The "Outlaw" character sketch

12/11/2017

Study the image of the character below and write a sketch describing the events that lead up to his final minutes just prior to his hanging. Try to write at least one page...more or less. All you know is that he is about to be hanged! Post your sketch as a comment. I suggest working in a google doc then posting your final edited version. DUE FRIDAY 12/15

20 Comments

Rachel Ramont

12/12/2017 02:42:02 pm

This cowboy was a man of grit and the second amendment. He had his rights and anything anyone did to threaten them was taken very seriously. He was a man to “tell it how it is”. He flew the american and confederate flags with pride on his farm and carried his pistol with him on his hip. He displayed his red bandanna around his neck which rubbed against his scraggly ungroomed facial hair. His matching hair atop his head was covered by his black cowboy hat that hardly ever came off, except for when meeting a nice young gal. This man had a filthy grit to him that got him into more trouble than he could ever handle.
This cowboy went by the name of Hank. Hank was a man living out west in a small town where everyone knew everything about one another. There was only one road in town that held all the local businesses. The businesses included a bank, a trading post, a bar and multiple hitching posts. All the men in this town owned a horse, a gun, property of some sort and were all after the young ladies. There was one thing that wasn’t the same about a few men in particular though. There were two last names that didn’t exactly align here, the Williams and the Jones. The history of the hate between the families goes back about a hundred years. The dispute over land ended in one old man in the Williams family dead and left the rest of the family in an uproar. The old man that was killed happened to be Hanks great grandpa. This underlying hatred was difficult for Hank to overcome and control when the Jones youngest son, Billy, moved into the vacant property right next to Hank’s ten acre lot.
Hank had lots of livestock including hens, cows, pigs and sheep. He relied greatly on them for trading, which created a lifestyle for him. Hank was a single man with a big head on his shoulders. He was fearless. One night though this all changed in the blink of an eye. Hank kept his cows free range in an enclosed pen about 5 acres wide. This met right up to Billy’s property. Hank suddenly heard the horses making noises furiously in a worried manner one night. He strolled out to the barn and on his way there, he got a weird feeling in his gut, something wasn’t right. As he looked around, his eyes locked on the still dead cow in the middle of the field. He didn’t waste a second of time to evaluate the cow or think twice about who could have completed the task. Hank marched straight to Billy’s and started to shoot at the house before he was even at the front door. Hank had enough accuracy in his aim he could hit his target with both eyes shut. Hank could hear shouting in the near distance, but that wasn’t going to stop him. Hank saw a quick glimpse of Billy through a window and within seconds Hank had nailed his target.
What many citizens of this small town didn’t know about Williams was that this wasn’t the first person he had murdered. Hank was a criminal on the run. He had stole money the night before from the bank and planned on escaping the town the night he shot Billy. The cops were already on the hunt for him. By shooting Billy, he gave the cops enough time to find him trembling in the front yard with a pistol in his hand. The cops didn’t squander any time. The next place they had Mr. Williams was in the center of town being prepared to be hanged. Even up to the seconds before being hanged, he was still the grittiest, feistiest and untamed man of the wild west.

Jasmine Cooper

12/13/2017 04:58:31 am

Dystopian southern-gothic:
The wounded were high in number and the dead nearly double that. After the sickness had swept the countryside, little were left to escape its wake, and those who did escape didn’t stop to tend to the sick. After the surge of sickness, death plagued the land only to be followed by unrest, which in turn caused an outbreak of ransacking and feuds, more gunshots were heard than those of a war. Neighbor turned on neighbor, brother against brother. Days ticked by, followed by weeks, followed by months, time seemed unrelenting and unwilling to slow for the sick to recover. Those who survived remained together, muttering promises and feeding on what was left of those who had passed, taking their homes and supplies.
Rumor had it this was a punishment from the gods above, a strike for their impatience and unrelenting nature, but when word got around that a stranger waltzed through the streets, unscathed, healthy as could be, a new suspicion arose. The sheriff, a once honorable man, overcome with the grief of the loss of his wife, had turned quickly to blame the rumoured man. His presence alone was unriveting, surely no man could walk through this unharmed, unless of course it was his own doing-that of course being his own thought. They’d questioned one another, desperate to place the blame, as if blame, a label, could ease their punishment. As the hours ticked by, the news of the man had spread, leaving an eerie still over the nearly ransacked town.
Wind billowed in the surrounding area, the trees howling in its current, allowing a land of shadow to envelop the small town square. Cornered, they had thought as they gathered, prepared to trap the rumored male. The town square was now full of chairman, townsmen, butchers, blacksmith and at the head rested the sheriff. His eyes hollow and worn, empty as they met that of the surrounded man. The man, standing on unsteady feet, doused in gowns of tanned garments and a hot atop his head, met the Sheriff’s gaze, his mouth moving, uttering a few silent please, questions even. None of which were answered, instead only they were matched with a series of rigid coughs, beckoning a black ooze from the Sheriff’s lips, similar to those who stood around the entity of a man within the center. Their bodies contorted with each move and their lips were lined with the black death which tainted their breath.
Taking a step forward, the townsmen circled around the unfamiliar face, their posture hollow and clinging to the bone beneath their skin. Outmatched, despite their emaciated look, the male was overcome by the sheer number of people, easily thrown to the ground and tied as if he were an animal. Treated as if he were an animal as well, prodded with hungry fingers, cut at the skin where harsh hands foiled deeply to receive their prize, the undoing of their suffering they had been promised if he were to fall. His pleas went unheard, unrecognized as he was dragged towards the center of the formerly glorious town.
Begging did him no good, he’d tried to reason with them, urged them that he had the key, that he could help, but they did not listen. As he was placed upon the low standing pedestal, fear flashed over his face. It was a mistake to come here, he’d realized, those of the north were right. It was a wasteland, ready to burn. His cries ran unanswered.
“I’m a doctor! I can help!” he had pleaded, the weight placed upon his shoulders drowning out his cries as the people below watched with a lustful gaze. But it was in that one final fleeting moment he had realized that these people, were not people at all, and it was his own undoing for coming here in aid. For it had been a trap, a wistful move of the plagued beneath him, and surely he hadn’t been the first, but with the snap of a lever, he was certain he wouldn’t be the last.

