[Fiction Out West]
A mining town, among others, had been shut down the longest. Long before the mines closed, and all the towns followed. As the story goes; one night, a 10-year-old boy walks into a bar looking for his barmaid mom, and amid some bruhaha, he's accidentally shot dead. Enraged and unwilling to settle down, she's also shot dead by the same gunman--but her's was an act of murder. In his dark attire, he rides off and is never seen again. An odd thing occurred for ten years, there were gunfights, but no deaths since the boy and mom, and as they went on their way never to be seen again, plenty wondered but brushed it off as even-steven since there was peace after every incident--until they learned that they were 'god-awful' wrong.
*The opener of My Ghost Stories in my Short Stories, "Originally TITLED: Surreality"
I promise not to take the Mickey as far as I know
After all you maybe a John or Jane Doe
Of course you could be Uncle Sam in the USA
Possibly John Bull living here in the UK
Bob's your uncle if I took the Mickey out of you
Going even Steven would certainly not be true
Peeping Toms would check up on me
Robbing Peter to pay Paul as you can see
All this poetry work makes Jack a dull boy
Never take the Mickey its for you to enjoy
Read it and you will have the life of Riley
I guarantee a tear and perhaps even a smiley
Vendors ready,
About an hour til start,
Year plus of prep,
It's no walk in the park
Creative drive in full speed,
Every situation plants a seed,
Networking channel in high demand,
Without it small guys fall in quick sand
Alive with the childhood glow
Proud of their fleets, it's shows,
Displays plotted to attract consumers
One showcase highlights Honeymooners,
The goal is to break even,
No instructions, just play the game Steven..
There are many bonds which hold us together
Maybe it was our essence could it possibly be the weather
Your presence on my over so wintry heart
Inform me of the fact that we will never part
I was a victim when we had first met
A bright, beautiful, and joyous day I can’t forget
If you were made a number you’d be a hundred and ten
Perfect in every aspect from your walk to your comely grin
Everything between us is always “Equal Pasqual and Even Steven”
The greatest, sincere, and most loved out of all the women
You were my ray of sunlight in this dreadful dark forest
You, the only tree of love I climbed up and stayed on top I fell off the rest
My heart has reserved a front seat because you’re the best yet
So whenever you feel the need to get away from things I’m your outlet
You were my escape when I wanted to be unstressed and free
Baby you may only have a portion scientifically but you got all of me
If I ever get to talk to you ever again beloved I wouldn’t know where to began
Just know this though I veritably Love You “Gentle Woman”
i could use your snort-like laugh on really odd days
even capture thoughts of myself when I’m imperfect. . . and not
i might venture to mimic my own energy for the love you give away
might even try to write a longer line. . . than the one above. . . nope. . . pretty much your
smile
wild-mile-wide
keeps all things in a picture you never seem to be in
i could use your dust on those rose-color glasses that you take off the shelf
just to see rust disappear
souls and steel don’t mind much for that kind of erosion
you suck, in your choices sometimes. . . we all do
“even-steven”
i could perhaps borrow your tickled distraction of the world
for those times when weight exceeds my plea to. . . wait
the walkers and rushers here. . . do so with heads down
i could use you more around
me
i could use
you
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