How Hours of Quick Drawing Practice Did Me No Good

Got my boots on.
Got on my belt with my holsters.
Now where are my guns….ohh yes.
Found them, right next to the picture of my dead father.
Staring at that picture reminds me of my mission.
My mission to kill the man who ended his life.
The clock says its ten till…means its time to go out for revenge.
Revenge, revenge, revenge..the only thing that’s constant in my head.
These empty bottles of fire water helped to numb me some last night.
But still there is this thirst for revenge.

There he is, standing about ten feet in front of me.
Grinning like he owns the place.
My heart is beating, anxious to destroy his existence.
The dry ground underneath us foreshadows one of our lives.
With everything I have ill make sure its his.
We stare at each other, waiting to see who makes the first move.
Everyone is still, I could of sworn I saw a tumble weed roll by.
Then I reach!



I can’t believe this…I thought I was quicker….
I move my hand from my chest, revealing my own blood
He killed my father and now me…
As I lay there, he walks over and stands above me.
I smile up at him and with my last dying words I say…
Ill hunt you from my grave……


One Response to “How Hours of Quick Drawing Practice Did Me No Good”

  1. Sonya Says:

    Hey Johnny. I like it! I enjoyed the ones below as well! You get better each time! When are you going to start submitting??? I’m waiting!

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