Becca Blower

12/13/2017 05:37:14 am

The small town was completing their daily maneuvers, when a strange, unknown man appeared in the town saloon. He walked tall, and proud with his black, like coal, hat covering his eyes. The strange man walked through the saloon with a sonorous attitude. People around him began whispering in a quiet manner. They all were wondering the same question I was, who is this man? He moved swiftly, to the counter and slammed his body down in the chair. The man looked up, into my young curious eyes and demanded for a drink.
“Sir,” I began.
“Get on with it!” he demanded, like he has been coming into this saloon since he was a child. He acted like royalty, and wanted me to command with a snap. I went on with it, my head filled with curiosity, wondering who this man thought he was.
“Here.” I gave him his drink, the only one I knew how to make, the one he forcefully demanded. That was when I noticed those jellyfish blue eyes, eyes one could not forget. In that moment, I knew I was serving a cold blood killer. The cold blood killer that drifts from town to town, never coming back after he completes his task. Yet, the man came back to our decrepit town.
My father, the sheriff of the town sat across the room. I gave him looks of worry, hopping he would sense the message. When he didn’t sense the message, I made up a couple drinks and walked over acting like I was serving them. I turned to my father, and leaned in close, “Sir, we have company.”
“What?” he mumbled back in cacophony.
A man sitting across from my father took the message I was sending and looked over to the counter, “Graham.”
My father and this man got up in a instinct, as if they’ve done it a million times before, walking over to the wanted man.
Graham just stood there, with a smirk on his face. “I take it you know who I am?” he said in a cocky tone.
“Why yes I do, Graham. You’ve already done enough damage here, why are you back?”
“I decided to come give you a visit,” he swayed his hand back, resting it on his gun.
“Is that how it’s going to be?” My fathers voice raised with each word he said, getting everyone’s attention, sending them a warning to leave. A few got up and left, not wanting apart of it, while a few got up and stood behind my father. I knew from previous battles, that this is the time my father wants me to leave, to keep me safe.
Graham knowing he was outnumbered, he pulled his gun and shot. Missing my father by a hair, and hitting the man behind him in the shoulder. In an instant, the fight was out the door. With me safely following behind, arriving and hiding behind a wagon.
They Sprawled out into the street and the fight began. Graham was a good shot, but my father was better. The battle went on, back and forth, with dodging left and right, until my father gained control. He managed to get the gun out of his hand, I’m not too sure how, for they were fighting at lighting speed. My father gained control and forcefully took him in the direction of the station.
I slowly followed, my curious mind wanted to watch what was exactly going on. For tomorrow, maybe even tonight, this would be the talk of the town. My father forcefully walked him over to the gallow, were he will be punished for all the sins he has committed. A crowd began to form around the gallow, just waiting for Graham to take his place. A group of men, including my father stood on the platform with Graham. One man placed the noose around his neck. The other was reading a list of his sins. While my father had his hand gripped onto the lever, ready to make the floor give away.
“Any last words?” my father said right as he pulled the lever. The floor gave away and the wanted man fell through the hole. For he had been punished for all the sins he committed across the lands.
For we were safe, until the next one came along.

Isaac Cameron

12/13/2017 05:46:07 am

This outlaw goes by the name of John. John was born into a family of nine and was outcasted from the family for having evil tendencies. He was kicked out of his parent’s home and forced to live on his own at the age of twelve. At the time the only thing he knew was crime. He got his first pistol by killing the marshall of the nearby town leaving the rest of the people in fear. After he got his first pistol he killed a total of ten people who had higher authority than the general population in that same town. He then robbed the entire town including general stores,bars, the bank and the armory. He was loaded with guns,cash and liquor. He stole a horse to carry the loot he got from the town. This cowboy didn’t see another day sober which was the downfall of him. Everyday he would leave something behind in a town whether it be cash, liquor or even guns and ammo.
John would ride his horse and continue his spree until he ran across the Mexican border. While down in Mexico he found the demand for drugs was very high and came with a high price tag, so John talked to one of the supplier’s recruiters and claimed to be a very rich man from the United States of America. So the recruiter set up a meet with the supplier and John at sundown. So John being the sneaky man he was prepared himself with a stick of dynamite stuck down his pants, a booklet of matches taped to his inner thigh, and a pistol hidden inside an inner pocket of his coat. But John knew they would be searching him so he kept a pistol visible on his side and a repeater strapped to his back.
John waited around the small town in Mexico till the sun was down and everyone was in their house. John went to the spot where he met the recruiter then watched this very tall,bulky man walk out of the barn right in front of the recruiter. The man signaled the recruiter over to him and a small amount of whispers came from the two men. The man starts to walk towards the barn door and the recruiter signals John to come closer. John runs up to the door and is immediately stopped by the recruiter. The recruiter points at John’s guns. John takes the repeater and the pistol on his side off and set them on the side of the barn leaning against the wall. The man is sitting patiently at a table in the middle of the barn with a briefcase sitting on the table waiting for John to take a seat. John steps inside the barn and the recruiter picks up the repeater and proceeds to point it at John. John acknowledges the recruiter and has his hands up. The man asked for a price and how much he wanted.
John says “$400 worth.” The man pulls out three more briefcases and set them on top of each other. John reaches in his pocket for the wallet but feels the pistol sitting in the same pocket as his wallet. John whips out his pistol and blasts off the first shot off the bulky man’s brain. The bulky man dropped and John hit the floor allowing the recruiter to miss and John proceeds to shoot the recruiter five of the six shots leaving the revolver empty. John then takes the four briefcases and sets them outside away from the barn. John grabs his gun from the recruiter’s cold hands and straps it back onto his back and picks up the pistol he left against the wall. John grabs the two men and set them up in the chair and pulls out the stick of dynamite and the book of matches strapped to his leg. John lights the fuse and sets it in the middle of the table he then calls for his horse and proceeds his way back to America. John travels till he hits the capital of what now is Texas and proceeds into town. John with four cases of drugs and four guns goes into the general store to find some buyers for the drugs he has stolen. Little does John know he was being watched by some State Marshals from Mexico who have informed the marshals chasing him into Mexico. They have now traced him back to the town he was currently in.
“That’s him that’s the man that blew up Del Rio” the marshals exclaimed. John without hesitation pulls out his guns but everyone in town pulls one and aims there guns right at him. John lowers his guns and is put into custody by the Marshals.

