A girl and her cat take on the world with nothing more than a cup of tea and a good book and enough dreams to fill the universe.
This evening, it was my pleasure to go and see Chadron State College’s production of Vampire Cowboy Trilogy. It was fantastic. A wonderful romp through many different aspects of pop culture with an occasionally too heavy message thrown in. I really enjoyed it, but moreover I was inspired. I was inspired to write a story about the vampire and human man in the first video vignette or even the human female and vampire in the second one. The idea of the western cowboy vampire really struck me as somewhat original and because not much has happened in my life or reading since Wednesday, except for my freedom from Walmart, I thought I would try a quick backstory. (This has also given me the idea to do creative Saturdays while on Monday and Wednesday I shall blog about my reading and my life, Saturdays will be reserved for original work done by yours truly.)
Harris took a deep breath and pushed against the solid oak door. His feet crept tentatively forward as if moving on their own accord drawing him into the smoky, crowded room. He kept his head down, his hat pulled low over his brow, as he approached the bar. The room had not gone quiet, as he had expected, but remained a cacophony of men laughing, the boozy pianist, glasses and bottles chinking. His heart was beating a rapid tattoo against his chest and he wiped his hands on his pants as he slid onto a stool. The barman didn’t even spare him a glance as he flipped up a shot glass and sloppily poured whiskey into it. Harris stared at the glass for a moment before reaching for it with shaking hands and tossing it back. It burned and his face pulled into a momentary grimace.
It was his first time in the saloon and he felt like he was intruding on the world of men, a world where he was just his father’s boy. The whiskey had helped dull the edge of his nervousness. He snuck a look up at the barman and the man was instantly refilling the small glass on the sticky counter. Harris spun around on his stool, shot in hand, and surveyed the men around him. There were a few women in dresses he knew his mother would never own and never approve of. Frankly, he leaned back and let his eyes caress the flesh he told himself he would never touch. He already had tentative plans to woe his childhood friend, Annie. A simple farm girl to suit a simple farm boy like himself. A perfect match. He was thinking on this, ignoring the booze in his hand when she walked in.
She wore boots and spurs just like the men. Her hair was pulled back neatly and her blue checked shirt was tucked into her pants. Harris’s eye was immediately attracted to the design on her chaps. It was some of the finest craftsmanship he had ever laid eyes on. The room quieted for a moment at her entrance, like a bartender pulling up on the bottle just enough to stop the flow of liquid for a moment, before dipping it to another glass. She smiled knowingly as she strode confidently towards the one man who knew no better than to stop staring.
She slipped onto the stool next to him and took the already prepared beer from the man behind the bar. Harris didn’t know what was so mesmerizing about this woman next to him, but he felt the magnetic pull of his gaze to her face. When she returned his impertinent regard, he downed the shot in his hand and gulped at the fire in his throat. Her smirk broadened into an almost smile.
“Tell me, do you always stare at strangers like this?” she asked. Her voice was mellow and crisp with age. She quirked an eyebrow. Harris blinked. She was on his other side. He turned to her confused.
“No ma’am.” He ducked his head politely. “I didn’t mean nothing by staring at you.” She patted his arm.
“Of course not.” She took a sip of her beer. “You can call me Hannah.”
Check back next Saturday for the next installment of Harris and Hannah.
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No One Here But a Writer Who Gets Up and Try
Brian Marggraf, Author of Dream Brother: A Novel, Independent publishing advocate, New York City dweller
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Stefan Falke photographs artists who live and work along the 2000 miles long U.S.- Mexico border to document the vibrant culture of the region on both sides. All photos © Stefan Falke (use with written permission by the author only)