P
poketaces101
Guest
The smell of pepper had shimmied up my nose once before. I was much more naive the last time I escaped.
I had been spreading pepper around the cattail field for about 15 minuets before I heard the hound dogs again. Without thinking I drop my bag of pepper and run towards town. Before I can get to town I have to stop at my brother’s shack, I needed to get some of the main essentials for my escape.
I know that the hound dogs are getting chocked up from the pepper I had put in the field. By the time I get to my brothers shack I can’t even hear the dog’s barks.
I knock on the door, not saying a word. He does not yet know of my escape. As the door opens the rusty hinges creak from the lack of oil.
The door slowly opened. As the door opened, I saw a man with a red beard, balding hair, and a broken pair of bifocals. He was definitely my brother.
“What do ye want?” my brother said still not adapting to the American ways of speaking.
“You can’t tell boyle,” I ask, wondering if he even has a clue that it’s me.
“Back off me property or I’ll shoot ye back to Saint Patrick’s garden,” my brother shouts in sake off his wife and young son.
“It’s me Angus can’t ye tell.”
“Devlyn, when did ye get oot.”
“Can I explain this to you inside.” Angus invites me inside, and pours a fresh cup of tea.
The last time I saw Angus’ son who was the size of my hand. That was about 4 years ago. He was born just around the time I killed for the last time. I guess you could say when he was born, I left the side of me I once knew very well.
I had stayed at Angus’ house for about another hour. I knew that to fully escape, I couldn’t sleep at Angus’ house. I needed to get into town. Before I left Angus gave me a old canteen, a freshly washed blanket, and some old farming clothes.
That night I slept in an abanded bathhouse. Some of the water valves still worked so I filled up my canteen and washed my face and my arms.
The morning sun creaked through the ragged walls of the bathhouse to wake me up. I stood up and stepped out of the tub that I had slept in that night.
While I walked to the sink to wash my face I tripped over a piece of the floorboard. I was pretty sure I had broken my pinkie toe.
After I got done washing my face I heard the grunting of some Calvary men. I turned off the water, lifted up the floorboard I had tripped over earlier, and crawled under it.
I could hear the men’s boot’s spurs clanking together. The men did not enter right away but eventually popped open the door with a tree stump.
“Where ya at boy,” said a man in a voice I very much well known. It was the man I killed brother’s voice. “Come on out ya yella,” the man whispered. The man quickly snapped his fingers and another man, using a blacksmith’s hammer, started to smash up all the tubs.
“Boss!” the man who was smashing up the tubs shouted. “He was here. One tub is still wet so he shouldn’t be far.
“Alright,” said the other man, “lets inform the town of thus yella.” All the men storm out of the bathhouse and ride off on their horses.
I crawled backward giving me enough room to slither out of the crevice. I stood up and notice something. They took my blanket. I was hoping to use the blanket for tonight’s bitter cold. My only choice for today was to stroll into town looking for someone to help me even though they could easily kill me.
The town was about one mile away from the house I stayed at that night. From the hill I was standing on I could see it and a nearby stream. Before I walked into the town I filled up my canteen. After I took a swig of the dirty water I walked towards the town’s strip. I saw a saloon so decided to stop in for some whiskey.
“Excuse me, barkeep.” I clear my throat. “Can I have a shot of whiskey.”
The bartender didn’t say a word. He grabbed a bottle, a shot glass, and his gun and asked, “Why shouldn’t I kill you.”
I give him a little chuckle and say, “You can’t.” Then I drank my shot, punched the bartender in the face, fracturing his nose, and I rolled over the table. As I rolled over the table I grabbed the man’s gun and guarded myself with the bar table.
The men from earlier in the day busted open the door and without missing a beat the start shooting at me. They flipped over two tables and continued to shoot at me.