Madison Wheelock

12/13/2017 05:53:09 am

The snow was falling. Unusual to this place it was always warm and sunny but tonight It was falling down and the air was cold. The whole town was there for this so called event. There where people putting up the rope on the hanging tree. Watching from where he was tied was the man that was to be hanged. He watched them set it up. Surprisingly this wasn’t his fault. He was always seen as the towns bad man, the outlaw. Little did they know he was married and had two children at the home he had just outside of town. He watched as the women he loved came to where he was and looked at him with a sad smile. This was her fault. He wasn’t the murder. It was her! The evil witch, she killed all those men found in his shed. He glared at her.

“ Oh my love, you will be fine death for you means a happy life for your children and Myself” The women whispered to him with a smirk on her lips.

“ You shall pay for what you have done!” Shouted the man.

The women just smirked more and turned letting it fall as she walked away from him pretending to cry and call him vile and mean to the other men and women. The man let his head fall forward and he sighed saying a little prayer for his life. He wasn’t bad as people say. He was a good father. He paid for what he owns. Just because he has lots of gold and is rugged in looks doesn’t mean anything. If the towns people got to know him they would know that he is kind.

The sharif who caught him walked over and yanked him up. “ The time is now “ He said with smirk. “ You shall die for killing those other men!” He shouted and many people hollered in agreement. He pulled him to the tree and stood him up and tied the rope around his neck. He looked into the crowd as his wife watched him with a smirk. He would die for her crimes. He watched the men host him up on the stool. He took in his last breath as the stool was removed and all he saw was her smirk.

Anna Steele

12/13/2017 11:26:12 am

Bang! The sound of a gun and gunpowder slowly filled the air. I started to sprint out of the bank with the leather bag held tightly in my hands. My gun was in my holster and as I was running my hand kept on going down to my side ready to use it. The banker was chasing after me, but I was too fast to catch. I ran for about 10 min until I got to my hide out safely. I took off my bandana and sat down. I looked over at the leather bag and a smile grew on my face. I opened up the bag and started to count. I counted $100,000. This was my best steal yet. I started to think about what I could do with all of this money, but my thoughts were interrupted with a gunshot. I looked outside of my window to see the sheriff coming towards my hid out. I quickly hid the money and then found a hiding place for myself. I watched anxiously as the sheriff walked by my hid out. I heard the sheriff leave and a big sigh of relief fell over me. I came out of my hiding spot and went to grab the money.
A few weeks later I ran out of money. I was planning on running away and going on to another town, so I needed more money for a train ticket. I grabbed my bandana and leather bag and went to the bank. I went into the bank, and as I looked around I noticed that nobody was there, so I started to do what I normally do and started to take money. As I was leaving the sheriff was standing outside the bank. I quickly put the money under my shirt and walked casually to my hid out, making sure no one was following me. I thought I wasn’t being suspicious, but the next thing I know i’m being taken down to the sheriff’s station for robbery. I was going to be hung the next morning at 8 exactly.
The next morning I was woken up by the sheriff.
“Vermont” He exclaimed his voice filled with no remorse,”it’s hanging time.”
I slowly got up at walked with my hands tied around my back, and my head held high with my red bandana and cowboy hat still dusty from the night before. I looked up to see a crowd of people standing around a old brown wooden pole. Tied around the pole was a rope that looked like it used to be white. Not putting my head down I looked at my shoes and noticed the chip in the front toe that remind me of the little chip in the sheriff’s tooth. As I was on the horse all tied up with the rope burning against my ungroomed facial hair, the mayor listed all of the crimes I had done. On the shot of the gun the horse ran out from underneath me and not putting my head down I stayed there. I would rather be killed a thief then live a coward.

Emily Cummings

12/14/2017 05:28:19 am

The man sat in the cell at the end of the hallway, not wanting to be where he was. He would give anything to see the green fields rolling around his barn again, but that wasn’t going to happen. He muttered curses, the guard on the other side of the door paying him no attention. They didn’t understand that they had the wrong man. For Austin, the waiting was the worst part, because he knew he was innocent. He begged the guard to let him go, but his pleas fell on deaf ears as the guard stood silent and somber, barely moving except to itch his nose.
He heard the footsteps approaching, and his eyes widened. It wasn’t time, It couldn’t be. But it was. The sheriff and his posse stood outside the cell, looking with hatred upon an innocent man. Their eyes glinted, hard and steely in the dim light of the jail. They opened the door, but Austin didn’t try to escape, just quietly let them tie his hands behind his back and lead him through the jail.
They stepped out into the sunlight, the harsh heat beating on the backs of the people gathered around the hangman’s noose. They looked at him the same way that the sheriff had, eyes cold and distant, burning with an icy rage despite the mid-July sun. Austin hung his head and walked up the stairs, standing on the platform that he knew wouldn’t be under his feet for much longer.
“D’ you have anything to say for yourself?” The sheriff asked, “Any last words?”
Austin took a deep breath, then hollered loud as he could, “Adam, I know you can hear me, you backstabbing brother! I’ll get you back for this if I have to haunt you for the rest of your life!”
“That all?” The sheriff asked, not in the least surprised at this outburst.
Austin nodded, and the tears gathering in his eyes threatened to spill with the motion. The sheriff motioned to his deputy, and the lever was pulled. The crowd cheered at having another so called “outlaw” dead, cheered for the fact that they could sleep easily tonight. Not worrying about being shot in the early hours of the morning when the moon didn’t shine and the roosters didn’t crow.
In the back of the crowd, a man leaned against the saloon. He smirked, knowing that the cheering wouldn’t last. Nothing would. Not even the bonds of brotherhood, much like the ones that he had just broken. His coal black eyes danced, remembering the blue eyes of the man hanging from the noose. His hair was the same, styled neatly, with only a few hairs succumbing to the humidity.
He watched as they pulled his brother off of the noose, carrying his body away to be buried in the cemetery. He turned away, thinking for a second that he might have made the wrong decision, but he shrugged his shoulders and walked to where his horse stood despite the thought. He was alive, and that was all that mattered anymore.

