Tuesday Ten – Beaulieu

Each week, we will spend ten minutes writing and attempting to complete a flash story. We hope that the exercise will allow us to grow as writers, as well as provide a small amount of entertainment for you. Further, we hope to inspire you to do the same.


There was something incredibly attractive ‘bout a woman who could shoot. Throw on a pair a them cowboy boots you just created my dream lady.

Name’s Joel Jameson and I’m ‘bout to die. Alright, maybe I’m being a bit dramatic. Since I ain’t died yet it’s unfair to say I’m knowin’ I will. Stranger things have happened. But if you look out the windows’a my prison cell right now you’ll see two things. A beautiful, smoking hot woman in cowboy boots holdin’ a smoking pistol and the gallows waitin’a tighten ‘round my neck like I was wearing it to town hall.

What I done wasn’t so bad, really. But if you asked her, she’d say I killed her pa and burned down ‘er house. I pretty much got all night and just this pen to keep me company so let me tell you a tale ‘bout how proposing to Miss Annabelle Chavez got me hog tied and sentenced to death.

It started a few years back. I ‘member the day being rainy, cus’ rain don’t happen much ‘round these parts. She was outside coolin’ off and my horse ’n’ buggy drove by, splatterin’ some mud all over ‘er. Me, bein’ the gentleman that I am—I got out and apologized and set things straight. I even took her to the saloon in town. Dead Eye Saloon was the first ever restaurant in our little town. That’s where they make you food and you pay ‘em to eat it.

Well, we paid ‘em and ate their food. Needless to say, she fell madly in love with me. I was in love with her too. A few months later we were married. She and I got on together like bullets and guns and we fought with that same kinda explosive fire too.

Was just a few months after the wedding when she came down to the Dead Eye and caught me fondlin’ some lady. All the guys do it in there. You drink a lil’ bit o’ whiskey and you fool around, ya know? Just a little bit o’ fun. That crazy lady pulled out her pistol—man I love it when she does that—and aimed it right at my manhood, told me I either lost one’a my boys or I stood before the sheriff to answer for infidelity.

Crazy lady said I was cheatin’ on ‘er. I don’t even know that saloon whore’s name.

I ain’t crazy, so I took the second option. The rules ‘round here are honest and strict. The problem being that even the sheriff ain’t honest folk. Matter o’ fact, he was there that very night with Miss Mary Sue. Just my wife ain’t seen him beings how he was upstairs.

Well, we got a code, us boys. So I didn’t rat on him, but he sentenced me to the gallows. So here I am. She’s out there, wishin’ she’d’a just shot me and I’m in here wishin’ she’d‘a too.


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