AWOL: A Character Lost by Anthony Renfro

objects appeared at the character’s feet as he held the hat in his hand.
    “Next, a belt and belt buckle, with two holsters on each side, six shooters like all the cowboys had back then.”
    He put the hat on his head and picked up the gun belt. “Will I really need these?”
    “I just don’t know, but my hunches are telling me that there is something foul behind that door. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t like it. I want you to be armed, just in case.”
    “But, I didn’t die in the zombie story when the truck crushed me, so why would I need to worry about anything harming me in this one?”
    “I want you to start out with every possible advantage you can have, just in case, and also, you might be home in the next story, so you need to start out fully prepared because you can die if it is your home story.”
    “Got it,” the character replied, reading the flashing words.
    “Go ahead and get dressed so you can get started, and remember, I don’t know if you know how to use those guns, so be careful.”
    While the character dressed, he talked to me, trying to find closure from the last story he was in. “You know that was a pretty shitty thing to do to Becky, after all she did for me.”
    “Those vampires were lethal, she just met her match.”
    “I know, but I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye. You could have at least had me go down there and find her.”
    “I guess I could have written a scene like that, but it seemed like it would have slowed down the pace.”
    “It would have been the honorable thing to do.” He finished dressing and put on his hat. “What happened at the end of the last story, with the guy dead at the door? What was that all about?”
    “You mean the two guys guarding the stable?”
    “One was dead in the doorway, and the other guy was nowhere to be seen. What happened out there?”
    “What happened was that the vampires came up on them, and both men fought them till bravely. In the fight, they killed the vampires, but both men were so badly wounded one bled to death; and the other guy wandered up to the door for help, but bled out before he could find it.”
    “Nice, real pleasant stuff there,” the character replied.
    “I try to have a happy ending, but sometimes the story doesn’t warrant it.”
    “Did you eat a lot of glue when you were a kid?”
    “No. I just have an over-active imagination,” I replied.
    “By the way, those werewolves were a bit much. Don’t you think?”
    “I’m just trying to think outside the box.”
    The character looked himself up and down once he was finished. “What do you think?”
    “You’re no Clint Eastwood, but you’ll do.”
    “Thanks for the confidence.”
    “So you do know who Clint Eastwood is?”
    “I know a lot of stuff. Surprised how much I knew in the last story, but I just can’t remember my home,” the character replied.
    “You’ll get there.”
    “I guess I’m off then.”
    “Yep, good luck.”
    “Thanks,” the character replied, opening the door on a warm, dark, moonless night. Tumbleweed went rolling by as he stepped through the door and closed it. The door shut, and I was all alone again.
    “What to do now?” I thought about it for a moment. I could take the car in for an oil change, take my son for a walk, make some lunch, maybe work on that blog post I have wanted . . . “Wait, I’m writing this. I thought I was thinking about it. Please, go on to the next chapter. Never mind me. I’m shutting it down now.”

Goodnight Killer 1
    High Midnight
    Cottonwood Springs, Arizona.
    *
    The character appeared out of thin air in the center of an Old West town. The night was dark and dusty with a thick blanket of sand and dirt hanging in the air. The sky above, moonless, was littered with bright stars for as far as the eye could see.
    The road he was standing on ran through the center of a town. This road was small, barely big enough for two lanes, barely big enough for anything to pass going in