Realistic or Modern Strangest Place in the West

[Sir Monsieur]

Nash sat at the end of the bar eyeing all the beautiful women. He was in the saloon sipping on watered down sasparilla. It didn't necessarily taste good but was the best he could afford at the moment, besides Nash couldn't really hold his liquor. Last time he had a shot of Whiskey he blacked out. When he came too he was in a horse trough, broke and had mysterious stains on his clothing. He gave a small sigh as he reflected on the memory. Deffently not one of his proudest moments. The "Gunslinger" looked up from his drink, he positioned his head slightly to the right to get a glance at the situation. A man seemed to be vomiting uncontrollably. Nash brought his attention back to his drink thinking of nothing imparticular.

It was by the time he finished his drink when a perplexed man started yelling about his favorite shoes. The man appeared to be in his early fifties and had long silver hair. To Nashe's understanding, he was a doctor and apparently not a very sympathetic one. The doctor had drawn his pistol on the man. "Well, I was not expecting that one" He mumbled under his breath. Immediately the sheriff broke up the two. The sheriff was a much bigger man than the doctor and let me say the sheriff was not happy about this one bit. He began to lecture on how he would hang the doctor if he had to.

Nash adjusted his eye patch, it was such a pain to wear. It was itchy plus he had a blind spot over the left side of his body making him very vulnerable, but with this disguise, no one really messed with him. It was very useful he got peace and quiet giving him much time to think. Thinking and reading were probably one of his favorite pastimes, along with the occasional smoke. He stared bitterly at his glass, empty as usual.

The "Gunslinger" quivered in his seat when he heard an opulent voice that seemed to be coming from the left of him. "Hello there big fella," She said. Nash had to control his excitement for a moment. He had already made a mental picture of her based on her voice. He put a small grin on his face. "Hello, there how are you?" The women quickly responded with "How about you buy me a drink and tell me about your troubles," She was telling the bartender to drop a pint over here. "Certainly, my treat" The bartender had a pint of some of the best-looking beer he had ever seen, but the pint did not stop for him no, it went to the left of him.

He quickly twisted his head left to find a rather attractive woman, sadly the beer didn't stop between the two. It was placed with a mighty big fellow who had an astonished look plastered on his face and the women accompanying him. "Damned eyepatch." He muttered. It's fine he wasn't looking for that kind of accompaniment anyway. He left some money at the bar and marched off.

He pushed open the saloon doors and quickly walked out. He was greeted by a dreary overcast and a barren road. Of course, he wasn't complaining just about anything was better than the sun. Nash looked around, there weren't many people roaming the streets today, but certain women caught his eye she looked fairly new in town. He would have gone and introduced himself but it was simply not in character. The "Gunslinger" Began to roam around the town looking for something to do. It did not take him long to find himself roaming through some corn fields leading to the church.

As he began to approach the end of the path the wonderful aroma of smoke filled his nostrils. It seems someone was already at the end of the path. Nash was genuinely shocked to find the bartender sitting in the graveyard smoking. He had chosen a mighty fine spot to smoke, nice and secluded from all the noise of the salon. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it on a lantern. Nash sat himself next to the bartender, he took in a deep puff of smoke.

"So what brings you out here?" He said breathing out smoke.

Shireling

 

[spectro]

After having bought a lovely pair of silk gloves from the dress makers, Lizzy walked back out onto the street. She held the bag that Henrietta had given her at her side and was looking out, down the street. The lady was nowhere to be seen. Lizzy had to admit that she felt a little better, but the sudden thoughts of home and the awfulness of the morning had made her feel even worse. Looking to the end of town and the saloon, Lizzy wondered if she would have time visit her Father's grave. It'd been a while since she had been to his final resting place, and the place made her feel calm. Sometimes, the living could be so cruel and load and harmful, that she wanted to be alone with the souls that had passed over. She decided that if she was quick, she would be back in time to give Lizzy a tour.

