Writing Challenge #5

Write a story in a Western genre, using the key word: Microwave.

Joshua Mullins had been riding for three days. He was hungry and grumpy in equal measure, and the sight of Little Creek in the valley did little to raise mood.

The sheriff’s men were hard on his tail, and so taking shelter in the town would offer him some vantage point in which to make a stand. The price already on his head meant he’d be a wanted man no matter where he went, as every town had a man with a gun eager to cash in on a bounty.

He would have to ride in guns blazing, then ride hard to the church. It’s bell tower would give high vantage as well as excellent cover. What he hadn’t banked on were the lawmen already being there.

Gun shots rang out into the air as he charged straight at a wall of hired men and the Sheriff himself. Realising his number had been called, he pulled short his horse and stared at a dozen pair of steely eyes.

“You’ve been a mighty inconvenience to me and my boys Joshua,” said the Sheriff spitting a glob of chewing tobacco onto the floor.

Joshua circled his horse on the spot weighing up his options. “You being here already is a mighty inconvenience to me too Sheriff, so I guess that makes us even.”

“You and I Joshua, a straight forward test to see who’s faster.”

“And if I win, I get to ride out of here.”

“No Joshua, you will have killed a lawman and so my boys are going to have to kill you, but at least you’d have died knowing you bested me.”

“Seem mighty unfair odds, but I guess I’m gonna die anyway.”

The two men faced off ten yards apart with the hired guns watching on, their guns trained on the unlucky Joshua. Sweat poured across the brow of both men and each stared for any sign of movement.

Bang Bang! It was over.

The body of Joshua Mullins lay face down upon the dusty street of Little Creek. His fate for holding up a stagecoach at gun point sealed.

“Tea time!” came a voice off to the left. Everybody congratulated each other as they made their way to the camp fire.

“Wow those smell beaut,” said Pete Allison, a man strangely resembling Joshua. “Did you cook these on the fire?”

“No,” said the cook. “There’s a microwave hidden round the back.”

The rest of the IT Consultancy firm laughed as they tucked into the food. The afternoon town shoot out roleplay was eagerly awaited by them all.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown 


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