(Thursday prompts)
Wanted
A lone figure, stood silently on a grassy mound, fingers flicking his hefty belt buckle. The open air teased him, carrying the fragmented hoots and cheers of the small crowd gathered at the rodeo ring. He was between rides, groin aching, but he would get back on, one more time.
Sitting atop a bucking bronc, the world slowed for a brief second, the crowd blurring.....and then the clang of the blot releasing the gate and motion returned. Circling, heaving, his concentration was poor this time and in seconds he was biting dust, scrambling to the gate, to safety.
He walked swiftly away from the ring, avoiding stares. Taking off his boots in the stalls a piece of newsprint loosely tacked to a flaky bulletin board caught his eye.
Sheep Herders req. immediate start - Brokeback Mountain.
The battered black tow-truck skidded away from the frail farmhouse. A tear in the old woman's eye. Dad took another sip of coffee and turned back to his paper.
The boy disappeared into the distance.