November 2017 -- 75 Word Challenge -- VICTORY TO MOSAIX!

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Dead Shots and High Trails


The crowd erupted as she put a bullet through the card held aloft by Nancy. As she left, she signed autographs on the pictures held out.


Charli Stone. The Eagle-Eyed Cowgirl of Marshall Gunn’s Wild West Show!


Back in her van, she shifted. Nobody saw her take off, into the night. When she got back, Nancy was waiting.

“Do you want anything to eat?”

Charli shook her head. “No, thanks. I had rabbit earlier.”
 
Interview for The Stage newspaper (Deadwood Edition)


“I toured with Barnum and Ringling; worked with all the big names. General Tom Thumb, Buffalo Bill, Sitting Bull, Annie Oakley. But the greatest was the Yellow Rose.”

“Of Texas?”​

“Alpha Centauri. Best goddamned shape-shifting alien ever. You name it, she could be it. Bearded lady, elephant, strongman, tiger, bareback rider. Was never the same after Tombstone, though.”

“What happened?”​

“Kept turning herself into the Big Top everywhere. Got jailed for Loitering Within Tent.”
 
The Steal of the Show


The clown muttered incoherently, as a tumbleweed skittered between them. He would win.

But the cowboy drew first, firing without hesitation.

Half a second too late, the clown pulled his.

Wide-eyed, the cowboy staggered, blood spreading rapidly across his shirt. He stared at his gun… A water pistol?

“The ol’ switch-a-roo.” The clown laughed, “This ain't my first rodeo, padre.” He slipped his new handgun into an oversized pocket, grinning wide as a yokel.
 
I Spite On Your Face

The Carnivol wasn’t due for another week but the Frontier Railroad tracks were already humming. Across town windows were neatly shut, doors closed, and battens nailed. No tumbleweed snuck around; even they hid.

Sheriff Trump couldn’t believe it’d been a year since they’d come for their accursed lien.
‘They’ll take none this year,’ he told the town congregated outside the mines, throwing aside a charred bundle.

Behind him the first flames licked the Town Hall.
 
Silver Heels

The Summer Moon breathed magic Silver shadows under the Big-Top.
Grizzled miners and cowpokes watched Silver Heels dance atop white horses.
They, her universe, slaves while she danced.
Angry eyes watched.
"Buckskin Joe! Soften eyes upon Silver Heels."
"Sitting Bull! Silver not for White ghosts!" Buckskin Joe snarled.
"Silver Heels' dances love. Your heart finds hers."
Buffalo Bill sighed. "Watching that empty ring again Sitting Bull?"
"I watch Silver moon-dance."
Only dust remained.
 
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Bill and Lill: the Night’s Takings


“You robbed who?”

“Don’t worry, Lilly: they’re outsiders. Real outsiders. What I saw when I was casing the place…. They’re not human!”

“Nobody crosses the Carney Folk, Billy. They have powerful friends.”

“Like who?”

“The Funslinger! He’ll play on your fears, toy with you… make you laugh ’til you die. He’ll—”

“What’s that jingling sound?”

“It’s him, the—”

“—Punslinger, ma’am, Fun’s big brother. Have you two met my friends, the Slay Belles?”

 
Go West, Young Man


“Stay away from that photographer, boy. Them things’ll take your soul.”

Billy nodded, eyes bright, ducking out of Grandpa’s grasp and into the House of Mirrors.

Warped and twisted images swirled as he stumbled through the visual cacophony. Short, fat Billy leered at him, grinning; he fell against a tall, skinny one.

Billy staggered out; a following carny peeled his images from the mirrors.

Nearby, The World’s Oldest Man straightened a bit, eyes brighter.
 
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