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shadowcatcher66 · 11 months

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Way Down the Hill

Part 4

Sofia gazed over the high dune as she waited for the signal. There were only a few people in the West that knew how to catch a devilish man like Arthur Moore off guard. From the stories that Tom had told, He had killed both Tom’s younger brother, and his own wife. From the stories that Tom had told, Mr. Moore would be just as bad as her past abductor.

George Harrison came to the West from England. He had come there to profit off of a sponsored dig sight east of the town she lived in. When George first came to live in her town. He was an outsider. As time went on, he started to make a name for himself as the local doctor. His practice was medicines from the other side of the world–Britain and some other places on the globe. It wasn’t long until Sofia had her own problem.

Her son had been sick for a year now, and she would give anything to make him better. After a short examination Dr. George said he would have a treatment ready in a few days. After a few, Sofia and her boy went to the Doctors new office. That’s when she felt a prick on her neck, her face hitting the street, and blacked out.

When she woke up locked in a cell, and saw that her son wasn’t with her. He had been strapped to a chair on the other side of the barred wall. Standing in the shadows behind him was George Harrison. He told Sofia what her son really had. A sickness that was impossible to cure in the West. Cancer, that is what her son had, but cancer was not what killed him.

George said that he was going to find a way to cure it. That he would be the first one to do it. For months he trapped them in that dungeon. Only ever feeding them so often, and always giving them some sort of white colored sand as food. It wasn’t long after when his experiments started. He would often take the boy's blood, and inject him with an unnatural looking liquid. It was too much. Sofia couldn't stand to see this stranger slowly killing her son. She felt her palms begin to heat the cold iron bars as she shook them. Slowly they started to twist to her force. Soon George Harris could feel the heat coming from Sofia’s cell. He saw her and smiled. One last needle went into her son’s neck, and she watched as he died. Any effort to save him then was gone.

As Sofia’s eyes gazed up at the body of her son, as she saw the room starting to fill with fire. The bars meted in her hands. The horrified face of George Harrison fell to the ground in fear, but horrified wasn’t good enough. Sofia turned to him, and walked through the melted prison bars. She was going to kill him. She was going to melt him. And that's what she did before she fled her hometown. She killed that man so that there would be nothing to send back to England.

There, the signal. Sofia watched as most of the guards posted at the town's borders started to move. It was time to play her part. She quickly marched down from the sand that she had been watching from, and she made her way to the center of Wrenpoint. There she found a small house belonging to none other than Arther Moore. Sofia stepped inside so she wouldn’t be seen, and as she did, it became obvious how this man was living.

Papers were scattered across every surface. Notes, letters, all describing some kind of trade that had happened only two weeks prior. It was obvious that Arthur had been deeply stressed. Through all of the scribbled nonsense, Sofia could make out one name. Fletcher. It was quick, and she didn’t have time to wonder. She grabbed the paper and put it into her back pocket. She wondered how Tom was handling himself as she started to focus. As she did, she could feel heat sprouting from her fingertips, and soon she could see fire growing from her palms. It was a simple plan. Leave nothing to chance.

#fiction #western #fantasy #writing

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shadowcatcher66 · 11 months

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Way Down the Hill

Part 3

Wrenpoint, was thriving. The town that had no roads, and sandy hills naturally built on its sides. The town that served under one authority. A man named Arthur Moore. The Man that Tom was looking for. The Man Tom was here to kill.

Mr. Moore would turn seventy-four this year--an achievement he was proud of. The townspeople were setting up banners and flags all over Wrenpoint at his request. At his request Mr. Moore had posted several armed men at the town entrances, so that they may intervene on anyone who might intrude. One of these men was watching the horizon as directed. This was the daily routine. Watch for drifters, and send them off. Not much ever happened. He didn’t know that today was different.

People would always tell him he had a keen eye, useful for watchen. What he didn’t know was that his eye was so keen that he could spot a single figure approaching from the sand. This figure approached by foot. A hat on his head with boots nearly ankle deep in the dune. This was the figure of Tom Fletcher.

Tom knew that on a day like today there would be guards in place. That all of Wrenpoint would be secured. That today would be a celebration of Aurthor Moores victory over the minds of the people. A day to him that meant something. As Tom approached, he took note of the people on the edge of town. Just guards, so there’s no one to hurt who didn’t need hurting. As long as Sofia played her part correctly, they would be home free.

Tom approached cautiously. He didn’t know what kind of guns Mr. Moore had hired. He just knew that he would have to deal with them on his own.

“What'cha doin’ round here stranger?” The guard asked calmly. This was typical procedure. Every once in a while a drifter would wander near Wrenpoint. He just needed to make sure they leave.

“Minding my business. Same as you,” Tom responded.

“My business is making sure we don’t have a problem here. What’s yours stranger?”

“My business is with Arthur Moore. You wanna fetch him for me?” The guard's face went pale. It was as if he had seen a ghost. Tom had never met this man before. There was no way someone as young as he was would recognise him.

“Look Mister. I-I didn’t mean to offend you or nothin’. I-I was just doin’ my job you see?” It was a strange but familiar fear. Tom had felt it before. Fear of someone who would kill without hesitation.

“Why don’t you go get him for me.” Without another word, he ran off in search of Mr. Moore.

