Pocket Epoch

A very short story about 3 pages that I had a lot of fun with.

         The sound of boots was heard outside the bar; the sun slowly going down.  There across the plains a reddish glow of light pierces the sky.  Where the door way covers the sunset, a vast amount of light pours into the bar. Standing outside the door a man is silhouetted by the light, he pushes the small doors and enters the bar.  The sounds of heavy cowboy boots are heard every time his foot falls to the floor.  Men and women talk amongst each other, but none of them are unaware of the appearance of the new stranger in their midst.  He stands tall with a long black coat that over emphasizes his shoulders length.  A large black hat sits on his head, a handkerchief covers his face, it's the color of crimson red blood.  In his coat you can see the handles of pistols, many pistols, more than two.  His eyes draw a lot of attention, he has dark brown eyes but one of them is almost bleach white.  There are two large scars that run across his white eye, they curve toward his left ear.  The stranger sits at the bar with a thud, and a low rumble of a deep voice emerges from behind the red handkerchief.  

"Just some whiskey, please", he said.
"Coming right up", said the bartender.  His hands shook a little; the stranger was intimidating, reminding him of other customers that tore up his bar years back.  A short plump balding man he was, he grabbed a bottle and a cup and poured in the whisky.

"That's good, leave the bottle".

The bartender left the bottle and scurried off as fast as he could.  The stranger sat and just drank to himself.  A small weasel like man with no hair came through the doorway, he had large glasses and a vest.  Most people would mistake him for a banker, even though he would sadly tell them he was a tailor.  The man held his hat between his hands; he was fidgeting with it nervously.  Slowly approaching the bar his eyes came upon the stranger, his body stopped all at once as if he were paralyzed.  Twisting his hat he nodded his head, not making eye contact he slowly approached the bar sitting next to the stranger.  His hands shaking as he laid them on the bar, he quickly hid them underneath.  

"Your late".

"Yes I know, there was t-t-t-t-traffic".

"Bullshit", the stranger said grabbing the weasel mans arm; he jumped in his seat.  "I know why you were late, don't lie to me.  Now where is it, bring to the table what you promised".
"I can't, Blived…..
"Don't say my name"!
Blived said with a growl that could scare a lion, he began to squeeze the man's arm tighter.  The hand began to grow white and soon it will be nothing more than a broken twig.  
"All right all right Ill show you, but you have to understand if anything happens I am not held responsible".
"Yes yes now give me what you promised".
He freed his arm from Blived and reached into his pocket and pulled out a pocket watch, it had a gold trim.  Blived snatched it from his hands and immediately began to exam it.  The hands on the clock stopped and began to move the opposite direction at a rapid pace.  A knob at the top of the clock began to extend from the device as the hands moved faster and faster.
"Blived I warned you", the weasel man said began to shift in his seat.
The knob extended and then stopped all at once at the sound of a quite 'ding'.  The hands stopped moving and the knob retracted, simultaneously a strange noise erupted from the watch, it wasn't loud but was strange enough to catch some attention.  The sound resembled a mouse screaming as its head was being crushed by a cat, it was horrible.  The strangest part was the noise seemed to flow in a precise direction; it flowed toward the bar tender hitting him in the face.  The fat bald man went from nervous to fidgety to nothing, he relaxed and his facial muscles and loosened his body.  It was as if he was dead, just hanging there in the air like a doll.  
"That's it I'm out of here", said the weasel man as he made for the door.  
The bar tender sprung back to life all at once and stared at Blived.  Blived stuck his hand in his coat and reached for his revolver.  The bar tender grabbed his arm, preventing him from pulling it out of his coat.  He then grabbed Blived's neck choking him and keeping him still.  The eyes of the bar tender rolled up in his sockets, they then popped out of his skull hanging by the threads.  His teeth began to move, they spaced far apart, the gums themselves thickened into strange yellowish protrusions.  His head began to move toward the ceiling, as his neck grew longer, the blue veins in his neck became blue snakes.  The bar tenders hand turned into a claw, which pierced Blived's hand, he yelled in pain as he grabbed his revolver with his right hand.  Pulling it out with a quick stroke he began to fire at the bar tender, his teeth had grown pointy and separated like a shark.  Five bullets left the pistol and penetrated deep into the body of the bar tender.  Everyone in the bar screamed and began to run out.  The Bar Tender was unmoved by the damage that Blived had tried to cause him, he bit down on his pistol holding hand.  
"AHHH you son of a b***h," Blived screamed.  Looking down at his hands not only were there four very deep bite marks but they were steaming as if the teeth themselves were boiling. Blived felt the pain at once and jumped back cradling his arm, he ran for the door.  The bar tender jumped out from behind the bar, he stood 7 and half feet high since his neck had extended.  His mouth had grown in size showing even more teeth then before, his hands had turned into large claws that with a swipe would make you bleed.  Strange thick hair grew out of his back ripping his shirt, the eyes still dangled outside his eye sockets.  Red foam poured out of his mouth as he stood like a gorilla and screamed a loud high pitch scream.  Blived saw where his pistol fell, it was underneath the chair.  Moving as quickly as he could he drew his sword with his right hand and slashed at the face of the creature, one of the eyeballs fell to the floor.  A cut was vivid on the face but the bar tender still did not stir.  Someone had left their lit cigarette on the table; Blived grabbed a bottle of whisky from behind the bar and smashed it beneath the creatures' feet.  It looked down distracted by the new noise.  Then he grabbed the lit cigarette and flicked it to the whisky puddle.  Jumping back for the reaction he waited, nothing happened.  The cigarette actually had gone out when it hit the puddle.
"AH f**k," said Blived.  The creature ran at him and hit him with its arms he fell backward breaking a chair as he fell.  One of the legs was broken away from the chair and very sharp.  Blived tore it off and stabbed it into the creature, it screamed in pain and took a couple of steps back.  Taking the opportunity Blived jumped for his pistol, grabbing it he swung around.  Facing the creature head on he fired everything he could.  Screaming in pain it fell backward drooling, as it's short life ended, taking the poor nervous bar tender with it.  Blived stood up taking his hat off and wiping his brow.  Holstering his pistol he turned around and walked out the door, looking at his hand.  It was bleeding now, fast and dangerously.  Taking his handkerchief he wrapped it up hoping to restrict the blood flow.

