hungry animal, he was cold, while his eyes rummaged the tavern across the road. Although he never saw the man in person, he kept a bill with his picture at all times.

GLAD-O-WAR

The dark clouds were gathering together to form an ominous shape, bearing the warnings of a storm. Flashes of lightning made the earth quiver in awe. It felt that the Gods are displeased today.

A one-eyed crow kept circling over the empty roads as if someone will serve him food very soon.

A young man stood on the porch of a saloon smoking his cigarette.

His clothes looked dirty and shabby, and his hat was discolored from all the sun it has seen, but the pistol in his waist looked shiny and the only thing he cared about.

It seemed as if he is riding for a long time searching for something. He was in his late 20's, but his face was full of scars which made it impossible for someone to guess his age.

His tall, lanky structure, golden hair, blue eyes, and rugged looks could have easily made him a lady’s man, but his heart throbbed for only one girl, that was his wife.

The cigarette burnt his fingers to get his attention as he quickly disposed of it and lighted a new one. He was turning back time in his mind.

His life was not much to talk about before his lady love came.

How beautiful were those days spent with her? He closed his eyes, and he could see her again, her spotless, perfect skin beamed like the moon, and she smiled without a word.

Quickly he opened his eyes thinking that she will still be there, but she wasn't.

He was tired for the long rides, but he felt that today maybe was the day Fate would deliver the person responsible for his wife's death.

That day still haunts him when he returned home to find his wife's lifeless naked body on the floor. His dearest was raped and killed by a well-known criminal wanted dead or alive.

He had no intention to take him alive.

The atmosphere was gloomy, and the air felt constipated. It was dark as night, but there was no breeze. A storm was coming, but it was not there yet.

Like a hungry animal, he was cold, while his eyes rummaged the tavern across the road. Although he never saw the man in person, he kept a bill with his picture at all times.

Every night he memorized the image so that he makes no mistake when he finally meets him and greets him with a bullet to his brain.

Finally, the moment came. A drop of sweat appeared on the forehead of our hero as he saw a familiar face coming out of the tavern across the road.

A plump middle-aged man was visible at the door holding two fat breasted prostitutes in his arms. He was laughing about something, and his golden teeth sparkled. The moment for action was here.

The shiny pistol was drawn in the blink of an eye by the young man. Although plump and older the ruffian had excellent reflex as he pulled the girl from his right to shield him.

A deafening sound broke the silence. Blood splashed on the gold teeth and the fat face. The girl was dead.

He scampered towards his horse for his gun when a bullet narrowly missed him and passed by his ears. He was almost there trying to pull out his shotgun from the saddle.

The third bullet made way through his waist. He drops on the road. Death was near; death was now. Another bullet hits his belly, and he took his last few breaths.

All he could see through his blurry vision was the face of a young man and all he could hear was an outcry of "For my wife.

" The final deed of the vagrant was pulling the trigger of the shotgun with all the strength he could gather.

The silence was restored once again, and the only thing one could hear now was the gushing of the winds.

The raven swooped down and feasted on the entrails of a dead body. It pecked inside where the head was a few minutes ago. The tall, lanky dead did not protest.

It started to drizzle now, and blood was washed down the street and from the three departed beings. The one-eyed raven had the last laugh.

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