Lizzy had been brought up in a Catholic household, but she had never really been a big believer in the bible or in heaven and hell. She did, however, believe in a god; a higher being. And she knew, or at least hoped, that if there was a god, he would value kindness and love more than anything, and he wouldn't be bothered about mistakes or 'sins'. On the short road to the church, Lizzy picked up a few cactus flowers to set on her Pap's grave. With the Church in full view, Elizabeth crossed the road, passing the cornfields. She set her eyes on the plot that she knew her father was buried, a small wooden cross indicating that was where he was. Her Father had given strict instructions to be buried in the church yard. It was traditional for their family to be buried on the farm, but Hamish hadn't wanted that. He had known, even when he was still alive, that the family would be poor without him, and that they might lose the farm. He didn't want his body to be forgotten or left behind.

Lizzy walked under the wooden gateway and over to her Father's plot. Her Father had been a good man, a kind man, a man who had always provided and who always thought of other people before himself. Lizzy wondered if there were any other men like him. She hoped so. Perhaps that was why she saw the good in everyone. Bending down, she set the desert flower down, the bright orange petals blowing in the slight breeze. "I love ya, Daddy." She closed her eyes for a moment and said a silent prayer.

As she stood up, Lizzy spotted Thomas on one end of the graveyard, a man she had never seen before to his side. She debated going over. Thomas had always been mighty kind to her, always seeming sweet and understanding. She had always looked to him for a kind face when Midge's own stone eyes were too much to bear. Agreeing with herself, she started to walk over, holding her dress with her free hand. "Afternoon', gentlemen," She stood in front of them, doing a slight curtsy, realising there was no room left on the bench. Though, there was no obligation for them to stand. She was no lady and she hardly deserved to sit. "Fancy seein' you here, Tommy. Midge finally let you have a break?" She smiled a little.

Shireling Sir Monsieur

 

[Sir Monsieur]

Nash glanced up at the women only to quickly pull his attention back to his cigarette. He blew out the word "hello" but it was quite obvious that she didn't come over for him. This didn't really bother him in any way what so ever but he did feel obligated to offer his seat to the kind women but it was simply not in character. This is one of the things that frustrated him the most, not being able to break character. Yes, the first couple of years were quite fun and probably the most fun he would ever have, doing whatever you wanted but lately, it's grown stale. Nash has been rather quiet for a year or two trying to find something to bring him entertainment again and no luck. Perhaps it was time to put up the costume and assume the role of himself.

Shireling spectro

 

[Shireling]

Thomas watched Nash approach, squinting at him as he sat down beside him and lit a cigarette.

"So what brings you out here?" The 'gunslinger' as he had heard that cat called, said to him.

"The quiet," Thomas mused, "and the crows. They always seem angry to me. Like they want us off the land. My pa used to tell a story about how the Chocktaw and the Creek made friends with the bears and the snakes. Then, when white men came, the Creek and Chocktaw were no more. That's why bears and snakes hate white men."

He took a long drag. "Although I met a Creek named Josiah in New Orleans once, one of those Christian injuns. He said he was afraid of snakes. So, it was a nice story anyways. I'm rambling."

Another puff, smoke rose. He watched as a figure... a thin woman in a... It was Lizzy. He watched as she set some flowers by her father's grave and approached them. He tipped his hat to her as she did so, and smiled politely. He noticed her glance shift to the bench, and although she wasn't exactly a lady, he had been raised better and so he stood his full, rather-unimpressive height, and motioned for her to sit down.

"She didn't really let me have it. I sort of took it. The place was really starting to smell up. I hope we don't have some sort of Indian plague in town."

He straightened his lace tie and chuckled reassuringly. Lizzy was a whore, but everyone has a redeeming side to themselves. He hadn't exactly figured out what Lizzy's was yet, but he was apt to try.

spectro Sir Monsieur

 

[Sir Monsieur]

Nash blew out a puff of smoke. "Good Choice." He said cooly. This is one reason why Nash enjoyed this spot so much it served as a veil, a secluded spot from this chaotic town. He tapped the ashes from his cigarette and took one last deep breath before stomping the cigarette butt into the ground. The gunslinger reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small box of cigarettes. He opened it up with a frown. There was only one left, as anyone would be he was quite saddened by this. He reluctantly took the last one out very carefully, he did this so discreetly, in fact, he treated it as if it was a small child. "And the crows" Thomas responded. This was quite a puzzling response, it even made Nash look up from his spot. Thomas seemed to be speculating the crows wanted us white men off the land. Nash couldn't really say much to that comment he wasn't fully white. "Perhaps" He mumbled. Nash did think of it as a fairly interesting story, you don't here about those very often.

spectro Shireling