People stood in the streets screaming as he exited the bar, they covered their faces with handkerchiefs as a strange odor filled the air.  Blived held the pocket watch in his hand, slipping it into his coat pocket.  As he approached his horse he noticed everyone wasn't moving.  They were all staring at him, as if he had a knife in his back or even a bomb in his pocket.  Blived stopped moving and turned around, a cowboy of some sort stood in the road with two pistols in two holsters.  Not an average looking guy, along with the two pistols he had two swords attached to his belt.  A blue handkerchief covered his face, and a small pointy hat with a red feather sticking out of it like some sort of strange Rooster.  What lay on the ground before him was the small weasel man, blood leaked from his cranium.  Blived felt nothing, for he felt it was unjust what this man did but felt nothing for the weasel man.
"You have something, something that simple words cannot obtain".
"Your going to hurt yourself boy, you don't know what your dealing with", said Blived.
"Boy I am not, man I am not, duel me and we'll see the true owner".
"So be it", said Blived as he walked toward the road.
People cowered inside their little stores and shops, watching with intense curiosity of what would happen next between the two figures.  They stood facing each other with guns at the ready, nothing stirred.  Not even the exhale of a near by peasant who watched like a dog at dinner.  They did not blink, than as if time was cut short they both drew and fired.  Blived took four shots to the chest; the other man took four in the chest and one in the arm.  Falling to the ground his arm bracing himself as he kneeled the stranger attacked.  Drawing both of his swords and screeching like a Mohawk Indian the stranger leaped at him.  Drawing his sword Blived defended himself vigorously with smooth agility.  The creature was fast but Blived was keen and twisted his sword.  Cutting the strangers left hand he dropped the stranger dropped his sword, Blived caught it and twirled it in the air as he slashed the stranger in the shoulder.  They ran at each other, Blived took a kick to the chest; not so good after being shot he fell to the ground in pain.  The stranger ran and stabbed the ground where Blived was only a few moments before.  Twirling his knife Blived stabbed the stranger in the back, he screamed and fell to the ground.  
"Who are you"?
"I am that you fit a fancy of inscrutable divaricating of ones power".
"What are you saying", Blived tore the handkerchief off his face.  There was a face but it looked like a reptilian vulture, the eyes were black.  The neck was naked and pink full of wrinkles lining the entirety of it, the beak long and black with white teeth sticking out.  Feathers and purple scales were scattered all over the face of the creature, red blood poured out of its mouth.
"Who are you, tell me"!!
"I am the Secret you lost", and with that the black eyes of the creature rolled up and death came upon it.
Blived stood looking down at the creature, reaching in his pocket for the pocket watch.  Looking at it intensely, it was not just an object but also a power.  Walking to his horse he jumped unto the saddle and road down the street.  The cowering peasants slowly poked their heads out of their doors and windows as Blived road into the sunset, riding off to a world where answers wouldn't be as painful to receive, and to understand.