Western Bowman

A Story by Abishai100

A tale of Old-West mystery and 'ghost-magic' invoking a shootist/experimental form for 'white' premonitions in a capitalism-race rule (for all!).

A fun summer adaptation of the awesome modern/Western film The Quick and the Dead (Leo DiCaprio), which I think you'll like (and thanks for reading!),

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I want to recount to you a very under-told 'underground' tale from the Old West (New World) during which my great migrant-ancestor who called himself the Duke challenged a horrid town managed by an evil baron named Ion during a pre-organized gun-shootout summer 'contest' involving all sorts of 'beings' on Earth, and this story's about human imagination, personality, handshakes, Romanticism, and of course 'pure' killers. Follow along.

DUKE: Happy to be here; this is a nice town (ha); I call myself Duke; I'm entering the shootout/contest, on behalf of the two young 'damsels' sort of 'strayed' by this ruthless Baron of yours (Ion?); and maybe I'll get a sort of storyteller's 'redemption' out of this migrant-venture (or tale); so I hope you'll have the 'cider' I need for my healing ailments (thanks).

BARON ION: If any of you 'Western rascals' court this Duke 'hero-fella' of yours, I swear, I'll gun him down myself, since I've entered the contest (myself), alongside my 'upstart' sonny-boy (Fee) who 'dreams' he may outshoot his master-father; we'll see who runs this old West-town (of mine!).

Now, this micro-rivalry between this evil baron Ion and his wayward 'rebellious' upstart-shooting son ('Fee') was quite the upstart of that old Earth, and he dreamt (himself) of hopefully rescuing the two 'damsels' my migrant-ancestor (Duke) appeared to claim a deed of heroics on behalf of the riddled town in that period of American history. Duke warned Fee that his father (Baron Ion) was no small shooter and would simply cut him down should he make it to the Semi-Finals to challenge his old daddy, but Fee, the self-made youthful romantic, insisted that his own story would generate its own art...which it did not (irony).

GUN MERCHANT: We're pleased to have such a 'skill-man' hoping for us (all).

DUKE: Thanks; I need a quick/steady shoot-piece; something easy to hold/fire.

GUN MERCHANT: We've got some pretty nice pieces here, good-fella (certainly).

DUKE: I don't want something conspicuous, but 'handy' (for me); I'll get Ion!

GUN MERCHANT: That's good valor, my main-man; are you a priest (or something)?
DUKE: Hoping/reading/studying (perhaps/arguably).

GUN MERCHANT: Which one do you want, good fella?
DUKE: Gimme that silver-one, with the ornate design, seems ironically simple.

GUN MERCHANT: Excellence (in choice), Duke; pure excellence (ha).

My ancestor (Duke) was quite the 'guardsman' of this old Western tale of handshakes and gun-play, and he, as a migrant-man, resembled something (perhaps) more of a pirate or musketeer than a cowboy (honestly), but in truth, he'd become a 'priestly' man of brooding skills and hellfire and had the gumption to rid the town of the evil baron (once, and for all).

DUKE: I have this 'premonition' that we'll make the 'pages' of some future-world 'landscape' photo-image board for personality-shares in the storyteller's quills of adventurism daring (or foolishness!).

EZZY (Damsel): We'd hoped our own town-hero (Fee) would dethrone Ion.
ELIZA (Damsel): We're (still) happy to have your here, sir (Duke).

DUKE: Thanks; you've got the look of angels, and maybe Fee's gonna marry one of you.

FEE: I do love Ezzy/Eliza (which one?); but I wonder if this 'stranger' cares too.

EZZY: I'm gonna put a photo-spread in a time-capsule for some future writer to discover for our truly 'American' reading (wow).

The real 'spice' to this tale-equation was a newcomer to Baron Ion's hosted gun-contest from Hell, a Native-American man named Yahoo who some claimed was no human being but a Martian from Mars who was disguised for this town-contest 'visitation' to create his own (private/personal) journal-account of what made this time-era of American lore such a thing of imagery...and mystery.

ION: You dare to challenge a monarch like me, sir (Duke)?
DUKE: I just want good readings for your 'sonny' (Fee) and Ezzy/Eliza.

ION: You fancy yourself some kind of 'collector' of treasures/superstition?

DUKE: I'm studying to be a priest, Baron; ridding my (own) heart of Hell.

ION: We'll see...you must be 'toasting' your own hand-piece (gun), Duke.

DUKE: That I am; it's 'quick' enough to get rid of your (own) 'riddle' hands/arms.

Do you want to know what happened during this grand tale of the old Western blueprint of that time-period of the good Earth, friends? Well, Fee, our daring and 'rebellious' sonny-figure did (indeed!) make it to the Semi-Finals to challenge the evil Baron (his own daddy!) but lost in a heartbreak, and was mourned by Eliza (his 'true' sweetheart).

Meanwhile, Yahoo (the Martian?) and Duke (our 'real' hero/protagonist) made it through the ranks as well, taking down all kinds of 'beings' in this old town, now a 'ghost-magic' town of simple memory (for most!), who boasted/toasted various hand-pieces of fire and ice and offered a combat-sense of 'capitalist' premonition, but Duke/Yahoo proved to be too fast, but ultimately faced each other in the Semi-Finals.

EZZY: How'd you defeat Yahoo, Duke?
DUKE: I'm truly sorry about your darling-boy hero-child (Fee), Ezzy!

EZZY: Just stay focused for the Finals (against Ion), as you did against Yahoo.

DUKE: Yahoo was 'other-worldly' and I had to 'stalemate' him with quick-ice.

EZZY: Make you're resolved to do the very-same against the Baron, Duke.

DUKE: No fear.

That's what happened, friends. Duke outshined Yahoo and then killed Baron Ion. However, Fee was a casualty of this 'war' of language-arts, and old Western mystery. Perhaps that's how we'll (all) recount and 'shape' this image-diorama 'conception' of all that's chess in the annals of human-world (or capitalism-race!) weakness.

WIFE: Why'd your ancestor/shootist/priest (Duke) refer to himself as a 'bowman' in his diary?
ME: Me thinks that great fella-of-the-West was somehow dreaming he was an 'archer' of the heart.

WIFE: He'd been a real hero, in that time of sadness/murder/misfortune (no?).

ME: Excellence; your egg-curry dinner(s) can invoke in me a forgetting/optimism, darling.

WIFE: Good!

As I recount this tale to you as the descendant of that 'stranger' migrant-priestly hero (Duke) in that 'misadventure' of cowboys-and-aliens invoking a special mystery-magic for American landscape arts, I think of this new age of social-media culture 'flowery' and handshakes of inventions in imagery/personality for the sake of pure capitalist wind (ha).