Irony by Destiny
How did he end up here, Doc thought for him self looking around in the smoky saloon, noice so loud that he barely could hear him self think. He looked at the other players around the table.
Dirty cowboys, who just rode into town after several weeks of working outdoor. They didn't even have the curtosy of taking a bath before entering a public place, but then again probably nobody but Doc cared even the slightest. Their vocabulary was extremely limited and they had absolutely no idea of how to behave themselves, nor did they care. He decented them with his entire being.
How did he end up here, he looked down him self, upon his flawless taylormade suit. He knew Latin, dentistry and the manners of a gentleman. He was a hounorable man of education and pride, why had it come to this?
Doc, you'd been called, barked the old drunk at his side. Doc came back to the real world and looked straight at the the old barking man. His eyes seemed to pierce right through him and the man quikly looked the other way –just when you are ready, the old man added with a low voice. Doc was known for his hot temper and the old man looked as if he just remembered that.
Well, best get it over with, Doc drawled in his southern accent and laid the cards on the table with a swift move. It was not a good hand and he was certainly not proud of it, but his thoughts seemed to be elsewhere this night.
A sudden coughing fit wracked his thin frame and though it shortly subsided Doc could taste blood. He swallowed and arose from the chair.
I think I will call it a night... gentlemen, with an elegant move he touched the shadow of his hat and bid them a good evening.
Outside in the cool night he coughed again, cursing everything he could think of. His chest filled with pain and he could feel his knees tremble, threatning to give up. With two short breaths and hell of a lot of selfdiciplin he got a hold of him self before wandering down the street, heading for the hotel.
In the eastern horizon he sensed dawn approaching; a new day was coming. It meant he had survived yet another day, but for what? Nothing to live for. No reason to die. Life had an ugly habbit to pull him down in the dirt and keeping him there. He hated his life life with every breath his deteriorating lungs took.
Doc, wait up, a women shouted and Doc turned around a bit taken aback.
Why Kate. I appoligize; I was a bit short headed, Doc said in a careless way, while he took her arm and escorted her. Kate took up with Doc some years ago, but ocasionally she took off somewhere else. What she did Doc didn't know and he never asked. She was a fairly pretty brunette, but she had a very prominent nose, which she apparantly had from her hungarian parents, who was of a noble family. She split up with her family many years ago and learned how to get by on her own. Sometimes that included whoring, but she appeared not to mind about that and besides she always seemed satesfied unless Doc's winnings weren't enough.
Another coughing fit rampaged Doc's lungs and though he tried to supress it, it was slowly draining him for strenght. Normally Kate would have ignored it - Doc wouldn't have her fussing over him, but this one just wouldn't release it's grip on him and he suddenly slowed down his pace.
Doc, what is it?, she asked with worry shakening her voice- what is it. Doc, talk to me. Doc!, she thried to get him to stop, but he was somehow restless. He gave up supressing it and he started coughing violently while a thin line of blood from his mouth dripped on his white shirt.
Kate, what is it? a man on the street asked. Kate turned around and recognized Wyatt Earp, the town marshall and Doc's friend.
He is sick. Something is very wrong, she answered him almost hysterically. Then, before Wyatt could react Doc's strengh gave up and he collapsed in the middle of the street.
In a hurry Wyatt got Doc of the ground and carried him to the hotelroom. It was easily done; Doc was very light and Wyatt was over 6 feet tall. He was worried about his friends condition. Doc's breathing was laboured and it seemed that he had lost another couple of punds during the last week
Doc woke up coughing, feverish, and very pale. He instantly regretted opening his eyes when in the same second a sun beam decided to cast it's merciful light upon him. It was apparently somewhere near mid day. He looked around the room and the sleeping Wyatt in the chair just beside the bed. He sighed; it all seemed so hopeless and no matter what he did it would only get worse from now on. His chest ached and his throat had been ripped to pieces during th night, but at least he could breathe more freely now. He closed his eyes once more. He wasn't affraid of the dark, he feared the light most of all; it's in the light you see your fears.
His own greatest fear was in the mirror.
He looked at Wyatt again; he was so peaceful. But Wyatt had his load of trouble every day; he was the town marshall for this God forsaken town in the middle of nowhere and he had to deal with drunken mad gun happy cowboys every day, when Doc only eased them from their money. Wyatt was also having dificulties in his marriage to Mattie and he was in constant worry about his younger brother, Morgan.
No, there where other, who were far worse of than Doc. No, it was enough with the self pity. He had to get a hold of him self and act like the gentleman he wanted to be.
He stole a deep breath and got out of bed.
Just then he came to realize that he was only playing the cards he was dealt, however unfair they might have been, just like he did at the poker table, but there he was usually successful.
Irony by destiny.
Irony by Destiny
Chasing immortality
to the enevitable end
Rushing through life
Seeking
an endless hunt
only
to be stopped
by death