Bill Denbrough (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
shipsandsealingwax) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou2017-12-17 02:38 pm
shipsandsealingwax) wrote in thisavrou2017-12-17 02:38 pm
Text: Tall Tales
[As much as Bill would love to be able to share his stories verbally, it's just not feasible or particularly good for his self esteem to ask the rest of the station to be patient with his stuttering like his friends are. Maybe someday he'll work up to it. If he practices, it'll be like giving a speech, and his speech therapist had always told him he did better with those.
But Bill lives to write stories, and laid up as he is with a broken wrist, he thinks maybe people will appreciate a little distraction. He'll start with something short and easy, just an edited re-telling, instead of an original work. He'll get to those.]
It's time to turn back the clock, to the wild and untamed west of old as the rapid clamor of hoof-beats kicks up a dusty trail along the horizon. We catch up to our heroes, the Loners: four brothers, not in blood but in something thicker and truer than any familial bond, brothers in a mission to rid the wild west of the harrowing scourge that sets upon it. Our heroes are riding hard with the devil on their heels, on the run from the brutish and bloodthirsty outlaws: the Bowers gang.
Gunfire cracks the quiet dawn sharper than the crow of any rooster, a dozen cracks of thunder or more, the Bowers gang hot on the heels of the brothers. William kicks hard with his spurs, urging his silver mare onward harder with a sharp whistle and a shout.
"Up through the pass, boys, we'll catch them on a runaround." A bullet whizzes past his ear, clipping a scratch across his temple, and he sets his teeth with firm resolve. Dick urges his horse up to pace with William's, firing over his shoulder with one hand on the reins, the wildest and most reckless of the gang, quick with his tongue and his trigger finger. "Say, ol' Willy boy, I reckon we can lose them on the cliffs. That cur Hank Bowers is really rarin' for a scuff. Whaddya say we give 'em what for once and for all?" He threw his head back with a raucous yeehaw and fired off every round in his pistol, a ruckus of shouts and curses echoing off the pass walls from behind them.
"You're deader than buzzard food, Loners." Came the snarled shout from Coyote Hank, head of the ruthless Bowers gang. He sounded out for blood, and well he would be, with a bullet in his leg and his latest hustle plum wrecked by the Loners.
"We can get well ahead them in the pass, their horses are skittish things." A somber voice speaks up from William's right, calculating eyes assessing the narrow path they're cantering through, earning a nod from William. Quick-Gun Stan was the man with the plan as ever, a head of sense on his shoulders.
"Look Out!" came a sharp shout and a thundering gallop. Edward, the fourth of the brothers, leaning hard into his stallion and kicking him into a faster gallop. Without an explanation he cut off Dick and pulled hard on the reigns of William's horse, all four horses coming to a hard, rough stop of chaos, just as the deafening noise of the rockslide sounded, and boulders came crashing down into the path ahead of them, blocking the pass and trapping the Loners between a rock and a hard place.
Will Coyote Hank and his gang bring them to a bloody end? Has someone put a spoke in their wheel? Will Dick get them into more trouble shooting his mouth off? What will our heroes do now?
Tune in next time to find out.
But Bill lives to write stories, and laid up as he is with a broken wrist, he thinks maybe people will appreciate a little distraction. He'll start with something short and easy, just an edited re-telling, instead of an original work. He'll get to those.]
It's time to turn back the clock, to the wild and untamed west of old as the rapid clamor of hoof-beats kicks up a dusty trail along the horizon. We catch up to our heroes, the Loners: four brothers, not in blood but in something thicker and truer than any familial bond, brothers in a mission to rid the wild west of the harrowing scourge that sets upon it. Our heroes are riding hard with the devil on their heels, on the run from the brutish and bloodthirsty outlaws: the Bowers gang.
Gunfire cracks the quiet dawn sharper than the crow of any rooster, a dozen cracks of thunder or more, the Bowers gang hot on the heels of the brothers. William kicks hard with his spurs, urging his silver mare onward harder with a sharp whistle and a shout.
"Up through the pass, boys, we'll catch them on a runaround." A bullet whizzes past his ear, clipping a scratch across his temple, and he sets his teeth with firm resolve. Dick urges his horse up to pace with William's, firing over his shoulder with one hand on the reins, the wildest and most reckless of the gang, quick with his tongue and his trigger finger. "Say, ol' Willy boy, I reckon we can lose them on the cliffs. That cur Hank Bowers is really rarin' for a scuff. Whaddya say we give 'em what for once and for all?" He threw his head back with a raucous yeehaw and fired off every round in his pistol, a ruckus of shouts and curses echoing off the pass walls from behind them.
"You're deader than buzzard food, Loners." Came the snarled shout from Coyote Hank, head of the ruthless Bowers gang. He sounded out for blood, and well he would be, with a bullet in his leg and his latest hustle plum wrecked by the Loners.
"We can get well ahead them in the pass, their horses are skittish things." A somber voice speaks up from William's right, calculating eyes assessing the narrow path they're cantering through, earning a nod from William. Quick-Gun Stan was the man with the plan as ever, a head of sense on his shoulders.
"Look Out!" came a sharp shout and a thundering gallop. Edward, the fourth of the brothers, leaning hard into his stallion and kicking him into a faster gallop. Without an explanation he cut off Dick and pulled hard on the reigns of William's horse, all four horses coming to a hard, rough stop of chaos, just as the deafening noise of the rockslide sounded, and boulders came crashing down into the path ahead of them, blocking the pass and trapping the Loners between a rock and a hard place.
Will Coyote Hank and his gang bring them to a bloody end? Has someone put a spoke in their wheel? Will Dick get them into more trouble shooting his mouth off? What will our heroes do now?
Tune in next time to find out.
no subject
And I will. Thank you for the drawings.
My name is Bill. What's yours?