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Glimpses of the Past

 
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Glenn Douglas
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Joined: 12 Apr 2010
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PostPosted: Mon Oct 17, 2016 7:51 am    Post subject: Glimpses of the Past Reply with quote

Glenn stood somewhere in one of the few dusty streets of York. He couldn't tell the time of day, it was cloudy and overcast. It could be early morning or evening and he wouldn't know the difference. The light from the sun seemed to come from all places at once, a single unifying glow. He could see well enough in the pale light afforded, filtering on overhead from those many, many clouds. In his hand was a gun of dark metal with an old and worn grip. The Dragoon's hammer was cocked back and his finger was on the trigger. He held it at arms length pointed at a man who stood a few short feet away, holding a similar weapon.

"Come on," Brandon said. "You know I can't let you leave, Glenn."

"You ain't got a choice. I gotta go."

"Christ, Glenn. You blew a hole in the jailhouse. We picked you up with Hexx. What happened to those people back there?"

"We needed to eat."

Brandon's mouth drew into a thin line.

"It's not too late to turn yourself in, little brother. You're a Douglas, after all, and that means somethin' around these parts. I know the judge, he's a fair man. We can help you."

Glenn's expression was a sharp and dangerous smile. He rolled his eyes.

"Cut the *** , Brandon. Ain't nothin' you can do right now, nothin' you should do. This ain't about you or me or the ***' Douglas name. I gotta do this. You got no ***' idea what these guys are up to, what they're capable of. You take me back to that prison cell and they'll swarm in on you from every which way. You want York to burn?"

"I think you overestimate your importance, Glenn."

Glenn made a humming, musing sound. "Maybe."

Brandon stepped forward.

"Don't move," Glenn said. "Brandon, I mean it. This ain't goin' down the way you like, but you still got time to back off. I'll leave, just stay the *** back."

Brandon took another step forward.

"God damn it, I said stay back! I don't make ***' threats, brother. Don't play this game, you ain't gonna win."

"You ain't gonna shoot me, Glenn," Brandon said. He took a step forward.

Glenn shot him.

Brandon Douglas' face erupted in a shower of red. His lifeless body thumped to the dirt and sent clouds of dust rolling up into the air. Glenn kept the gun pointed at the air where he'd been standing like he half expected his brother to rise up again. He lowered it slowly and looked down at the corpse. He didn't look so much like Brandon anymore. He could have been anyone, any man. Brandon's face had never had so much blood on it. His eyes had never looked so lifeless.

"I told you," Glen said, and he felt his stomach turn over on itself.

A door burst open from a building to his right and Glenn drew his gun again. A woman came running out, she was clutching at her skirts. Her face was pretty, even now when it was so stricken with fear, pain, and grief. She stumbled next to Brandon's body and sank to her knees, defeated, and she cradled his bloodied head in her lap. Glenn crouched down on the other side of his brother's body. The woman was crying silent tears and Glenn appreciated that. He hated hearing a woman crying. Seeing it wasn't so bad as hearing it.

"You his wife?"

She nodded stiffly. She wouldn't look at Glenn.

"Guess that makes you my sister-in-law."

"We're not family," she said coolly. "You're a God damned coward."

"Hmm," Glenn nodded and stood. He holstered the gun and walked away.

_________________
I go on journeys out of my body and look at my red hands and my mean face and I wonder about that man who's gone so wrong.
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Madison Rye
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PostPosted: Mon Oct 17, 2016 10:33 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

A dream.

Maida?!"

There was an edge to her voice, as it fell away in the dust and dim. She was a shadow amongst shadows, eyes seeking the sable-eyed child who had seemingly drifted into thin air. There was a something about the girl that leant itself to the world of spectres, and like a shroud, unsettlement prickled, across her shoulders and down her spine. It was a lukewarm angst that filtered through her. But her eyes were burnished with the glow of the early evening, and they, not unlike Douglas', blazed as she began moving along the landing, trying door handles and searching the corners for the small form of a girl who, illogically, she worried may have, or may yet, become ephemeral. Her touch small and cold. And her eyes endlessly dismal. "Maida?"

A shadow stepped from the slanted light of a door whining open. Tall, lithe, and from behind it, another shadow, smaller. Crowned with matted near-white hair. Two shadows holding hands. Seeing, Madison froze, chin tilted, gaze drawing what lines it could to make a semblance. Features too blurred to make a recognition spark in her mind

"Good to see you again", said this questionable being. Mystery threaded in the very vibration of his tone in the empty hotel.

It was a voice that could crack clay.

It was there, that the man slain and very much dead, beside Maida in the town of Decrepit, long days ago, stepped forth. Maida pulled along. "This.... this can't be...." pale fingers traced along the handle, warming it in the shaken grip of her good arm. "This...." she trails off, and how many times had the dead risen? Were they not to sleep eternally, but rise, and return? Was there some dark compass that led her again here, this road, tread and retread, to faded velvet. The bells tolled in the dead city, and the desert had no answer. No the whistling wind on the plains, even though they were oddly cherished, known, remembered, once trusted to carry her and all the denials.

In an extended moment of delayed and vibrant horror, Madison saw that Maida no longer possessed eyes, but regarded her with the gruesome hollow of sockets staring back. Her Father, still in bloodied shirt and ruined skin, grave-dust and sin, he smiled. "Oh, love, but it is", cigarette smoke, curling up into the air, where answers were not of a reason the mind could reach... curling, up, up, up.

The gunslinger let the fear crawl and slither. Harnessed in its grip. If you let it come, let it curl up close, you can catch it. Own it. "No.... "

Refusing to believe it, astonishment painted her face.

whiskey, regret, rust, guilt.....

Maida screamed, inhuman and feral, a sound reserved for the myths you don't want to hear, and then she was no more. Her entire being desiccating before Madison's very eyes, to a pile of beetles and ash. The sound of their scuttling something to wear. Madison drew, aimed. Hand shaking bad.

The stranger smirked, stepped on his smoke, ground it into the floorboards with a waxed heel, and stepped away into nothing.





Madison sat up in bed panting.

"***."
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