Wednesday, 24 March 2010

Raven # 1 - Part 1

Dedided to post some short stories I wrote a while back on here, posted as I wrote them back then, apologies for any typo's etc.

John :)



Part 1)

“Nobody’s as dark as Raven that’s what folks used to say” muttered the old man glancing up at the younger man across the table from him.

The other man nodded, gesturing for him to continue. He was researching a book on the real Gunfighters of the Wild West he was writing, a few people had mentioned the name Jon Raven, he’d never heard of him and had been intrigued, the trail had led him here, a dingy bar room in old Tucson and the man across from him.

“Because when he was in a black mood he was the meanest, hardest and deadliest son of a bitch to ever stride across the old West” the old timer continued.

“They called him the Widowmaker, so many women left without a man in Raven’s wake” he sighed, nodding sagely, He picked up his beer and gulped some down

“Carry on, tell me more, what was he like?” asked the writer.

“Different from the rest”

“How, How was he different?” prodded the younger man.

“About 6 feet tall, always wore black”

“Lots of people wore black back then” argued the writer, butting in.

“I know that dammit” the other man countered angrily “let me finish”

“Black leather, always wore black leather, Pants, shirt, coat, boots, hat and gun belt, all black like some dark avenging angel” he continued.

“Pale skinned, golden hair hanging way down his back, lots of men called him a women because of the hair, only said it once though, never got another chance, none of them” laughed the old timer. “It was the eyes though, they eyes made him different”

“The eyes?” queried the author, scribbling some more in his notepad.

“Blue, so light they had almost no colour and when you looked into ‘em, it was like looking into the cold depths of hell” shuddered the old boy “Many a man froze when he looked into those eyes, gave Raven the edge many a time”.

The old man picked up his beer, sipped at it again, his hand shaking slightly as he drank.

“Yeah, the eyes and the weapons he carried, strange mixture of stuff, like no-one else I ever heard of” he went on “Here’s where he first became really well known, folk knew of him before, but what he did here changed it all, made him famous I guess”

“Here?” asked the scribbling man.

“Tucson, here in Tucson, that’s when he really hit the headlines” muttered the old man.

“Tell me” asked the writer.

“OK” said the other man grinning “I will, people should know about Raven”

The old man started to talk, the writer pulled out a notebook and pen from his backpack and started scribbling.

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