A few minutes passed before the guard came back. Behind him were twenty or so more guards with their pistols ready to fire. In the middle of it all was the man that Tom had been searching for. Arthur Moore. He had aged a lot since they last met, so much so that Tom didn’t know if Mr. Moore would recognize him. As the small troop started to approach, Tom started to undo the rope at his side. As he did, a voice called out from the moving bodies.

“So, who are you to do business with me?”

“One of the only men who knows how you run this town Mr. Moore.”

A small body came out from the guards blocking Tom’s view. An aged Arthur Moore was no pretty sight to see. His hair was thin and white. His face and chin were covered in scruff. And he had a cataract in his right eye. This was all that was left of Arthur Moore.

“Mr. Moore. I won’t lie to you. I came here out of revenge.” Arthur Moore hearing this started to laugh. Knowing that someone was here to take his life wasn’t news.

“So who in your family did I kill? A father? A child? Or more likely your brother.” This was no shock to Tom. He knew what kind of abilities Arthur Moore possessed.

“It was my brother, but you already knew that.” Arthur was starting to lose interest.

“If that's all, I’ll be on my way.”

“That’s not all Mr. Moore. I didn’t come to kill you.” Arthur turned back in interest.

“I came to make you suffer.” Tom raised a finger and pointed to a smoke column coming from the center of town. Arthur's eyes went wide as he turned to see the fire. It was his house. The house where Tom had been tortured. The house where he had killed his wife. The same house where he let Tom live.

Without having the chance to process, Arthur saw a lasso going over his head, and felt a rope tightening around his neck. Tom pulled on his lasso, and Arthur flew towards him. Tom drew his pistol and put the barrel on Arthur Moore’s head. This was it. It was finally time to kill him.

#fiction #western #fantasy #writing

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shadowcatcher66 · 11 months

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Way Down the Hill

Part two

It had been two days. Two days to reach the top of that hill where a small town stood. A hill so tall and long that the sand turned to stone. And it would take another if they were going to reach that town by foot. Despite the hardships, Mr. Tom Fletcher along with Ms. Sofia Beckett, were determined to reach their destination. A small desert town called Wrenpoint. The place that Tom once called home.

That mystery of a town that claimed to have little to no quota with the other parts of the west. A place built and raised on lies. There were only three to ever know the truth behind the veil of deceptions. Tom happened to be one of them. The other two were dead. Tom could remember every detail of the day he left. Of the day they died. Tom remembered his younger brother John. He remembered the way they used to play and get in trouble. The way they were always on the run. And the way John’s face looked as he laid dead on the ground. He also remembered his adoptive mother. The same woman that he had visited two days prior. Mary Moore. He could remember the way she smiled. He remembered the way her cooking would light up the face’s of him and his brother. But overall, Tom remembered when his adoptive father shot her for knowing the ugly truth. Indeed a cold face to remember. The face of the man who ran Tom out of his home. The face that murdered the only people that had ever loved him. Leaving him cold, and alone. Yes Tom well remembered the face of Mr. Arthur Moore, and how well he kept his secrets.

Yes, secrets that Tom had paid for. The payment on his skin being a constant reminder of the devil from his past. He could look at the scar on his shoulder from the time Mr. Moore ran a steak knife through it. He could feel the scar on his forehead from the time that Mr. Moore had beaten him and his brother on the forehead with rocks. But most of all, Tom could look in the mirror, and see the way he had only aged twelve years when it had been forty since he ran away. He remembered the white sand that Arthur Moore had poured down his throat, making him wherever he was now. Tom knew that he wasn’t the only one who had gone through this torture. His traveling partner Sofia. She went through worse pain than he could ever imagine. She had lost her son to these monsters, so she killed these monsters in his place. He knew that tomorrow they hunted a different kind of prey. This one was cunning, smart. He knew that there was only one thing Mr. Moore had ever cared about. And Thomas Fletcher knew how to burn his life to the ground.

#fiction #western #fantasy #writing

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shadowcatcher66 · 1 year

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Way Down the Hill

Part one

He stood. A tall man wearing worn brown clothes stood at the bottom of a hill. In the middle of the night. A man with a polished silver pistol covered by a dirty brown poncho stood in the lonely cemetery near the town he was raised in. A strange man with a lasso tied to his belt stood at a single grave.

“Mary?” His speech was practically a whisper.

“Mary, I hope you can hear me.” He looked down to confront the grave that made him so uneasy. On the grave there was a name engraved. Mary Moore, Loved By All. He stood there, motionless and cold, looking for some sort of sign that she could hear him.

“Mary, I don’t think you should forgive me for what I’ve done. I just hope you won’t resent me for what I do next.” He looked down even more. At his foot there was a single dried flower buried in the sand. He knelt down silently, and picked it up. As he held it, it started to bloom. He placed it back where it once was before the sand blew it away. When he let go, a completely refreshed blooming flower budded from out of the sand. A slight smile made its way across his face as he turned away. Behind him, he saw his partner who had been waiting respectfully.

“Is it time Tom?” She asked. He responded with a serious expression on his face.

“Yes Ms. Beckett. It’s time we go up road. It’s time I finally kill that man.”

#fiction #western #fantasy #writing

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