cowboy | Teen Ink

cowboy

May 13, 2011
By Sorla_the_Space_Cowboy GOLD, Boston, Massachusetts
Sorla_the_Space_Cowboy GOLD, Boston, Massachusetts
19 articles 0 photos 19 comments

Favorite Quote:
“Sometimes if you want to see a change for the better, you have to take things into your own hands.” - Clint Eastwood
"I never lie. I believe everything I say, so it's not a lie." - Mark Wahlberg
"I just want to be pure"- Jim Carroll


The boy sat down with a faint smile on his face. What a bunch of hicks. So far he had passed through ten miles of corn fields and had seen enough horses and tractors for a lifetime. He ordered coffee because he wasn’t really hungry. In the corner of the room he was able to observe everyone else, but no one was being the least bit interesting. He missed New York, where there was always something going on, but soon he would be in California and away from the endless desert. He was around eighteen, give or take a few years, the boy had lost track himself. When your alone, age doesn’t matter. His name didn’t even matter anymore, he never told anyone his name, not that he remembered it himself. He was dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a beat up leather jacket. His hair was light brown and overgrown, streaked gold by the countless hours in the sun. He was sickly looking and thin, with cold blue eyes. Needless to say, he wasn’t handsome, but people, women especially, were attracted to his charm. As he began to doze off, loud voices jolted him back to reality. Fights were interesting, so he looked over eagerly, but they were just yelling, so he turned back to his coffee. Soon the men were too loud to ignore. “Where could Kathleen be? We looked everywhere!”They were arguing about a girl, he had seen many fights start with girls, but something was off. “How come we haven’t found her yet, Jesse!”
“We will. Your causing a scene.” The really loud man was athletic and dark, the other tall and tow-headed. Watching these men bickering was strange, and whenever anything unusual happened, the boy laughed. So he laughed from the corner, and the men stopped. The loud man angrily crossed the room. “What’s so funny, kid?” The boy giggled.
“You are.” He looked livid and his face slowly turned red.
“Come on now, Robert.” The Tow-headed one pleaded.
“Yeah, come on, Robert.” The boy echoed.
“Listen, Cowboy!” Robert said, leaning in close to the boy’s face. “I’m in no mood to deal with a little b****** right now, so you can go. But say anything else, and…” The boy slugged him as hard as he could. Of all the nicknames he had acquired over the years, Cowboy was by far the worst. Robert fell backward over the chair, spitting blood. The whole room was silent, all eyes on the boy. He loved seeing people in pain. But one thing he hated was attention, he decided it was time to leave. With a grin from ear to ear, he threw down some money and left.

The air was dry and smelt of honeysuckle, it was early evening, and the boy barely noticed. He got back on his motorcycle and left for the main road. With the wind whipping his hair out of his face, he sped up and closed his eyes. He loved fear, and he would do anything to be afraid. Just to feel anything… The young boy walked into the house as quiet as possible. His hair hung over his eyes and he had the overall appearance of neglect. Slowly, he made his way down the hall. The glow of the moon offered light through a window. He let out a sigh of relief when he made it to the end of the hall, then the man grabbed him. He struggled, and was struck across the face. The two of them tumbled to the ground cursing. The boy curled into a ball preparing to get beaten, but something different happened tonight. He stood up to face the man, years of hatred boiling over. The man was strong, but the boy was quick and able to dodge the next blow. A look of excitement shone through his eyes, he reached into his pocket for the switchblade. The next fist coming at his head, he blocked with his forearm and the knife. The man yelped, and the boy couldn’t help but grin. A feeling of euphoria pulsed through his veins when he hurt his father. He loved hurting people. In another minute, the man was slashed to ribbons. The boy was laughing sadistically. He stole his father’s wallet and left him bleeding and dying on the floor…

The crash happened to fast for the boy to register. After he realized he was unscathed, he pulled the motorcycle out of the ditch and brushed himself off. I need to pay attention. He said to himself. Shaking and dizzy, he got on the motorcycle. I’m nervous… he said happily. But a glance at the setting sun told him a different story. He rifled through his pocket and walked into the cornfield. The sun was mesmerizing. Violet, red, orange, and gold blended seamlessly and disappeared behind the blue mountain range. I should get back now. The wind whistling through the stalks of corn was eerie and enticing. Someone’s gonna steal the bike. So far in, he couldn’t see the road, he stopped and stared at the beautiful scenery. Sitting down, he brought out the needle.
“What the hell is that?” He nudged the bike with his boot.
“Someone had a hell of a crash.” They looked at the cornfield.
“See anything?” Robert asked Jesse.
“No” Robert took off into the field with Jesse loping behind him.


