Dawn Hart is the Readers’ Choice in this week’s Indies Unlimited Flash Fiction Challenge. The winning entry is decided by the popular vote and rewarded with a special feature here today. (In case of a tie, the writer who submitted an entry first is the winner per our rules.) Without further ado, here’s the winning story:
by Dawn Hart
“Chet Rogers, get down here, coward.”
I stood with my back against the wall and pushed the curtain back with the tip of my Smith & Wesson. Why is he after me?
“Don’t make me come up there,” he spat without breaking stance. The sun glistened off the twin Colts’ pearl handles that held back his long, tattered duster.
I slipped the lucky coin my gal had given me into my shirt pocket and stepped through the swinging door.
“Well, well, whatta you know,” he said as his lips curled into a smirk.
I stopped at the edge of the porch. Three stairs stood between me and the legendary outlaw. I glanced behind me.
“Ain’t nobody gonna help you now.” His voice was dry and raspy.
Room 50₵, Meal 25₵, Bath 25₵. The fresh paint on the sign clashed against the cracked, rust-stained wood of the old inn. “Humph,” I snorted under my breath. Who pays that to stay in this rat hole town?
“No sense in putting it off.” He took a slow step forward.
I stepped down, facing him. Lord help me.
“Do you have the money you lost to me last night?” he sneered.
My stomach rose into my throat. I gripped the handle of the Smith & Wesson tucked into my pants. What the hell happened last night?
I jolted awake.
The streetlight outside my window illuminated a dark figure with a pistol pointed at my head.