The following short story was written with Harvey Weinstein, Donald Trump and all the trigger-happy, so-called women-loving cowboys of this world in mind.
Whistling tunelessly, a sole figure rides east on an open plain.
His mind roams unfettered over soft curves and moist folds.
Galloping across that formless plain he spots a cloud of dust.
It swirls and grows, hastening westward in the treeless waste.
Abruptly it turns, speeds up and heads unswervingly his way.
Alert amid that endless expanse, the rider ceases to whistle.
Pushing up in the stirrups he shields his eyes from the rising sun.
Little after dawn and already dried grasses rustle in the breeze.
Taking on human form, the pounding of hooves reaches his ears.
The on-coming rider looms ever larger urging its horse to a gallop.
Still in the saddle, his hand shifts to his holster and readies his gun.
That there is a threat leaves no doubt. This stranger wishes him ill.
There can only be one solitary rider in those plains and it’s him.
An arm raised in menace, an outstretched hand pointing his way.
He draws fast, his arm poised, takes aim and fires. A single shot.
The recoil flings him back as a short, sharp detonation rings out.
A gasp of in-drawn breath replies to the imperious bark of his gun.
The figure flies from its horse, arcs upwards then falls with a thud.
Amid swathes of cloth lie the soft curves that peopled his dreams.
Sliding his gun into its holster, he stares bemused at the lifeless form.
The unarmed woman‘s eyes stare back, one hand raised in a wave.
He dismounts, running excited fingers along the curve of her cheek.
Her skin is soft and milky. The curls of her flaxen hair stir in the breeze.
Death has not yet frozen her beauty. She could almost be asleep.
Like admiring a picture, he scans the veiled curves that arose him so.
Wings flap close to his head and outstretched claws whistle by his ear.
Responding to a silent summons, birds of prey circle impatient above.
Her mount has fled, already little more than a cloud in the distance.
He clambers up into the saddle, turns his horse aside and plods away.
Hesitant hooves follow the trail, then he urges his horse into a gallop.
Whistling tunelessly, a sole cowboy rides east on an open plain.