BG has grown quite a lot. New characters have joined the plot. What will this new volume hold in store. You have to check it out if you want to know more.
A Collaboration of authors from around the globe. A western written in poetry and prose. Wher...
Nothing is ever quite what it seems, even though I know, all the omens had been pointing in the right direction, and the Liberty Belle was back afloat, and safely on her way to the dry dock, at the harbour of her spiritual home, the strangely enigmatic old west town of Busted Gulch, but still, my stomach churns uncontrollably, as I wave, and blow Denver a farewell kiss from the comforts of the balcony on the top deck.
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Is there any rational reason for my feeling of foreboding, perhaps it was because he had insisted that I stay aboard to recover from a dislocated shoulder, received during our headlong encounter with the flooded muddy track, whilst consumed by a race clouded with memories of our more youthful days, driven on by times now long past, as we hastily made our way through the Salt Marshes, which had recently been battered by the less than tender hands of mother nature, and even though dragged along by his stirrup, Denver who has the luck of the devil, had escaped without as much as a scratch!
Ever had a feeling of foreboding, which foretells, that no matter what your path, your every decision will be challenged, which becomes the story of your life. Well, from the beginning we came together and went against our fates, and as a consequence we've had to fight tooth and nail to remain tethered, struggling to maintain those sacred bonds when our hands were bound as one, and we vowed to love, honour, and protect each other, until death.
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Quite a lot of water has flowed under Denver's bridge during our time, and some of it has shall we say, been a little tainted, even though he always sets out with good intentions, he's not always a wise navigator, so tends to wander off course. Especially when for family and parental responsibilities I have not been by his side, to share his problems and to offer him my guidance, but then he's never been that fond of taking advice or heeding warnings, after all, he is just a man, with those fatal bold and brash instincts, and will often blunder in where angels fear to tread.
What this feeling is, I don't truly know, but if there is one thing I know for sure, it is, that his past and present are on a collision course and there is nothing I can do to stop it, for it has been written in his destiny by those Gods he refuses to acknowledge, you'd think that by now, a man of his vast experience would be a little more understanding and accepting of such things, but no, the norm has never been his way, that's for sure.
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It was going to be a long day, as the Liberty Belle, limped slowly back to town, so I took a deep breath, shed a few pointless tears and walked slowly back to our quarters, where to my surprise I found our daughter Shadow distressed and curled up in a ball on the foot of my bed, clutching at her tummy, I should have known better, it was more than obvious that she too would be sharing these feelings.
Seems that she has progressed far more than I had realised, something that became clear when there was a knock upon my door, which opened without invitation and in came our children, with a tray of glasses and champagne, and one by one they gave me a hug, each reassuring me that everything would work out fine, and it always does adds, the not so little Jhonny, who had deliberately waited until last, bless him, he'd even dressed up as a butler, to serve the champagne, oh how I love my children, I knew in my heart how proud Denver would have been, to see them caring for me.
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Footnote: This rather unusual acrostic story is dedicated to all my @storytellers-saloon co-authors, who continue to make the mystery that is Busted Gulch flourish, in a place where Nothing is ever quite what it seems, thank you one and all.