Haley Bajema

12/14/2017 05:30:18 am

This cowboy was one of the biggest leaders of the small town, his name was Jonas. Jonas made sure that trouble stayed out of his town at whatever cost, but trouble still managed to roll on in. He had a rivalry, in fact it was a whole gang. The leader of that gang was named Thomas, and he was determined to put Jonas in the ground. On the day of his death Jonas was walking around the town greeting anyone who passed him by. He may have looked all tough and scary on the outside, but if you got to know him, he really wasn’t all that bad.
In this small town everyone looked up to Jonas, he had saved them so many times from the gang known as “The Outlaws.” As Jonas was headed back to his farm he heard footsteps following him from behind. It was a dark quiet night, and most townsfolk had already head back home. Thomas was following, but he wasn’t close enough to see. Jonas hadn’t suspected a thing and he kept walking home. The sound of footsteps had stopped and Jonas had made his way to his front door. He had walked inside, a smirk on his face, once he thought about his role in that town. As he furthered his way into his house, a body was lying on the ground. Sure enough Jonas’ spare gun was lying right next to him, and it was clear what had been done. He had been framed by Thomas, he was finally getting his revenge.
Murder was greatly looked down upon in this town, and if you were to murder someone you would be hanged for it. Thomas must have secretly tipped the police off because sure enough they were knocking on Jonas’ door. They walked inside without further warning, Jonas had figured it was over and didn’t even put up a fight. The sheriff didn’t even say a word, because it was already written all over his face. Everyone who had walked inside had been shocked. They pushed and shoved Jonas outside until he was almost to his end. In the back of the crowd Jonas had managed to see Thomas and The Outlaws with pride on their faces, they had finally done it, and absolutely no one in that little town would ever have a clue. As Jonas arrived at his final minutes he knew that this town would soon meet its end. With Jonas gone who would protect it, surely not the sheriff, the only thing that made him sheriff was his badge, and nothing else. Thomas would have this whole town for his own ruling. Horror filled Jonas as this thought had settled with him, but he still had hope, maybe someone in this town would stand up and fight, and maybe The Outlaws would see their last day. That hope-filled thought was Jonas’ last thought, and moments later his life had been taken from him.

Avery Terpstra

12/14/2017 07:00:35 am

It was a cold, rainy day and the weather certainly reflected the day’s events. Droplets of sweat dripped down his face as he stood on the gallows. This was the day John Helms would be hanged. His family was amongst the citizens watching and waiting. There was nothing but shame on his wife's face. His child, on the other hand, look completely and utterly despairing. His wife wouldn’t look him in the eyes. In the exact moment he was standing up there alone waiting for his own momentous execution, He wouldn’t even take anything back. That was the thing about stubborn, vain men, because what had been done was done, he forced himself to live with it. But really it’s more like die with it. He was a narcissistic man who was too self-righteous to even admit he’d done anything wrong, but oh he did. He was a murderer and the decision he made resulted in the mortality of not only an innocent person, whose life Helm took, but also his own. He deserved to die, but, oh, he wasn’t ready to die. Time was going by slower than ever, but all he really wanted was to get it over with. Every second was an hour and every second that goes by he saw his family turn to hate him more and more. I have no idea if the fact that i’m about to be hanged is more painful or the actuality that my own family no longer cares to see me go, he thought. He was distracted from the thoughts of his family by the noose swinging in the wind, right in front of his anxious, blameworthy face. Ghastly thoughts overcame him, what if the rope is too long and i’m decapitated? No. He sighed and tried to calm down by reassuring himself by remembering that they took his height and weight the prior day to assure everything was perfect and nothing would go wrong. What if the rope is too short, I could hang there suffocating for as much as 45 minutes. No. I already told you everything is measured, nothing will go wrong, He started talking to himself within the walls of his mind. He was sure he was going crazy. On the contrary, he can’t blame himself considering only a few minutes have gone by, but he had been sure he’d been up there for hours. He stood as far from the trap door, that would soon lead him to his death, as possible without falling off the appliance. The backs of his heels hung of the edges of the gallows. His attention was redirected towards the crowd of people. There were a number of people out there who were just eagre to see his struggling body swing back and forth, back and forth, until it’s limp and tranquil. Within the crowd he once again spotted his wife and son. He started questioning his son’s presence, why would she bring him? I don’t know, maybe because she hated you and wanted to show your son what a horrible father you were. That’s dreadful. He flinched, someone else had came onto the gallows. He turned around to see a rustic looking man holding the noose and a blindfold.
“Any last words, Helm?” He asked with remiss. John looked towards the man, with his intense blue eyes, and slowly shook his head. His wife's eyes began to fill with tears. The man shrugged and began to tie up the noose. He placed it over John’s head, and around his neck. The feeling of the frayed rope, brushing past his neck, sent shivers down his back. As the man was securing John’s legs and arms, he watch his wife hold his son tighter, in hopes of comforting him. The man began tying the blindfold around John’s eyes. His heart rate quickened and he was pushed onto the trap door. His wife covered his son’s eyes. Everything was absolutely silent.
“May God have mercy on your soul.” The man proclaimed. John heard the lever begin to creak. The trapdoor snapped open. His wife was left at her knees, with tears cascading down her face.

