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- subject = english-creative writing
- title = The Highwayman
- papers = The Highwayman
-
- Their
- journey to London was not a long one, but in the night, it was a treacherous
- one. A rolling fog covered the land, one couldnÆt see twenty feet ahead, but
- in the still, quiet night, sound carried for a mile. They began their trek
- in the early evening, the sun had yet to dip below the horizon. The passengers
- needed in London, could not wait for the next morning. The stage driver was
- the best to be found, his fee large, but his experience was priceless. He
- was accompanied by another man with a large rifle. The Rifleman had keen eyes
- and his ears were at attention, listening over the horses for oncoming riders;
- for the Highwaymen who prayed on the stages.
- Long after the sun had set,
- not a sound had been heard over the consistent clip-clop of the horses. Their
- hooves hit the dirt road, broadcasting a message for nearly a mile of the nearing
- prey. The sound alerting all the nearby predators to keep a good watch, to
- be ready, for the prize will soon be in their grasp.
- The fog, like a blanket
- spreading it self out on the land, concealed all stars, the only light was
- from a lantern suspended above the stage driver. The passengers nervous, expecting
- to hear shots fired. The jumped at every bump in the road that the wheels
- struck. Clutching their baggage close, they prayed that the night would pass
- quickly.
- The Highwayman, alerted to the approaching stage, was hidden by
- the road, and concealed by the fog, he was not yet able to discern the light
- from the quickly approaching lantern. Clutching his pistol, his only weapon,
- he planned to take all the that he desired from the stage. His family was
- at home, sitting by the fire. His late night occupation provided their home,
- food and clothing. During the day he works in a stable for the nearby English
- noble. Feeding and grooming their horses, only he knows the stable well enough
- to "barrow " a horse. Not every night, but often enough for his family to
- live better than most.
- Passing through a small wooded area, the stage continued
- at its rapid pace, the horses sweating, pulling the large stage coach and its
- five passengers. The Rifleman, ever intent, tenses, telling the driver to
- push the animals even harder. The two horses, running as fast as they can,
- try to comply, but they gain no speed. The passengers, jumping at every bump
- in the road, wishing the ride over, holding fast to the coach, expecting any
- minute for the stage to roll on its side. They were waiting for the Highwayman
- to strike.
- Behind a wall of fog that hides him from the stage, not making
- a sound, he waits. He is waiting for the right moment to ride forth. He knows
- that quickly he will see the light and the stage that brings it. And then
- they will be able to see him.
- His rifle is ready in his arms, ready to rise
- to his shoulder, take aim, and fire. The lantern throws ghostly shadows as
- the coach rushes by the surrounding trees. The experienced eyes of the Rifleman,
- watching everything as it flies by, waits for that movement, that shape, that
- does not belong. He listens to the sound of air rushing past, the sound of
- the horses, listening to their hooves as they strike ground and gulp for air
- in the night. He listens for the sound that does not meld with the others,
- the of beat of a third horse.
- He can see the light now, his anticipation
- building, his heart beating, over powering the sound of the stage, smothering
- the sounds of the horses pulling it. His pistol ready, in his shaking hand.
- His other hand holds the reigns, his feet ready to propel the horse onward,
- to overtake the stage. Waiting for the right moment, waiting to strike.
- The
- Rifleman waits, scanning the forest as it streaks past, his nerves building
- a lump in his throat.
- The Highwayman can now see the stage in its entirety.
- The Rifleman ready, will see him. Now is the time to strike. He is surprised
- at the speed of the coach, the cargo must be must be important.
- The passengers
- pray that they complete the trip, curse the driver for the speed. Not knowing
- of the dangers out side, clutching to each other, they sit on the floor of
- the coach. Scared, they wait for the hellish ride to end.
- Kicking his horse,
- he bursts from his hiding place, flying toward the coach, his pistol raised,
- ready to fire. He banks from left to right as he intercepts the stage. The
- Rifleman raises his weapon, looks down the long barrel at the approaching Highwayman.
- Tracking left to right and aiming at the Highwayman, he glances at his pistol,
- then he centers his rifle on the Highwayman, and hesitates, knowing that he
- has only one shot. Though the pistol at his side reassures him, because should
- he miss, he is not out of the game.
- The Highwayman takes aim with his pistol.
- He looks down the barrel at the Rifleman, his weapon pointing back at him.
- He rides straight, aims, and fires.
- The bench explodes next to the Rifleman
- as a bullet drives it self in to the stage, closely missing him. He continues
- aiming at the bandit, looks him in the eye, breathes out, holds his breath,
- and fires.
- The Highwayman does not feel the bullet enter his chest, so much
- as the force knocking him off his horse. He crashes to the ground, his horse
- riding away in to the night. He lays there dying, breathing in his last breaths,
- says a silent good bye to his family, and the air escapes from his lungs, never
- to return.
- The passengers huddling on the floor of the stage. The gun shots
- scaring them so much, they fear the worst. They begin saying goodbye to each
- other and to their loved ones, as death is imminent. The stage continues.
- The
- stage breaks through the forest on to the plains. The fog lifting, they can
- see the light of the soon to rise sun, though day is still hours a way. London
- is not far, they have completed their journey. The driver slows the horses
- to a gallop. The Rifleman sinks back in the bench, spent. The game is over.
-
- The passengers begin cheering that they have not been killed, and that they
- have reached London unhurt. Relieved and exhausted, they collapse on their
- benches.
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