103 lines
6.4 KiB
Plaintext
103 lines
6.4 KiB
Plaintext
ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜ
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ÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛßÛßßßßßÛÛÜ ÜÜßßßßÜÜÜÜ ÜÛÜ ÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÜÜÜÜÛßß ßÛÛ
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ßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜ ßÛÛ ÜÛÛÛÜÛÛÜÜÜ ßÛÛÛÛÜ ßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÛÛÜÜÜÛÛÝ Ûß
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ßßßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜ ÞÝ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛßßÛÜÞÛÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÜ ßßÛÛÛÞß
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Mo.iMP ÜÛÛÜ ßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÝÛ ÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÞÛÛÛÛ ÞÛÛÛÛÛÝ ßÛß
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ÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÝ ÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÝ ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÛ
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ÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÝ ÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ß ÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÜ ÜÛ
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ÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÝ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÝ ÞÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛß
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ÜÛßÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÜÜ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÝ ÛÛÞÛÛÛÛÛÝ ÞÛÛÛÛÛÛßß
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ÜÛßÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÛÛÛÛÜÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÞÛ ßÛÛÛÛÛ Ü ÛÝÛÛÛÛÛ Ü
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ÜÛ ÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛß ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ßÛÜ ßÛÛÛÜÜ ÜÜÛÛÛß ÞÛ ÞÛÛÛÝ ÜÜÛÛ
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ÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛß ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜ ßÛÜ ßßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛß ÜÜÜß ÛÛÛÛÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÛÛÛÛÛß
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ßÛÜ ÜÛÛÛß ßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜ ßßÜÜ ßßÜÛÛßß ßÛÛÜ ßßßÛßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛßß
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ßßßßß ßßÛÛß ßßßßß ßßßßßßßßßßßßß
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ARRoGANT CoURiERS WiTH ESSaYS
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Grade Level: Type of Work Subject/Topic is on:
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[ ]6-8 [ ]Class Notes [Creative Story about ]
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[x]9-10 [ ]Cliff Notes [Jimmy ]
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[ ]11-12 [x]Essay/Report [ ]
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[ ]College [ ]Misc [ ]
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Dizzed: o4/95 # of Words:891 School: ? State: ?
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ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ>ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ>ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ>Chop Here>ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ>ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ>ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ>ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
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Jimmy lay flat on the ground, his belly pressed tightly to the earth.
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Green shrubs sheltered him from view. Only one hundred yards of cleared
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land sat between him and his objective. He had waited five years for this.
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It so happened that it was five years ago from today that it had happened.
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The nightmare that had taken place that evening was again playing in his
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mind. The sound of the first shot echoed through his head. The scream as
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his mother fell. The futile, retaliatory shots from his father . . .
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That evening had resulted in the death of both of his parents. He
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couldn't help but think that, in some way, it was his fault. If only he
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hadn't left his parents alone. If only he hadn't gone to explore the
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woods. If only he'd thought to bring a gun with him. If only he hadn't
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just stood there watching from the protection of the trees as those lethal
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bullets found their way into his parents. Then, maybe then, things would
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have been different. Jimmy couldn't really blame himself. After all, what
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could a fifteen year old boy be expected to do under those circumstances?
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His parents had dreamed of a better life. A life that would bring
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prosperity and success for the family, specifically for him. They had
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heard there was rich, fertile land out west. Sadly enough, his parents'
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last breaths were drawn only a few hundred miles from their dream. They
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had been murdered for nothing more than the few dollars and a couple of
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small pieces of jewelry that they had possessed. The murderers had laughed
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as they kicked at his dead father, looking for anything of value. They had
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been quite sure of themselves and wore no masks. Jimmy could still
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remember their faces as if it was yesterday. The murderers would be
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brought to justice, come hell or high water, Jimmy had decided. As it
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turned out, he was complied to track them for the past five years, through
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both hell and high water.
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Their trail had led through many obscure, sparsely populated western
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towns. It had not been easy. But Jimmy had always looked older than he
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was. Even at fifteen, he had been able to get rooms at hotels and bars.
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Now, at twenty years of age, Jimmy was a hardened man. Life on the road
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had been rough. It had taught him definite proficiency with his revolver
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and not to be afraid to use it. He had been through it all now,
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gunslingers, murderers, drunks, prostitutes, you name it, he'd been there.
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The stress showed on his face though his tangled beard concealed most of
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it. The only clothes that he owned, he wore. They consisted quite simply
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of a pair of jeans, a plaid shirt, a black belt and a Stetson. Other than
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his horse and his highly polished revolvers and his rifle, these were his
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sole possessions.
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A shadow stirred in the window and Jimmy forced the memories into the
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back of his mind. His parents' death would soon be avenged. There were
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only several hours until complete darkness would conceal his approach.
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Jimmy began to plan his invasion. Drunken voices were raised in the cabin.
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"Good," thought Jimmy, "They should be intoxicated enough that they'll
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never know what hit them." With this for assurance, Jimmy closed his eyes
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slowly and rested, anticipating the night's conclusion.
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The sound of a plate breaking and the sounds of knuckles meeting flesh
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woke Jimmy with a start. A quick surveillance of the property assured
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Jimmy that nothing special was happening. He had often seen two best
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friends fight when they were drunk. Liquor had that effect on people. It
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made them do crazy things. That was essentially why he tried to stay away
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from the stuff. He was wished that he'd brought some along tonight though.
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Just then he was getting a little queasy about the whole affair. During the
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past five years there had never been any doubt what he had to do. Now . .
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. "There is no question of what I have to do," Jimmy convinced himself.
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It was time. The only light source in the area was that coming from
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the lamp on the table in the cabin. His revolver slid out of its holster
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silently. Jimmy crept up to the door, staying carefully to the shadows.
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One deep breath of conviction and a swift, strong kick knocked the door off
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its hinges. He tensed, ready to fire at the first sign of movement or
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life. The air in the cabin hung thick with smoke from the fireplace.
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Jimmy quickly surveyed the cabin. Signs of a struggle were everywhere.
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Suddenly his eyes came to rest on two motionless bodies lying on top of
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each other on the floor. Jimmy kicked at the man on top, much like the man
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had done to his father. The difference here being that it was not Jimmy's
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weapon that had ended this criminal's life. The kick separated the two
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bodies, revealing a knife in each man's heart.
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Whether the second man had committed suicide after realizing that he
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had killed the first or whether both men had plunged the knives into each
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other's bodies at the same time, Jimmy would never know. His five year
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nightmare was over.
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