Megan Hirdes

12/14/2017 09:56:07 am

I ran through the dusty streets, my pockets full, men yelling behind me and guns going off. I peeled around the corner by the saloon and continued down the main faraway. Behind me, lights began to turn on inside the houses and stores as the men continued yelling. I could see them now, runnin’ past the saloon, guns pointed in my direction. I reached the water tower on the edge of town and I turned back to see the men even closer that they were before. Desolate landscape lay out before me and I knew my destination was quite a distance but I kept going. I could see the sunlight just beginning to stretch across the pale sky as a few coins fell onto the dusty landscape. The men behind me shot at random and continued their pursuit. I saw the old shack in the distance and forced my legs to continue through the screaming pain. My lungs, filled with dusty air, begged for relief but I refused. I had to get to them. I was nearing the shack when I saw two little hands reach around the door. I yelled for them to stay inside and I came running into the shack. Inside, I led fourteen little hands down to the cellar and emptied my pockets. I helped bury the sparkling gold chips and returned to the main floor. I turned to my wife as the sun blasted through the small window and confessed my sin. She merely nodded and gave my hand a weak squeeze. She knew what I was in for. I kissed her forehead and stepped out into the morning sun to meet six sweaty, angry, men with hate in their eyes. I looked everyone of them in the eye, yelled a farewell to my children, and began my walk back into town. I walked leisurely as they yelled for me to hurry up. I watched as the sun rose ever so slowly against the pale blue sky as I whistled a happy tune. Once we reached the small town, I was immediately dragged into a building I had never noticed before. Inside stood an angry man who yelled my sentence loud enough for everyone to hear. I was taken by the arm and led outside to a tree and as I looked up at the dangling rope, I felt no regret. I mounted a weak horse and the rope was fastened around my neck. I was asked if I wanted to say anything but I had no words left. I gave a sharp nod, Looked up at the sky one last time, and that was that.

Harley Collar

12/15/2017 05:03:12 am

The desert expands around us with the heat beating down on our heads. The only breeze is faint and quickly dying. We stand under a gnarled tree, the only tree for miles around. The only other living things around are us and some very perspective vultures circling over head. Bastards wouldn't even hang me in town, I think to myself as a noose is looped around my throat. Looking around I see a look of hate and, more so, fear in the few people that have come to string me up.
“What’s with the long faces?” I quip. Sheriff William’s frown deepens and brings a forceful hand across my face.
“Be quiet you dog.” He spits out each word with venom in his voice. The sting of the slap only lasts momentary and my crooked smile stays unmoved. Sheriff William tears his angry glare away from me and looks to Judge Bill with a nod. He starts reading from a sheet of paper.
“ “Undead” Cassidy Wells, you are being hanged for the following crimes,” his voice is filled with disgust as he reads,“ arson,-.” I chuckle which makes Bill stop in his tracks. He grits his teeth as he looks at my smile. “ Why do you think that’s funny?”
“You call it arson, I call it justice.” Bill’s face is as red as an apple.His anger doesn’t explode out but I see it trying to. He continues with his reading but I don’t really listen. I just defend myself for each one in my head.
“Arson,” Bill repeats it with even more disgust covering the word. That was my first charge, a bold first crime if you ask me. That happened a year ago, but I still remember it clearer than ever.
I was in the tavern getting a quick drink before going back to work on Mr. Anderson’s ranch. I was sipping my beer when a little girl came up to me. She looked about seven or eight and her face was tearstained.
“What ya doin’ here?” I asked.
She sniffled and replied,“I need your help Mister.”
I turn away from her, not wanting to deal with childish games when I’m on a drink break.“Go home. Your mama is probably lookin’ for ya.”
She starts to weep,“Please M-mister.”
I sigh and turn towards to her, speaking very dully,“What is it?”
She proceeded to tell me a long story about Father Joseph, the local preacher. He isn’t practicing what he preaches and takes out certain urges on the local kids.
So that night, after I was done on the ranch, I went to the church, where Father Joseph sleeps in the back, and barged in. I was probably loud enough to wake up Joseph but I didn’t care. From my pocket I produce a package of matches, and take out the first one and strike it against the side. It ignites on the first try and I toss it into the nearby pew. I walk along and ignite more and more matches and toss them everywhere. The church catches on fire like wood in a bonfire.
The door at the back bursts open and a disgruntled Preacher Joseph comes out and stares at me with terror.
“W-what are you doin’?” He shrills. I pause my flaming rampage and stare at him. I walk towards him and light a match in a swift motion.
“Charlotte says hello.” I grab him by the jaw and force it open. Taking the lit match I shove it into his mouth and throw him into a flaming pew. He’s blood curdling scream rings out as I watch as the church burns to cinders. The flames lick at me but it doesn’t burn.
After the former preacher’s screams have stopped and most of the church is a flame I walk out and I’m greeted my a mass of people. The don’t try to stop me as I push through and ride off on my horse.
I’m snapped back to reality when Bill hisses my next charge,“Armed robbery.”
The bank in a town, not so far from here, was scamming people out of their money and the mayor was turning a blind eye towards it. So I took everything they had it the bank and started passing it back to the locals.
Bill hisses “ ten counts of murder.” Each one of them was a dirtbag that needed to be sent hell.
“and finally theft.” That’s the one got me in this noose. A women by the name of Amelia said some drunk stole a locket of hers that used to be her mother’s, so I went down to the brothel he was suppose to be staying at. When I snuck in, Sheriff William and a handful of deputies were waiting for me.
Now I stand here in the desert heat, with my hands and neck tied, waiting to be hanged. Amelia stands right in front of me, unable to look me straight in the eyes.
Bill speaks with hate in every syllable,“I would say ‘May God have mercy on your soul’ but I hope he doesn’t.” He spits in my face and motions to two deputies holding the other end of the rope. They pull and I’m lifted off the ground by my throat. I immediately can’t breathe anymore and my lungs start to burn int