Feeling more collected, the boy got up and kept walking into the cornfield. It’s getting dark. He told himself, but for some reason, he had to keep going.


“Look!” Jesse shouted, pointing at a needle on the ground.


Still staring up at the sunset, the boy came crashing down. Cursing, he turned to see what he had tripped over. A girl.


“Hear that!”


She was bleeding and shaking. What should I do? He had a vision of her screaming, and he smiled to himself. But he was to weak to do anything, and a strange feeling washed over him. Sadness? But he wasn’t sad, was he? It was sympathy, and he had felt something. Frowning, He covered her in his coat. Should he get help? Where would he go? So he started to run, in which direction he had no idea.


Robert cocked his gun.


The bullet gripped through his side like ice cold steel, sending him reeling into the dirt. A second one pierced through his shoulder. He had never been in so much pain. Stumbling in agony, he screamed. He finally collapsed while coughing up blood. Lying on his stomach, breathing in earth and dust. He whimpered and tried to stand, but his muscles refused to work.


He threw the jacket aside. “Kathleen?” Robert whispered, shaking her. She groaned and opened her eyes a fraction of an inch. Jesse had caught up to the boy, and scowling, he turned him over. “It’s Cowboy.” Robert looked up. He placed Kathleen on the ground gently.
“I’m gonna kill ‘em.” Robert advanced on the boy, who was staring at the moon unblinking. He kicked him sharply and violently, and the boy yelped. They distinctly heard his ribs crack. His face was white from loss of blood, he turned his head to see his attackers. “Not so tough now, Cowboy.” The boy didn’t respond, he couldn’t. He saw the blood pouring out of him. Blossoming from the wounds like scarlet plumes, sinking into the earth.

He watched as his mother, small and sweet, fed the birds. They were small and sweet, just like her, which is why she loved them more then her own blunt and cruel son. He watched as she stroked their heads, bronze and black. But one was a bright scarlet, he rustled his feathers and glanced at the boy. The boy grinned, two birds with one stone… He waited for his mother to leave, then he approached the birds, still nibbling on the bread. The scarlet one was sitting in the sun with his chest out looking noble and dignified. The boy held some bread in his hand and clicked his tongue. The birds that came, he shooed away with his hand, waiting for the scarlet one. He finally came, scooping the bread in his beak daintily. And the boy quickly slashed his stomach with the switchblade. The bird didn’t even make a peep, there was no time. He placed the bird on the windowsill, outside the kitchen among the daisies and violets. When his mother saw the dead bird, she screamed, like he knew she would. He watched her pack her bags laughing. He liked when people, and animals were in pain. She was astonished at her son’s cruelty, and tired of being beat on by her husband. They were evil, and she couldn’t take anymore. “Two birds with one stone…” He said between fits of laughter, and she burst into tears. He listened to her sob, and leave. He never saw her again, but he didn’t care, he didn’t love...

The author's comments:
I knew someone like Cowboy once, I just wish that someone had helped him, just as I wish someone could help Cowboy.

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This article has 2 comments.


on Jun. 5 2011 at 2:05 am
Garnet77 PLATINUM, Sinagpore, Other
31 articles 6 photos 577 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Everything's a triangle." ~ My mother

"Write what you love, write what you care about, because sometimes, it's the easiest way to be heard."

The tone in this story was really interesting to read. I like how you portrayed this. I think the only problem I found was that a few times you wrote you're as your. Other than that, it was really good :)

on Jun. 4 2011 at 3:50 pm
CarrieAnn13 GOLD, Goodsoil, Other
12 articles 10 photos 1646 comments

Favorite Quote:
"I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by." --Douglas Adams

"The object of life is not to be on the side of the majority, but to escape finding oneself in the ranks of the insane." --Marcus Aurelius

Your story had a very good plot, but in some places, it was confusing.  The ending was really good, though.