Appalachian Writer's Guild

Meeting Date: March 12th, 2017 Story Challenge Details: Setting: Any  Characters are Personified Emotions Items: Chalk, Makeup, Strawberries, Feather Next Meeting: April 2nd, 2017 If you would like to join this meeting, please email  appwritersguild@gmail.com -Appalachian Writer's Guild

Blood in the Sand   The thing about being a lawman is that, you never really can stop being a lawman. It may sound like a cliche, but in my experience it's true. Not only are you so set in your ways that you can't help but look for trouble, but dang it if it don't just find you too. I came to Flagstaff Arizona in eighteen ninety to visit a few friends, I was promised a few weeks of relaxing and talking, I needed a break from the Black Watch case, a name with no hard evidence and congressman in his pocket to boot meant that if I didn't take some time off I would have gone mad. The Morrison's had a large plantation, Cattle and Grain as far the eye could see, and staffed by a large amount of black folk that Morrison proudly told me he had offered good pay and good jobs to those trapped in the poverty stricken ruins of old Dixie. In fact he was quite proud of how, like Saul on the road he had seen the light and changed after bandits had taken over our train a few y...

Content Warning: Gore

Meeting Date: February 5th, 2017 Story Challenge Details: Setting: Mystery First Person Items: Apples, Highchair, Shovel, Cards Next Meeting: March 5th, 2017. If you would like to join this meeting, please email  appwritersguild@gmail.com -Appalachian Writer's Guild

 There is a point in every woman’s life when she must make a choice. Are you gonna be stuck up, or fun loving? Are you gonna be someone’s wife or just someone? Are you gonna kill this man, or let him live? The choice is pretty obvious sometimes. I ain’t no man’s wife, I ain’t got it in me. And I sure as hell ain’t stuck up. I grew up too poor to be stuck up now. So that leaves only one question to be answered. Am I gonna kill this man or not? He’s whimpering, begging for his life. I reckon at this juncture, he’s figured out who I am, and what I do. The infamy is nice, makes me feel important, but it comes at a cost. With my face plastered to every post from here to Colorado, it makes everyday life more of a chore. Can’t even sleep in peace most nights. But it makes animals like this one whimper at the sight of me. I’ve worked long and hard to get a reputation as an outlaw, now it’s time to finish what I came here for. “Jeremiah Barlow, good to see ya again,” my ...

The Last Train to Santa Fe “You know I remember when you Chinamen were building this railroad.” Ah told the short little man sitting across from me, he smiled and gave a laugh. “I am proud of our work,” He replied, in his funny accent. Ah nodded. “Well whatever you did, you did right enough I'd say.” Ah replied, point'n to his tailored suit. “Ah'd say better than me.” “This is land of opportunity remember? But I say same to you, nothing not noble about a lawman.” Ah nodded, “Ah like to think that, but after what I've seen, sometimes I wonder....” The Chinaman nodded. “Those on front line against evil, often most exposed to it. Mr. Mercer, you see things, so that others may not have to.” “That one of your Confucius sayings?” “No, that is Ling Zhou, myself's wisdom.” “Why do y'all have such weird names? What's wrong with a good Christian name like John?” “I think you should have Zhongwen name, in my home I would call you....” He paused ...

It’s high noon, and i stand face to face with the most wanted man in all the united states of america, his grim visage pinned to a cactus nearby, a bounty underneath it reading, “Wanted, dead or alive. Abraham lincoln. Reward, One hundred thousand dollars.” I locked eyes with the former president, his stare filled with determination and i knew that both of us had too much at stake to die here, I could tell that much just from the cut of his jaw and how he was already grabbing his implements of destruction. I steeled myself, focusing my reflexes and my reactions for the trial to come. I may have just been some punk bounty hunter coming after the great and terrible Lincoln, but I sure as hell wasn’t going without a fight. A small bead of sweat trickled down my forehead, i’d like to believe it was the midday heat, but I knew deep down that even my efforts to calm myself hadn’t stopped my nerves, this was a life or death situation after all. And to his credit, lincoln had no...