The Man in Black (A Western Tale)

The bell rang out through the dark, deserted town, echoing through the few wooden buildings with ease. The chime desperately sought to tell everyone possible about the figure striding towards the saloon, but alas, nobody was interested in the old bell’s ringing. Especially at this very late hour of the night.

And so the figure clad all in black like a living piece of darkness, moved purposefully through the dust road. When the bell rang quiet, only the sound of his spurs could be heard, the metal ringing gently with each step.

Clink.

Clink.

Clink.

Doors creaked when he neared. The flames in the fireplaces began to ebb on his approach. Battered wooden signs swung and rattled on worn out iron chains. The horses that were stabled whined and cried gently as he walked passed. His presence was so repulsive that even the dirt itself seemed to recoil under his feet.

Clink.

Clink.

Clink.

There was a dull thud that now accompanied the clinking of the spurs as his boots met the wood of the porch outside of the saloon. The wood, like the dirt before it, grumbled it’s dismay at having to be close to the mysterious man in black, creaking and groaning at his every step.

Thud. Clink.

Thud. Clink.

Thud. Clink.

The doors whined as they swung open, the old hinges struggling with yet another customer’s entry. A few lanterns just barely lit the interior, casting yet even more shadows in an already dark room. The dull yellow light splashed over the three men sat inside, revealing their tired, grubby faces. All three of them were just as miserable as each other, preferring the company of their tankards instead of the horrible alternative of human interaction.

They barely noticed him enter, not even bothering to turn their heads from the bar counter. They did however, all act at exactly the same time.

One of them, the tallest of them all, took off his beaten hat and gently lay it next to his drink. He was built like a stick, thin and wiry. His clothes practically hung off him, all baggy and loose.

One scratched his beard and slowly pushed his stool back. He was almost a polar opposite to the thinner one, with a large gut bulging from his waistband forcefully, threatening to pop the buttons off of his shirt.

The last one, the smallest, finished his ale and coughed to clear his throat. Where the other two were fat and thin, he was perfectly in the middle. He would have been quite unremarkable, if not for his short stature.

Then, they all rotated their heads over simultaneously, to look upon the new guest. A dead eyed gaze was set upon all of their faces, one of bored toleration.

“Hello.” The tall thin man said in a monotone voice. “We were wondering-”

“When you’d show.” The fat one said, completing his sentence in the same drab tone.

The figure stood motionless, his face hidden by his wide brimmed hat. After a few moments of tense consideration, he drew a small metal box from his pocket. Opening up with a practised ease, he took one of the rolled cigarettes and placed it comfortably to rest in between his lips. The match hissed as it gave birth to the small flickering flame, which illuminated only the lower part of his face, the rest was still gracefully sheltered by the hat.

A few greying hairs were dotted around his sharp jaw, but the most noticeable feature was a large scar which stretched from ear to ear, making him look as if he was constantly twisting his mouth into a grotesque smile.

Before they could see anything else, the flame had lit the cigarette and he had tossed it aside lazily, once again, plunging his face into darkness. Smoke curled into the air around him like a old friend and with every puff he took, the sickening scar was briefly illuminated again.

Silence reigned absolute in those next few moments, neither party so much as breathing. The wind seemed to be able to tell that the conversation demanded sincerity and so it politely stopped it’s whistling and howling, almost eager to hear what these strange individuals had to say.

The quiet was interrupted by the thin man, who began to speak. Once again, in the same, bored tone.

“He’s not here-”

“Incase you were wondering.” The fat man finished.

The man in black took another deep puff on his cigarette, exhaling the smoke out of his hidden nostrils. He drew a deep breath in and cocked his head to the side, his old bones giving a dull crack which echoed around the room.

“Where?” The man in black spoke, his voice as rough as gravel. It sounded like his throat was hoarse, spent, his vocal chords groaning as the words escaped him reluctantly.

The thin man took his glass from the bar and wet his pale lips on the liquid within, licking them clean afterwards with a flash of his tongue.

“You know we aren’t going to tell you, after all-”

“Everything comes at a price…and you haven’t paid.” The fat man added, in his drab, lifeless tone.

Another drag on the cigarette.

“I’ve paid plenty.” The man in black hissed, his words rasping from his mouth, thick with anger.

There was a significant pause as the mysterious men contemplated the words he had just uttered. It was as if they were all actors in a great play and he had suddenly, without warning, gone off script.

Then, the short man who, up to this point had been completely silent and unmoving cracked a smile. Immediately after, the other two began to laugh, although it was not a laugh like any other. It was a sharp, hollow, emotionless sound which existed out of duty, not happiness or joy. Their expressions remained completely blank, their mouths just opening and closing to let the sound escape.

As quickly as the laughter had started, it vanished instantly in a very eerie manner. This, after all, was not how laughter normally stopped. Laughter should ebb, the moment leaking into the past, to be remembered fondly, like an aging whiskey.

“Maybe-” The thin man started.

“You’re right. We can give you that much.” The fat one ended the sentence with a slight nod, so slight, that any ordinary person might have missed it.

The man in black was no ordinary person. Or even a person at all for that matter.

He slowly reached up and finished the last of his cigarette with a final deep inhale, savouring the acid smoke entering his lungs. With a deliberate flick, he cast it to the floor, crushing it under his boot with a slow twist of leather.

Scratch. Clink.

“Where is he?” He growled again, urgency and rage echoing with every syllable he spat out.

The shortest man carefully removed an old brass pocket watch from his coat and flipped the cover open with a gentle flick of his wrist. The watch looked like it had been thrown into a fierce river of stones, the surface covered in hundreds of scratches and nicks, it was a wonder the old thing worked at all.

The other two followed suit and produced very similar timepieces, all of brass, all decorated with an endless criss cross of damage. They both flicked open the covers with the same practiced ease of the short man.

“He’s at Arboretum-” The thin man said softly.

“Waiting for you.” The fat man finished calmly.

At with that final sentence, they all closed their pocket watches in unison, with a definitive click. There was a sudden burst of blinding yellow light that emanated from the three of them, blazing brightly with the brightness of a thousand suns. It was enough to make even the stubborn man in black raise a gloved hand to shield his eyes, even though they were still in the shade from the brim of his hat.

There was a loud rustle, a flapping of large wings and then suddenly, the radiant light died, disappearing in the blink of an eye. The man in black lowered his hand and looked at the bar, which was now utterly empty. Only the slight wobbling of the glasses on the tabletop showed that people had been stood there at all.

He stood there for a while, in that empty room all alone, watching the bar carefully. Eventually, the glasses halted their wobbling, the wind’s silence was broken and the ancient wooden planks began to creak in disgust again.

The man in black cast his cold gaze around once more and then left the decrepit saloon, his spurs ringing with every firm step.

Clink.

Clink.

Clink.