Viviana Rocha

12/15/2017 05:20:18 am

They walked by pulling the fugitive along with them, one man holding each arm. The man's hands had been bound together with old rope, cutting into the flesh around his wrists. I stood by, watching in the crowd of people. I watched them as they dragged the man up the stairs of the gallow. I gasped as the man head butt the guy on his right and pushed him off the side of the wooden frame. In just as quick of time he turned around and started choking the other man with the rope bound to his torn and bloody wrists. You could see the man’s blood smear across the sheriff's face. All of the sudden out of nowhere *SMACK* and the man was on the ground. He had fallen in front of me, knocked out by one of the police officers. Another set of men, even bigger than the first two, came over and pushed me out of the way. The two big guys grabbed the man by the arms and the sheriff grabbed him by his hair from behind. He pulled his neck back so hard I could've sworn I heard it crack. The sheriff continued to tie a gag around the man's head and half into his mouth. The sheriff got up, gave the man a good kick in the stomach, and walked away. I looked down at the ground where I could see and hear the man wincing in pain. You could tell he had broken bones now. The two men pulled him up off the ground, but now the man's feet were dragging through the dirt on the ground. When he opened those piercing blue eyes and looked right into my green ones once again, it was as if he had seen my soul, and then I was back in the bar.
I was sweating. And it wasn’t from the heat. I walked into the bar and the room was hazy, filled with smoke. I walked through the clouds of nicotine and made my way to the bar. I sat there tapping my fingers along the edge of the counter. Counting, waiting, thinking. When I heard someone walk into the bar with heavy footsteps on the ground, I could feel my eyes widen. My hand flew to my pocket and my fingers tightened around the trigger of the gun. A man sat down 3 seats away from mine. He was old and tall and he wore a hat. He ordered a bourbon and set his hat down on the seat next to him. He made a sarcastic noise when he noticed I was looking at him.
“What d’you want, runt,” said the man as he stared into my eyes. I shuffled and re adjusted myself in my chair, my hand was still in my pocket.
“Nothin’,” I replied staring down at the water I had in front of me. He looked in my eyes one more time then scuffled and took a swig of his bourbon. He slammed his glass down on the counter then continued to get up and walk into a room with a sign by the door that read,”Men.” Not even two seconds after there were 3 more sets of heavy footsteps walking through the clouds of smoke in the bar. I quickly rose from my chair and made my way to another side of the bar. I watched from a distance as three men sat down at a table on the other side of the bar. It was the Mayor and two of his bodyguards. My eyes fixed on the pudgy man in the middle of the two dopey excuses for bodyguards. I slowly pulled the pistol out of my pocket and rested my finger on the trigger. I scanned the room. Only 6 people in the bar including myself. The man with the blue eyes was still in the bathroom, the bartender had just gone in the back room, and the the mayor and his monkeys stayed in place, smoking cigars and laughing obnoxiously. I got close to the exit, fixed my gun on the mayor and the other two. Then from my gun rang 3 haunting shots. Bang, bang, bang. I left the building and made my way to a nearby shop, placed the gun under a shelf, and acted as if nothing had happened.
I looked at the man with the blue eyes. Beaten and bloody up on the gallow. The sun was shining, I could see the sunset beautifly.. through the noose. They Removed the gag from the man’s mouth and asked if he had anything to say. He looked at me, and looked around the crowd, and remained silent. They pushed him forward and slipped his head through the noose. He looked up at the sky and I could see a silvery tear drop slip out of his crystal blue eyes and travel down the wrinkles of his face. He closed his eyes and uttered his haunting last words.
“God forgive me, and forgive him too,” he looked at me one last time knowing I had heard what he said. Then the ground beneath him disappeared.
I watched him struggle, I watched him struggle until his body stopped moving. I turned my back to his hanging corpse, and pushed my way through the crowd of people. Some crying and demanding his innocence, some cheering at the sight of his lifeless mass. And with that, I went to the little store, grabbed my gun, and skipped town. Never looking back.

Grace

12/15/2017 03:50:44 pm

He wasn’t like any other criminal in town. He was short, skinny and feminine. But nobody questioned him. His clothes didn't fit right and he never had a beard. Not even stub. His black hat covered most of his face and his long hair was blond and pulled back. No one ever saw his face or heard his voice but once you heard the click of his pistol he had you down on your knees without even thinking twice. This savage had no morals, no manners, no Bible. He was the best gunman this town has ever seen, never missin’ a shot. And if you dared to even try to run, you’d never see tomorrow.
It was a dry, sunny day down here in texas. Everyone was gathered at the saloon in town; laughter and the clicking of glass cups on the tables after each drink were the only things to be heard until he walked in. Everything fell silent. Noone drank their liquor and no one spoke a word.
His footsteps against the old, creaky wooden floor sent shivers down our spines as he walked straight to the bar and sat abruptly onto the bar stool. The bartender quickly poured him a glass of whiskey and the quiet criminal tipped his hat at him. He grabbed the glass of whiskey and drank it. It went down his throat smoothly like it was a normal glass of water. He slammed the drink back down and got up to leave without paying. We aren't a free service you have to pay! It wasn't right.
“Hey! You can’t do that!” I gasped, covering my mouth I realized my mistake. His pistol was out of his holster before i could even blink and pointed straight at me. I closed my eyes “I’m sorry sir! I-I didn't mean it!”
The cowboy stared at me from under his wide brimmed hat and bathed for a moment in the glory of his superiority. His eyes narrowed. He spat on the floor. Killing me was no worse than shootin' a dog in his eyes. His head still hurt from the previous nights drinking, the alcohol obliterated the painful memories of his family - the kith and kin he abandoned for this new life, a life seeking a fortune of cold metal. The cowboy raised his gun, gently squeezing on the trigger, playing with the point at which a bullet may or may not be released. The gunshot took me by surprise.
He shot his gun, but it didn't hit me; I opened my eyes to see the bartender was in fact the one who had been shot. Everyone ran outside of the saloon, no one wanting to get hurt as several people went to find the sheriff.
The sheriff was a big tall man, he pummeled over several people to get into the saloon and he tackled the small criminal to the ground. His hat went flying off as he was slammed into the wooden floor. Then and only then did surprise arise in the sheriff. He was now a she, The sheriff stood over her in shock. No women had ever done this before, let alone change their identity. No women had stole, killed and put the fear of god in everybody in town.
More men rushed in to help the sheriff and they tied her up. She struggled and kicked, but they were stronger than her and her was going to pay, she was going to hang.

