Western NovelsTHE SINPluvia, Feb. 4, 2021.
Chapter 1 $\quad$ A man
The sun beat down onto the barren red ground, radiating intense heat. The air smelled of burned wood and smoke, a choking odour. The sky was still; no cooling winds, hot and dry like a desert. Cracks slithered for hundreds of miles, splitting the waste land into uneven chunks. Nothing grew between the hardened rocks and sand, only some dried up sprouts here and there.
No trees were visible to the naked eye, and no shade either. Just bare terrain, which went dully on and on for miles. There were hardly any animals inhabiting this place, except for the deadly rattlesnakes, which posed a great threat to the people living here.
Men and women worked as bus drivers, or clerks in the only drug store. Most of the people couldn’t pay their taxes; others clung on only through borrowing money constantly. They lived in cramped sheds lining the horizon, each ten square metres at most. Insects usually crawled on the cracked walls and makeshift cots, leaving behind scratchy bites on the workers’ backs.
A strange newcomer appeared in town one Saturday. He wore old sagging trousers, but his denim shirt was obviously new, with sharp edges. The things that made people look at him twice, were the shining pistol hanging from his worn out belt, and the predatory glare from his beady black eyes, which was like a warning sign s to others. He had a crooked nose and a beard. He seemed young for the latter, which he had grown it into a spike, like a raven’s beak. There was an unnerving scar just by his left eye, a wound made by a sharp blade. Beside him was a skinny, unfed yellow horse, sickly by appearance. It wobbled unsteadily when the man climbed on its bony body, but trotted fine.
He went into the pub, where strong muscular men often gathered for a drink,men not unlike himself. But he walked in; there was not a single hint of fear in his eyes.
A fat man placed himself by the newcomer, his face glowing red.
‘Horse’s yours, ain’t it funny?’ He spat on the cement floor, pointing at the horse outside. ‘Ugliest I’ve ever seen!’
The newcomer growled, ‘Ain’t funny I’m tellin’ ya. Fella last joked of it; I shot him through the stomach. This,’ he pointed at the scar, ‘was made in the fight.’
The fat man gulped. He changed the topic quickly, ‘Why comin’ to this place? Work?’
‘Nah.’ The newcomer narrowed his piercing eyes, ‘just visitin’ m’ folks.’
‘Wanna lift?’
‘Nah.’ He replied again, ‘better be goin’, soon it’ll be sundown.’
He climbed upon the ugly horse, whipping it hard, and disappeared into the afternoon light.
He arrived at the farthest shed, a small one with only barely enough room to hold a family of five. The slanting wooden door was shut, and plaster and paint cracked on the walls, showing the stacked red bricks within. The stone well was almost dried up, abandoning insects and plants that used to thrive in the water. The glass on the windows was cracked.
‘Ma! Pa! I’m home!’ he called out, but no voices answered him. He shouted once more. Still, no answers. He tried pulling the door open, but it was no use. The house had already been abandoned. He then spotted a tattered parchment in dandelion yellow.
‘*Moving out because of money problems!*’ He read through clenched teeth. He sought for years and finally found where his parents had lived, but his whole family had moved to god knows where. Now how could he reunite with his family? He did not know.
He galloped away in the settling darkness, the horse whinnying.