Special thanks to @mctiller
For more information about this contest visit:
@mctiller/writers-win-5-steem-twenty-four-hour-short-story-contest-july-31-a-cowboy-during-the-1800s-in-the-american-west-runs-into-a
My entry:
Lucky Aces, a name that struck fear in poker players around the Wild West, now felt that fear with his hands clawing the side of a cliff. He stopped his fall in time to witness his horse hitting the ground another 1,000 feet down.
He hung in the air about 200 feet from where he needed to be in order to live that day. He would need to pray to God, something he hadn’t done in years, if someone were to find him in this remote place.
And what in God’s name had gotten him into this awful mess to begin with. Knowing that would be worth a fortune in gold. That’s why he had chased it through the chaparral. It must have been bout four or five feet off the ground, and it moved quicker than a rattlesnake, darting right or left. Only it had a shine to it like a nickel.
And then it just flew off this cliff like a bird. If he’d known there’d be a 1,200 foot drop off he’d a never pushed his horse to keep going. Only he didn’t think that thing could fly like that. And now it sat there in the clouds watching him; just a silver speck in the lining of those white fluffy clouds.
“God damn it.” Lucky Aces cried, as the thought of those white soft clouds catching him like a goose feathered pillow filled his mind. Only instead of him, the man who needed it to save his life, those comfortable clouds made a bed for that bastard who’d created this situation.
“Hello!” Someone yelled.
“Down here! I’m down here! Can ya hear me?” Lucky Aces bellowed like a drunken man clinging to the Earth as to not fall off.
“Yeah, where are you?”
“Down here, on the side of this damn cliff. Going to need some rope to get back up there!” Lucky Aces looked up at the edge of the cliff not seeing anyone. He then looked 1,000 feet down at the blood splatter of his horse, and murmured to himself, “sweet Jesus . . .”
“There you are!” The young man’s voice announced.
Lucky Aces looked up at a long haired injun staring down at him. He didn’t like redskins much at all, and in a hand like this he felt adrift with a two of spades and a seven of clubs. He did his best to smile.
“How’d you get down there?” The Native American asked.
“Well . . . just throw me a rope will ya. We can talk about it later.”
“You were chasing that Thunderbird Lucky Aces. Afraid I might get some reward money if I knew what you’d discovered.” The Native American said and began laughing.
“Do I know you?” Lucky Aces had played a lot of poker and drank a lot of whiskey. He could never be sure of who he knew or didn’t know.
“No, you kept calling my sister Pocahontas one night and made her cry. She lost her job as a waitress at the salon because of it.” The Native American said and began throwing pebbles down at Lucky Aces.
“Sorry, must have been drinking. I’ve got some money saved up in the bank. If we get back to town alright I’ll make it worth your while. Promise. Just throw a rope down here and pull me up.”
“Don’t have a rope. It’s just me. There’s really nothing I can do. Even if I went to town and came back with an entire posse you’d probably have fallen down the cliff by then.”
“It’s worth a try . . .”
“Well, maybe your luck hasn’t run out yet Lucky Aces.” The Native American laughed, and then gave a loud whistle before turning around and walking away.
“Hey, where you going! Help me!” Lucky Aces yelled out. He held on to the rock as long as he could. His arms began to get tired, and then he fell two or three feet before landing on top of the Thunderbird’s hard surface. He got on all fours, crawling around on the smooth metal with gold fever.
333
It seemed a lifetime had passed since Lucky Aces nearly lost his life. In that time, he wished he had stayed on his horse all the way to the bottom of the cliff. For what holy hell that injun wished upon him could never be forgiven in this lifetime. Stabbed, probed, tested like some bug under a glass. Once again under the great white light. Once again the large black eyes in that mushy green skin looking at his naked body twitch with the push of a button.
“Mother of God, if only I hadn’t of seen this here Thunderbird in the chaparral that day . . .” And Lucky Aces sobbed uncontrollably.
Thank you,
Cyrus Emerson
Red Roses the audiobook for your consideration at the Voice Arts Awards (NYC), and the Grammys (LA).
https://www.audible.com/pd/Fiction/Red-Roses-Audiobook/B07F2LWHPN
Red Roses narrated by Kira Omans
www.kiraomans.com
Red Roses music by Rike Luxx
www.rikeluxxbeats.com
Red Roses sound by Pond5
www.pond5.com
Also, available from The Author:
Fear and Loathing in the State of Jefferson - ebook
https://read.amazon.com/kp/embed?asin=B079R5KLPN&preview=newtab&linkCode=kpe&ref_=cm_sw_r_kb_dp_GsURAbAVDYNEM
Lost Angel – Introduction with Ray Manzarek of The Doors
https://www.downpour.com/lost-angel?sp=249812