![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
perfectworrytitle: Blessed Are The Kings Who Have Left Their Thrones
fandom: Dark Tower
community:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
writerverse
prompt: Phase #06: Challenge #22: Of Fandoms and Fiction
word count: 277
rating: G
summary: "The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed."
notes: This story is a few months old, but I found it again today and thought I might share it here.
The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed. Over sand and under sky, the man in black fled across the desert and the gunslinger followed.
In Las Vegas and in the Mojave Desert, they called him the walkin' dude but out here in the Mojane he was the runnin' dude. His black shor'boots sunk in sand dunes and damn near clattered across stone plateaus, kicking up dust behind him and chasing the mirage that shimmered on the plains ahead.
("Remember, the word is nineteen.")
The gunslinger, mother-murdering son-of-a-bitch, believed that he pursued the man in black, but in this nineteen step square-dance, Roland wore a red hanky tied 'round his neck on the right and the man in black wore left-tied blue while ka played the fiddle and we all say thankya.
Somewhere, at every end of every earth, exists a Tower. Towards this lynchpin, called Etz haChayim by some and Etz haDaat tov V'ra by others, the man in black and the gunslinger raced in an endless game of mother-may-I-yes-you-may. And once they arrived in the fields of roses, Can'-ka no rey, they would chase each other to the highest room in the tallest tower like princes in a fairy story. This was ka and they were tet.
"Shall we tell the truth then, you and I?"
"I thought we had been."
The man in black fled across the desert and the gunslinger followed in time to fate's own fiddle until they reached the Tower or died trying.
("Death, gunslinger, but not for you.")
fandom: Dark Tower
community:
writerverseprompt: Phase #06: Challenge #22: Of Fandoms and Fiction
word count: 277
rating: G
summary: "The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed."
notes: This story is a few months old, but I found it again today and thought I might share it here.
The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed. Over sand and under sky, the man in black fled across the desert and the gunslinger followed.
In Las Vegas and in the Mojave Desert, they called him the walkin' dude but out here in the Mojane he was the runnin' dude. His black shor'boots sunk in sand dunes and damn near clattered across stone plateaus, kicking up dust behind him and chasing the mirage that shimmered on the plains ahead.
("Remember, the word is nineteen.")
The gunslinger, mother-murdering son-of-a-bitch, believed that he pursued the man in black, but in this nineteen step square-dance, Roland wore a red hanky tied 'round his neck on the right and the man in black wore left-tied blue while ka played the fiddle and we all say thankya.
Somewhere, at every end of every earth, exists a Tower. Towards this lynchpin, called Etz haChayim by some and Etz haDaat tov V'ra by others, the man in black and the gunslinger raced in an endless game of mother-may-I-yes-you-may. And once they arrived in the fields of roses, Can'-ka no rey, they would chase each other to the highest room in the tallest tower like princes in a fairy story. This was ka and they were tet.
"Shall we tell the truth then, you and I?"
"I thought we had been."
The man in black fled across the desert and the gunslinger followed in time to fate's own fiddle until they reached the Tower or died trying.
("Death, gunslinger, but not for you.")
