Drifter of the World

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“What is your name, boy?” The old man bellowed. The boy with green eyes glared at him and replied,

“Drifter.”

The meadow was cool and touched by the morning dew. The morning country-side town of Blue Arbor was still sleeping. The old man stood ten yards away from the teenager, with a double-barrel in his hands.

“The police are looking for a boy who looks like you. Said he killed a family. Sorry, boy, but you look a lot like the boy on the news.”

Drifter closed his eyes and looked to the ground. He felt like a stone of gold. Everyone came after him just to get their hands on money. It was a waste of their time.

“I’m not the boy you’re looking for,” Drifter solemnly said, “I haven’t killed anybody.”

“Regardless, you’re coming with me to the station. Time to face hell.” The old man said.

Drifter opened his eyes showing his bright look. A young fire was starting to burn inside the boy. He was furious by the changes he was undergoing. How many people would come after this ex-innocent boy?

Drifter reached behind his back and pulled a pistol and pointed it to the old man.

“You’re the one that’s going to face hell.” He boldly said. The old man dropped his barrels and put his hands up in the air. He sighed and stared down the boy.

“What joy do you get from killing?”

“I don’t get any joy. I was never a killer before any of this.”

“Tell me your story.”

“If I do, I want you to take it with you and share it with all the other people I killed.

“…Deal.”





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