Her boots crackled across dusty gravel, her lungs sore from moving so fast for so long, and though parched under the white-hot sun, Amy relished the taste of blood in her mouth for its iron resolve and its thin liquidity.
She’d fled that one-horse town as soon as she was able to slip past her pretentious preacher of a daddy, ordained by his own self, and backed by the hood-eyed lizards that supported his delusions and delighted in further abusing his power.
She’d heard of a place, across the mountain and across the desert it was, where a woman could restore her sense of dignity, and of who she was before she’d had it beaten out of her.
Ironically, this safe place, name of Lula’s Blue Moon Saloon, was in another small desert town; a bar and refuge that served liquor, hale and hearty vittles to satisfy most folks’ taste for both the unusual and the everyday sublime, and physical delights of unimaginable variety, as long all partners were willing and fair in the exchange. That’s what Lotta DuCharms had told her, right before she died on the wrong end of the Colt 45 of a jealous husband.
So here she was, on her last legs, horse having died somewhere miles away in a place where even the buzzards had a hard time finding him (looking back, she saw them circling leisurely, coming to ground), but there ahead, through the blistering, wavering heat, she saw signs of a town, like biscuits baking in an oven, just on the edge of the horizon.
© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2021)
The challenge? Write a story in 6 sentences, no more & no less, and if you’d like, share your creation or just visit and comment on others’ ideas, with GirlieOnTheEdge, Denise. The prompt is “RESTORE”, and here’s where you join the party: Six Sentence Stories