[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Leave A Story , Leave A Comment - Another Call for Moderators Edition

I wrote this for a [ WP ] yesterday. The thread never got attention, but a few people saw it and really liked it. 
 
 > An outlaw on the run from a relentless sheriff hides out in a monastery over the long winter. It's now spring, the ice has thawed, and the outlaw is preparing for his final stand. 
 
 The outlaw Nolan Mattox sat on the raised base of one of the stone pillars ringing the cloister and cleaned his pistol. The last of the icicles were melting. The water dripped cleanly and pooled on the floor. 
 
 Brother Merrill found him there. The elder monk was silent in his approach. A crow flew down and landed on the courtyard wall. 
 
 “ You mean to do this? ” the monk asked quietly. 
 
 “ The ice melted. Sheriff Carson will be riding through that pass soon. ” 
 
 “ Can you blame him? ” 
 
 “ I don ’ t give a damn either way. ” 
 
 Brother Merrill sighed. He observed the crow perched on the ancient stone cleaning its feathers. “ It ’ s an evil thing you do, Nolan. ” 
 
 Mattox ’ s eyes narrowed. He looked up from his gun for the first time. His face was worn, and vicious. “ Monk, don ’ t start that shit again. ” 
 
 “ And your eternal soul? ” 
 
 “ Pray for your own salvation. I don ’ t need help from God handling a man holding iron on me. ” 
 
 “ If you kill this Sheriff, Nolan, what then? A new man will chase you. Will you kill him, too? ” 
 
 “ If I have to. ” 
 
 “ You need not die to be in Hell, ” the monk said softly. 
 
 The outlaw stood up. “ I ’ ve been hearing this shit from you all winter, ” he said angrily. He towered over the tiny elder. “ You want to talk? Alright. Where the fuck was your God when Apache killed my father? Did He watch with holy pleasure when my brother starved? When my sister froze? God is for rich men and fools. I ’ ve never been either. ” Mattox spat. 
 
 “ Life has never been fair, Nolan, but… ” 
 
 “ You ’ re damn right about that. Your God can ’ t even control this world, and you think he has a handle on the next? Keep the ticket, monk. I don ’ t want His ride. ” 
 
 Mattox leaned down and picked up his gun belt. He strapped it on. 
 
 “ I ’ ve allowed you stay the entire winter, ” Brother Merrill said. “ You won ’ t change your mind? ” 
 
 “ I appreciate the hospitality, but if Carson means to gun me down, I ’ m riding out to meet him. ” A look of contempt passed over his face. “ Your words are fine and flowery, but you hide yourself from the violence of the world in this monastery. A man like you has nothing to say to me. ” 
 
 Brother Merrill looked at him with great sadness, and nodded. “ I ’ ll pray for your soul. ” 
 
 The outlaw rolled his eyes and put on his hat. He walked away, and a grin spread across his face. It felt good to be moving again. He started making plans. Carson was coming through the pass with five or six men. It would be easier if there were only five other men, if he didn ’ t have to reload… 
 
 A gunshot rang out, and Nolan looked down in surprise at the crimson stain spreading on his chest. His legs betrayed him, and he fell. His forehead doubled to the ground and then he knew nothing. 
 
 Brother Merrill kept the little snub-nosed revolver pointed at him for a few seconds, and then his arm started to shake and the gun dropped from his hand. The monk fell to his knees inside the cloister, water from the melting icicles wetting his robes. 
 
 “ Forgive me, ” he said quietly. “ His heart remained frozen. ” 
 
 As spring enclosed the monastery, the crow screamed and flew off into the warmth of the sun.
