Apparition of the Sun

A new short story that serves as part of the mythology of another story I haven't finished yet.

Apparition of the Sun
or
The Death of Lefty Fitzsimmons

A myth by
Alexander Nowak

The sun was sinking fast toward the mountains, casting long shadows down Main Street.  It had been a bright, clear day, scorching hot.  The only hint of moisture now a thin layer of clouds in the west and a storm brewing over the mountains to the north, setting the sky ablaze with color.  Oranges, reds and yellows melting into cool indigos and violets overhead.
    I was sweeping the up the shop when he rode into view out of the dust.  The sun was almost directly behind him.  He emerged from the fiery horizon like a shadow from hell, licked on all sides by the ruby rays of sunset.  I crouched behind the store window as I saw him reach the edge of town.  He paused momentarily, then proceeded forward at a deliberate gate.  The blacksmith closed the livery doors.  The reverend crossed himself and ushered wandering souls into the church.  Children hid in the alleyways between buildings, peering expectantly over rain barrels and behind the steps of side staircases.  His gaze never wavered, at all times straight ahead.
    Lefty Fitzsimmons knew he was coming.  He'd been waiting in the saloon since mid-afternoon, taking time with the whores and sucking down whiskey like a horse come out of the desert at a fresh water trough.  Now drunk as sin, Lefty stumbled around the saloon, bullying the piano player and wracking up a heavy bill he'd never pay.
    He had a man watching the street for him, and when he saw the Ghost riding in, Lefty's sentinel fired off a shot from his rifle into the air.  The piano stopped abruptly, as did the din of the crowd inside.  Lefty pushed open the swinging doors and lumbered toward the street.  Even drunk, Lefty was dangerous.  He'd killed at least three men, recently, dead as dust while barely able to stand, he was so sotted.  The Ghost reined his horse and stopped about fifty feet from the saloon.
    Lefty laughed hoarsely and called out, “I been waitin' for you!  I mean to show these lily-livered tripe that you ain't no apparition.  That you ain't from the grave... you're just headin' there.”
    The Ghost said nothing.  He just stared at Lefty dispassionately.
    “Well you gonna come down?” Lefty shouted.  “Fight me proper?”
    The Ghost didn't move.  Lefty gazed drunkenly down the street at his adversary, and for a moment, his face betrayed his fear.  Then, slowly, the Ghost dismounted and walked his horse to the hitching post, wrapping the reins around it.  Lefty smiled, a cocksure grin, burning with whiskey.  The Ghost walked back to the middle of the street and faced Lefty square.
    “I've been waitin' for this,” said Lefty.  “I knew they'd want you.”
    The Ghost stood still and silent.  The air hung heavy and low, stifling in the utter absence of a breeze.  Lefty let out a snort, then whistled.  Three more men made their presence known, cocking rifles.  One from behind the tank of the water tower.  Another on the roof of the jail.  And the last on the hotel balcony back down the street.  Lefty spit and licked his lips.  His sentinel chuckled and walked out to stand beside him, grinning with menace from ear to ear.
    Suddenly, the Ghost drew a pistol from beneath his duster and put a hole through the sentinel's chest.  He spun back to the left and landed face down in the dirt.  Lefty, shocked at the speed of the kill, turned to look down at the sentinel's body, then whipped around to face the Ghost again, who had already re-holstered his pistol.  Lefty's eyes glistened with a mix of rage and alarm.
    “Shoot that son of a bitch!” he called out to his men, his voice breaking.
    I ducked lower to the ground as the shooting started, peering around the doorjamb.  A rain of bullets skipped around the Ghost, dust exploding off the street.  Slowly and steadily, the Ghost re-drew his pistol and aimed carefully.  He shot the man on the jail roof first.  His body fell past my window facing the alley and landed with a thud.  Next was the man on the water tower, who ended up seated on the platform, his back to the tank.  The last man on the hotel balcony emptied his rifle's magazine as the Ghost turned on his heel and fired a shot through his throat.  He crashed through an upstairs window.
    The Ghost had his back turned when Lefty pulled his pistol and aimed.  He fired once.  The bullet caught the Ghost square in the back, shocking the dust from his coat.  The Ghost didn't move.  Lefty sneered and waited for him to fall, but he never did.  I could scarcely believe it when the Ghost spun around and faced Lefty down again.  Lefty's face turned to ash, his eyes wide with terror.
    “I hit him,” he mumbled at first.  Then, “I hit him!  I know I did!”
    Lefty started shooting again, wildly, until the gunshots turned to metallic clicks.
    “No!” he screamed.  “I hit you!  You should be dead!  You should be –”
    The Ghost raised his pistol and squeezed the trigger.  The bullet stopped Lefty in mid-sentence, striking him between the eyes and blowing a hole in the back of his head.  He crumpled to the ground like a rag doll and landed, one arm flopping out to his side, the other curling inward to his chest.  The Ghost stood motionless for a moment, then holstered his pistol and retrieved his horse.  He rode off silently in the same direction he came in, the sun a mere sliver on the ridge of the mountains, the western sky a blood crimson.
    As I watched him ride away, the first crack of thunder from the storm coming out of the north rumbled long and low.  I walked out in the street, where a crowd was gathering around Lefty's body.  I made my way to the bullet-pocked circle where the Ghost had been standing.  There was no blood in the dirt.  Not a drop.  I walked up the street and regarded Lefty's corpse.  His head rested in a halo of blood, his face forever frozen in the horror of his sudden death.  I turned around and caught one final glimpse of the Ghost before he disappeared, a tall, black stripe dissolving into the shadows of twilight.

Last edited by Al (Wed Apr 14 10 7:25 pm)