STRANGER IN TOWN
The saloon sign creaked in the chilly wind and Brad succumbed to its invitation. A dozen men fell silent as he entered and ordered a beer.
“Friends in town?” the barman asked.
“No, just passing through.”
“You expected somewhere?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Storm coming – we’ve got beds. You can get a bath at the barber next door.”
“Guess I could use one,” Brad laughed, drained his glass and went to get cleaned up.
As the door shut behind him, the barman said, “Right – who’s first?”
“I’ll have six, Todd,” said the Sheriff, “Best pies in the county.”
Friday Fictioneers' prompt this week was so bleak that it made me think of an empty town in the middle of nowhere, and as I know nothing about boxing, I let my mind wander. Hope you like what I came up with.
Thanks as ever to Rochelle for hosting FF on her blog https://rochellewisoff.com/ and to J Hardy Carroll for the pictorial prompt that inspired us this week.
My alternative thought was to write about the snow we have around our village in the south of England, but that would have involved me posting a picture of the massive bruise I acquired when walking 'off-piste' in search of my own photo opportunity - not a pretty sight! - so here's the photo I took when I'd picked myself up.
AND - for any of my readers who weren't brought up in England, or who have never encountered the wonders of theatrical melodrama, here's a clue to the story behind my story.