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Blood and death are waiting like a raven in the sky. He turned the phrase over in his mind. He could still picture the beggar that had hissed at him so, and now it seemed the strangeness of the episode had taken on the air of prophecy. A gentle breeze passes by; he can feel it on his palms. Unaware he catches his reflection aided by the dim moonlight. He looked at a man he thought he recognized, but there was something different. His eyes were different, yet, no one noticed. Had anyone the chance to closely inspect they would see the blood vessel above his temple, or perhaps they would hear his heart. His heart, it was too loud, he thought the sound would shatter his chest, each beat like thunder reverberating through his body. But, no one would notice, these people had not come here to notice such minutia. They were all here, staying back, but in close view, and their hushed voices couldn’t hide the fact that they were all muttering one thing, when.
Honor is a thing not to be delayed, so he tilted his head to see the man who wanted him dead, the man he would try to kill. He took a quick glance at his revolver by his hip for the last time, the silver handle shone like a star. This was his chance, the time was now; he felt his damp hand touch the cool handle. At the same time an observer who had been driven by the sound of his beating heart now stood perched by the steeple, looking and waiting for the drum of his heart to secede. Before he felt the lead pierce his chest he had one last thought. It was a thought of the woman he loved who’s capricious and uncouth actions had led him into this duel.
The beating stopped and our observer left the post, glided through the town, almost transcending it. Quickly it went straight to its owner, and the sight of the raven brought a smile to the old beggar, her rotten teeth swallowing the moonlight.
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I needed something to distract me for a few minutes.
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