I lean over the table and shoot one man in the chest but one man was quick enough to clip me in the shoulder. The bullet didn’t really do critical damage to my health so I continued to fight for my life
It is still not finished
I had been spreading pepper around the cattail field for about 15 minuets before I heard the hound dogs again. Without thinking I drop my bag of pepper and run towards town. Before I can get to town I have to stop at my brother’s shack, I needed to get some of the main essentials for my escape.
I know that the hound dogs are getting chocked up from the pepper I had put in the field. By the time I get to my brothers shack I can’t even hear the dog’s barks.
I knock on the door, not saying a word. He does not yet know of my escape. As the door opens the rusty hinges creak from the lack of oil.
The door slowly opened. As the door opened, I saw a man with a red beard, balding hair, and a broken pair of bifocals. He was definitely my brother.
“What do ye want?” my brother said still not adapting to the American ways of speaking.
“You can’t tell boyle,” I ask, wondering if he even has a clue that it’s me.
“Back off me property or I’ll shoot ye back to Saint Patrick’s garden,” my brother shouts in sake off his wife and young son.
“It’s me Angus can’t ye tell.”
“Devlyn, when did ye get oot.”
“Can I explain this to you inside.” Angus invites me inside, and pours a fresh cup of tea.
The last time I saw Angus’ son who was the size of my hand. That was about 4 years ago. He was born just around the time I killed for the last time. I guess you could say when he was born, I left the side of me I once knew very well.
I had stayed at Angus’ house for about another hour. I knew that to fully escape, I couldn’t sleep at Angus’ house. I needed to get into town. Before I left Angus gave me a old canteen, a freshly washed blanket, and some old farming clothes.
That night I slept in an abanded bathhouse. Some of the water valves still worked so I filled up my canteen and washed my face and my arms.
The morning sun creaked through the ragged walls of the bathhouse to wake me up. I stood up and stepped out of the tub that I had slept in that night.
While I walked to the sink to wash my face I tripped over a piece of the floorboard. I was pretty sure I had broken my pinkie toe.
After I got done washing my face I heard the grunting of some Calvary men. I turned off the water, lifted up the floorboard I had tripped over earlier, and crawled under it.
I could hear the men’s boot’s spurs clanking together. The men did not enter right away but eventually popped open the door with a tree stump.
“Where ya at boy,” said a man in a voice I very much well known. It was the man I killed brother’s voice. “Come on out ya yella,” the man whispered. The man quickly snapped his fingers and another man, using a blacksmith’s hammer, started to smash up all the tubs.
“Boss!” the man who was smashing up the tubs shouted. “He was here. One tub is still wet so he shouldn’t be far.
“Alright,” said the other man, “lets inform the town of thus yella.” All the men storm out of the bathhouse and ride off on their horses.
I crawled backward giving me enough room to slither out of the crevice. I stood up and notice something. They took my blanket. I was hoping to use the blanket for tonight’s bitter cold. My only choice for today was to stroll into town looking for someone to help me even though they could easily kill me.
The town was about one mile away from the house I stayed at that night. From the hill I was standing on I could see it and a nearby stream. Before I walked into the town I filled up my canteen. After I took a swig of the dirty water I walked towards the town’s strip. I saw a saloon so decided to stop in for some whiskey.
“Excuse me, barkeep.” I clear my throat. “Can I have a shot of whiskey.”
The bartender didn’t say a word. He grabbed a bottle, a shot glass, and his gun and asked, “Why shouldn’t I kill you.”
I give him a little chuckle and say, “You can’t.” Then I drank my shot, punched the bartender in the face, fracturing his nose, and I rolled over the table. As I rolled over the table I grabbed the man’s gun and guarded myself with the bar table.
The men from earlier in the day busted open the door and without missing a beat the start shooting at me. They flipped over two tables and continued to shoot at me.
I lean over the table and shoot one man in the chest but one man was quick enough to clip me in the shoulder. The bullet didn’t really do critical damage to my health so I continued to fight for my life
It is still not finished