Ross

12/18/2017 05:51:29 am

“I didn't kill him I promise” said the James the outlaw.
“We know you did it james there was no one else within 5 mile radius of that store so we know it was you.” said sheriff jacobs.
“Just because I was driving by in my car when it happened doesn't mean I could kill the man.”
“There is the hole in your story james see we found a 12 gauge shotgun in the back of your car with one single round fire and laying on the floor of the second hand store.”
“I am telling you someone is setting me up I am not the only one in this country with a 12 gauge that is not completely loaded in the back of there truck.”
“That is true but you were the only one within that 5 mile radius.”
“Fine then I will tell you my whole story again so it clears some things up for your week mind. So I was headed over to Wills house to help him with his roof so I got in my truck and started on that 20 mile drive over to his place, you know he live out in the middle of nowhere, when I was driving past that second hand store down yonder when I saw a peculiar looking man standing outside the store with a black bodysuit on. He did not look at me when I passed but then when I realized I had forgot my ladder I turned my car around then he and his car was gone. Just like that. Gone. So I peak my head in the store, because I was kind of hungry, but when i walked in the poor clare was completely shot up. I would say three time with a shotgun from really close range and that was when I called you sheriff I promise that is what happened.”
“Look James however many time you tell me the story it doesn't matter the gallows will be waiting for you tomorrow I am sorry but that is the way it is and I do not have a say. Good by James.”
As James was getting tied up he looked out in the crowded and started to scan the faces he saw a nursing mother her heart was full of hate just at the world. Next he saw a man looking him up and down determining by looks if he was innocent or not. Then he saw the sheriff looking at something with lots of interest. He followed his gaze a saw a man wearing a full black body suit walking away from the crowd, and that was the last thing that James ever saw.

Celeste Landis

1/9/2018 05:10:26 am

Dust scattered through the town’s main street, getting into the eyes of the onlookers. A tall, dark shadow loomed on the ground taking the shape of a noose.
Hiding on the porch of the general store was a young woman, her buoyant curls tied back under her bonnet. She watched with disdain at the pomp and circumstance; the sheriff escorted Obediah Finch from the station just down the way. Finch was tall and lean, his face rough as sandpaper. The woman examined his worn clothes, the dirt and dust spackling them like fresh paint. What had he seen? What adventures had he gone on? When the cowboy walked past the general store he took a moment to eye the woman up and down before being prodded in the back by the sheriff. His dark gaze made the woman blush furiously and look down at her hands.
“Get going, you Son-a-Bitch,” Sheriff Clark growled. Without so much as a grunt, Finch continued his march to the noose. The sheriff turned his scowl onto the woman. “Miss Gizelle, I reckon you go inside. You don’ wanna see this.”
“Mighty kind of you to think of my wellbeing, sheriff, but I will be just fine.” Gizelle gave the lawmen a weak, timid smile until he continued on his way. It faded into a pout as soon as he was ten paces off. She watched the cowboy strut up to the edge of the stairs leading up to the platform. Before he took a step up, Gizelle ran into the store, the doors banging loudly back and forth.
Mothers and Father and even some children starred as Obediah dragged himself up the steps. The platform creaked under his weight. The sheriff arranged the rope around his neck carefully so then tightening it just enough to be uncomfortable.
“Obediah Finch,” He said loud enough for everyone in the crowd and neighboring stores could hear. “You have been sentenced for the robbery of Saluth’s bank as well as many others and for the wrongful death of Samuel Elliott. It hereby on today, August 13th, 1866, that you will be hung from the neck until dead.”
The sheriff took a glance out into the crowd before reaching for lever. Just as he was about to pull it to open the trap door beneath, a gunshot rang through the town’s main street. Screams erupted from the crowd; women pulled their children into the arms as their husbands rushed them off to nearby safety. Another shot sounded and the sheriff fell off the podium, his back stained crimson. A dot broke out against the setting sun, the horizon turning orange. The dot turned into a silhouette of a horse. The horse and its rider sidled up to stand.
“Let’s get you out of here,” The rider said with their head hidden underneath a cowboy hat.
“As you say, Miss Gizelle,” Obediah launched off the platform and saddled up onto the horse, grasping his woman by the waist as the turned their tail out of town, off into the desert.

Alyssa Thomas

1/11/2018 05:07:58 pm

A stagecoach was riding a family from one town to another on a sunny day. It was a 20 mile ride. The woman was pregnant and wanted to tell her family who had no idea. The husband held her tight as the cart shook. All of a sudden, a man wielding 2 shotguns, rode his horse up to the stagecoach. The man jumped on the stagecoach and said: “Give me all your money.” The wife screamed for her life. The wife started to cry as the shotgun was aiming for the robber. The husband gives the robber all his money. The shotgun aims and pulls the trigger; but he was too slow. Just then, the robber shot the shotgun, killing him instantly. The shotgun falls off the stagecoach, getting trampled on as they ride. The driver pulls over to grab the dead body. By now the robber has fled, stealing $20 from the couple; who were engaged. The wife continues to cry as her husband holds her tight. The driver picks up the dead body and continues to the next town. When the stagecoach arrives, the driver goes straight to the sheriff. He reports the robbery and murder of his stagecoach. The sheriff takes statements from the driver, wife, and husband. They all describe the man as 6’3, about 183 lbs., and had a handlebar mustache with blue eyes. The sheriff drew a picture and posted it all over the town. 2 weeks after the robbery, a man saw a cowboy matching the description. The sheriff learns about this cowboy. His name is Barry, he lives in their town, and has lost his wife; causing him to drink his money away. The sheriff feels for the cowboy, for HE had lost his wife too. He still knew that the cowboy has committed a crime. The sheriff calls a town meeting, asking volunteers to help him catch the cowboy. He rounded up 11 men, all with different qualifications. They all got their horses and set off to find the fugitive. Each of the men knew Barry. They knew where he hid. They set off on a 60 mile journey to find the man. As they arrive at the hideout, they hear a cry. They knock on the door and arrest the man. They bring him into the town and hold a trial. The cowboy was found guilty and sentenced to be hanged. At 12 pm on a Sunday morning, the man was set to be hung.

Mr. Sispera

1/12/2018 05:25:02 am

Use past tense. Be careful with your tense agreement.

