Die Writing

Hello, brother

Posted in Guns of St. Michael by erdaron on May 5, 2011

Aside

Now, imagine this storyline, all the bits from “Guns of St. Michael,” as a comic book.

Sweetness

The young man stared into the coffee. The sun’s come up a couple of hours ago, and he’s been up too long. Sleep deprivation wrapped him in surreal detachment. He thought he was watching himself absent-mindedly stir the coffee. The prospect of a whole other day was annoying.

Someone dropped into the chair across the table suddenly. So suddenly, the stranger could as well have materialized in the chair. The stranger dusted his jacket, looked at the young man, and smiled.

“You are new here, aren’t you?”

“Uh… yeah. Never been in this place before.” Speaking took entirely too much concentration.

“Oh, I didn’t mean this joint.” He took a drag of a cigarette. Ice rattled in his whiskey glass. Did he have all of those things when he sat down? The young man couldn’t be sure. He focused on the man. Long, curly black hair. Work black jacket. Curious, intelligent eyes.

“What do you mean then?”

“I mean the world.” The stranger was staring at the young man, excited like he’d just figured out the world’s most precious puzzle. “You’re the new messiah, brother,” he said gleefully, leaning forward.

“Uh…” Was this real? “And who are you then?”

“Ah. Yes. Well. I’m Satan.” Another drag. Does he ever ash that smoke?

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