Rocket Hall

His long legs had a gentle gait as he neared the end of the dock, his cowboy boots making a solid ka-klunk as he slowed to a stop. The moon was glistening angrily off the long barrel of his Freedom Arms single shot handgun. "It don't seem ta me like you're from 'round here. Y'ever been to Wyoming before?" He leans his head down, his black cowboy hat covering most of his face. Earlier that day, this was the last place you thought you'd be on a Friday night at the end of summer. Words didn't come easily as you thought about how you could possibly get yourself out of this mess. Even still, you could tell his accent was only a crude [[immitation|IMMITATE]].

"TALK, TOMAHAWK! You better let me know soon!" You hear the rocks beneath the cars' tires almost crackling to a stop. I better get this over with quick, you think to yourself... Whatever this is. Mustering a snare, you shout, "The axe is my weapon!" "And I choose my [[gun| GUN]]!" he cackles back. "Hah haahh!"

"SPEAK, SABERTOOTH! You better let me know soon!" You hear the rocks beneath the cars' tires almost crackling to a stop. I better get this over with quick, you think to yourself... Whatever this is. Mustering a snare, you shout, "The sword is my weapon!" "And I choose my [[gun| GUN]]!" he shouts back at you.

"SQUEEL, SANDO! You better let me know soon!" You hear the rocks beneath the cars' tires almost crackling to a stop. I better get this over with quick, you think to yourself... Whatever this is. Mustering a snare, you half jokingly shout, "This sandwich is my weapon!" "And I choose my [[gun| GUN]]!" he shouts back at you.

Before you can take another step you hear the whip-crack and its the echo around the lagoon. Time seems to stop as your right leg strains to keep you up, your left leg crumpling beneath you. You fall backwards. You see the blood below you. You see the blood spattered onto the dock behind you. You see the blood slowly dripping into the lake. You see the door of the car opening at the other end of the dock. And then you see [[nothing| NOTHING]].

This concludes Episode One. Click [[here|http://ianmcd.nl/]] for more of my work and for updates regarding Episode Two. ©ianmcdonell 2015

"Not really," you mutter. He glances up at you. "We don't see your type around here much." My type? What does he mean? How can a business student in his junior year even be considered to fit into a type? And WHY is he concerned about my type. It's not like he even knows me. He's the phony. What is this all about anyway? At last you reply, "I'm not here by choice." A sideways grin stretches across his face. "Yeeh, I thought so. So what brings ya out ta this part o'the wilderness then?" -"I'm here because I got into a [[fight|FIGHT]] during a snowboarding trip last winter." -"I'm here because my mom's [[dating|DATE]] a guy here and she wanted us to come see what it's like on a real live farm."

"There were more of us than there were of him... and after a few too many drinks, things got a little carried away. Anyway, he ended up in the hospital for a couple weeks. You can imagine he wasn't too happy about that. You know. Petty stuff." "Sounds like a bit o' child's play ta me," said the stranger. "It could be a whole lot worse. And y'know it might end up a whole lot worse at this rate. What'd you follow me down here for anyway?" "I saw that look you gave me at the diner. The note on the bill you left had these coordinates on it. I thought you wanted me [[down here|HERE]]. Not just anyone knows how to follow latitude and longitude coordinates."

I looked back over my should to see a pair of headlights coming down the thin cliffside road with metal music blaring from blown out speakers. "Then you musta also saw the way I looked at the waitriss!" he hissed, his speech quickening. He was beginning to sound a little Irish. "It never occured to ya that it mighta been fer her eyes only? Now boy... I'm gonna give you one chance. You see I got this big purdy pal o'mine right here." He holds the gun up and brings it back down, patting it on the side of his leg. Leaning forward, he shakes his head and continues, "I've got one shot, boy. You really screwed up this time. BUT. I'm a man o'faith. And I'm gonna gi' you one more shot, too. [[So what'll it be?|CHOICE]]"

"I wasn't coming to see the farm so much as I was coming to make sure my mom wasn't hooking up with a total kook. He's not such a bad guy after all. In fact, he's the one who recommended the restaurant where I first saw you." "You mean ta say the place where you first stuck your nose inta my business." You continue, "Well, if that's what you wanna call it, I guess so. The way you were talking to the waittress I figured there was gonna be a party down here. For smart folks. You know. Not everyone knows what [[latitude and longitude|HERE]] are."

"PREACH, PISOLERO! You better let me know soon!" You hear the rocks beneath the cars' tires almost crackling to a stop. I better get this over with quick, you think to yourself... Whatever this is. Mustering a snare, you shout, "The gun is my weapon!" "And I choose my [[gun| GUN]]!" he shouts back at you.

Rocket Hall, Episode 1

ianmcdonell.com

He nods towards a boat tied to the dock. Only now you notice the metal inside that glistens so similarly to the metal in his hand. "You're asking me to choose?" you ask in slight disbelief. "Are you asking me to defend myself??" "I already told ya the terms. But really, it's all gonna go down the same either way. And ya better hurry't up." Again he nods toward the cliffs where the car is now navigating the potholes on the dirt road leading to the dock. Regaining your attention, you lean over the edge of the dock to see what it is he's left in there for you. Inside on the bottom of the little rowboat you first see the red-wrapped handle of a [[tomahawk|TAWK]]; then you see the long, classic looking [[sabre|SWORD]], and lastly your eyes land upon a masterly crafted, victorian era [[pistol|PISTOL]]. Strangely, you also notice a half-eaten and presumably wet [[sandwich|HAM]] near the back of the boat.