Rosa Zendejas

1/12/2018 08:18:01 am

Cletus Moore was walking down the dirt road, all you could hear was the sound of his spur clinging each step he takes. Cletus was a big, muscular man with ocean blue eyes and a bushy mustache who was missing teeth and looked like he had just crawled out of a ditch. He was headed towards the small town of Tortilla Flat, Arizona. It was a really hot summer during 1882, hardly anyone was outside due to the heat. Once Cletus got closer to town he could hear yelling and laughing coming from one of the local saloon. Dying to get a drink of water, maybe even some whiskey, Cletus started to pick up his pace, getting closer and closer to the saloon.
As soon as he opened the swinging doors of the saloon, everyone instantly grew silent. He looked around the room, confused, one eyebrow raised, wondering why everyone was acting like they had never seen another human being before. He slowly started to make his way to the counter while the faint whisperings followed. Half of the people sitting there looked amazed while the other half looked angry.
“What can I getcha?” said the old bartender who happened to be missing an eye. With a hesitant look on his face Cletus says “I’ll take uh glass of water, suh.” At this point no one was ashamed or even put in an effort to hide the fact that they were staring. Cletus, once again, raised an eyebrow in confusion. He started to get an unsettling feeling and thought that it’d be best if he just left. As he was about to exit the saloon, a man slightly bigger than him takes a step in front of him and stops him.
With an evil grin the man says “Where you think you’re goin, son?” Cletus was down right confused and overwhelmed, why is everyone giving me a hard time? He thought to himself. “I must be goin’ now, I’m headed o’er yonder before dark. I’m startin’ to feel like it was a mistake walkin’ up in here.” Luckily, Cletus had a weapon on him, he put his hands on his hips and slyly pulled his jacket over his gun so that it wasn’t as visible. As Cletus proceeded to hide his gun, it instead looked like he was reaching for one. Since he was unwelcome guest, the man draws his weapon and holds Cletus at one point.
“You listen here boy, how dare you come o’er here into my town and try to pull your gun out on me. I oughta teach you a lesson for comin’ here with your disrespect.”
The man and his group of followers grabbed Cletus by the arms and dragged him out of the saloon and down the dirt roads to a gallow. No matter how hard Cletus tried, he couldn’t escape. The sound of being mocked by the evil man and everyone watching was blocked out by Cletus as he was about to be hanged. Faintly all the man could hear was “3….2….1….”.

Candy Aranda

2/22/2018 05:34:14 am

‘Rais’. That's what we was instructed to call ‘em. If we were to call ‘em somethin’ else, we’d be in big trouble. Of course I had ta find out the hard way.When I first got here, I found them walking aroun’ town, wielding those high-tech guns. I didn’ think they would do much harm though since they just stood there, watching the civilians roam aroun’ the town. As months passed by, I noticed the civilians call these creatures ‘Rais’. I found it odd because they all had specific names and numbers engraved onto the pins that were clearly displayed on the arms of the Theyitetrics. One time while I was jus’ walking aroun’ town, looking for somethin’ interestin’ to do, I heard someone call them by their name.
“U-Uhm uhh oh! Nadiam 233, can you please help me look for my little sister? I lost her in the crowd an-”
He was then shot by one of the guns them was wieldin’.I stood there, watching as people panicked and started yelling. I quickly ran home. I got curious as to why them didn’ like ta’ be called by them names.As the evening went on, I got more and more curious about why they wouldn’t like to be called by their actual names.I made a plan.The very next day when I went into town, I walked up to one, called ‘em by their name, and ran. I ran as fast I could and didn’t stop.I ran and ran, looking back to make sure they weren’t following. Of course this ain’t no normal creature. This ‘thing’ was right on my tail. I turned back around, looking around at the people I passed, until I found a huge crowd.I ran into the crowd, making sure to check if ‘it’ was following me.’Course it wasn’t. I am pretty good runner if I do say so myself.I ran out of the crowd, hiding behind a wall.After a few minutes of catchin’ my breath, I turned around to come face to face with another one of ‘em. Before I had enough time, ‘it’ grabbed me, and then stuck a needle into my arm, injecting some sorta liquid that soon made me pass out. I woke up to very loud sounds, and as I lifted my head, someone threw somethin’ at my head. I looked up, and watched everyone screaming things at me.I tried to move but soon realized I was tied up.
“What is this?” I asked, once again looking around.
“You’re a disgrace!”
“You shouldn’t have called them by their original name!”
“Now we all have to suffer!”
“We already had someone do this yesterday and now this one?” Many people shouted.
A few mintues after their yelling, I was pulled onto my feet, and blinded by a piece of cloth that was put over my eyes. And taken to a place.I couldn’t see anythin’ and started to panic.The cloth was taken off, and infront of me I saw something. A rope? What is that for? I was led to the rope, where I clearly saw there was a hoop. Oh no. The ‘robots’ put the rope around my neck, and then pushed me and-

Shaylee Belkowski

2/28/2018 06:51:05 am

I was walk'in down the road of my hometown, it was and ol' sunny day and many people were out. I'd always here of randomness here after i left, of course nothing out of the blue.'round this town, a saying, a old broom sweeps clean but an old broom knows all 'em corners.

"Ya'll gotta have some guts to walk around here without carryin a shot gun huh?" I heard a voice say behind me, as you believe i turned around quicker than you can say a word.
"Me? my ol' man? Huh, i guess so, what's a fella like you walking around the streets like this?" I push the guy, trying to get any possible answers as to why a guy like him is talkin to a guy like me.
"well why don't you come with me and find out ol' man?" A grin apon his face was so clear it could scare the daylights out of anyone who walks past.
I didn't have enough time to say no, until this guy jumped on me and brought his nasty old hands over my face.
"Ya'll better let go of me! I beg you let go of me!" I screech, bangin, and pounding my hands on his hands, 'this guy must've be outta wack' I'm thinkin.
As soon as i know it, i'm being dragged into the back of an ol' wagon and drove off to an unknown destination, all i can hear is the sound of laughter, something moving and soon after, something is injected into my side and i fall asleep soundly.

"You better get up ol' man, we've gotta lot to do with you" I hear a raspy, nasty voice say, I tell ya, i'm never the one to flinch, but when that man has a voice of non other, it scares ya.
"I'm up! What are yall doin with me? I aint even know you" I yell out.
I'm soon able to see again after a blindfold is taken off of my eyes, blinding eyesight is what i outta had. It took me a good ol' minute to realize i'm standing on a rock with a machine with a rope on the end of it, 'what in the world?' .
"This 'ere, we have a man of words, he just roams around,yall knows what happens when people just roam around" Laughter erupts
"We have a man that aint gonna speak a word anymore, because after this 'ere, he gonna be dead" He spoke, my eyes widen, and i shake in fear pleading, but no words come out and as soon as i know it, i have a rope over my neck, and after that, it's history for myself.

The "Outlaw" character sketch

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