The Stranger

Charlie walked with a little joy to his step, feeling the small pouch within his coat pocket. The coins inside were clinking, and the amount now in that poach was enough to keep his family going for a long time during the winter.

He was not expecting to make a huge sale at the market, but everyone wanted to buy a coat for the tough winter ahead. He did not think that the rich folk would consider his hand—made coats worthy, but many praised his craftmanship and bought the coat anyway.

Charlie felt a shockwave go through his body when he counted the money he now had. A whole $40. It was more than enough to keep his family well—fed during the winter. He had no more coats left; it was a miracle that he didn’t need to bring any back home.

The journey would be much easier than he thought.

All Charlie had to do was drag the wagon behind him, with nothing inside. His wife told him he should have taken the train to go back home, but he loved to walk through the woods.

He had loved nature since he was a child, and he hoped that once his son was old enough, he would love to go camping with him in these woods.

While he was lost in his daydream of him and his son fishing together, Charlie stopped in his tracks when he the sound of a gun being cocked.

He looked to his right and saw a man pointing a gun at him. He was dressed like a cowboy, who was obviously an outlaw, and he knew he was one, judging by the mask he had wrapped around his nose and mouth. Two others were by his side, appearing on his left.

Charlie let go of his wagon, putting his hands in the air.

“Listen to me fellas. I don’t have anything. I’m passing by -’’

“You came from the market, didn’t you?,” the one on the right asked.

“N — No. I told you. I’m passing by.”

One of the men laughed.

“Bullshit. We saw you selling a bunch of coats to the rich folk. It’s not easy to rob people at the market. Then we spotted you traveling on your own, and we decided to follow you. Now you’re going to hand over that money that you kept in that pouch of yours. We watched you stick the coins inside.”

Charlie’s heart sank. The image of the shocked and happy faces of his wife and young son vanished from his mind. He wouldn’t be able to bring back good news for them. However, his family wouldn’t want him to get hurt. It would destroy them, and he couldn’t imagine their sorrow.

Charlie bowed his head in defeat and removed the pouch from his coat. He reluctantly handed it over to the cowboy on the right. The man snatched the money from him, a look of shock on his face.

“Shit. I thought we were going to have to fight you for it.”

Charlie did not look up. It was best to not say a word. He heard the man swing the pouch, the $40 moving inside.

“How much is in here, old man?,” the man asked.

“$40,” Charlie said softly.

One of the men whistled.

“We can finally have a good meal to eat —’’

A loud blast made Charlie gasp, and red flew from the man holding the pouch. The man collapsed, and a pool of blood was now forming beneath him. He had been shot in the neck.

“JOEL!” one of the men shrieked.

Charlie looked up to find a man coming toward them. He was wearing a blue suit, with a fedora hat. He was holding a gun, pointing it in their direction. Before Charlie could process what the hell was happening, the man aimed in his direction. Charlie shut his eyes, preparing for death.

The gun was fired twice, and he waited for the pain.

It never came, and he heard two thumps behind him. He opened his eyes, realizing that the stranger had shot the other two men. The stranger reached the man who had stolen his money. He bent down to retrieve the money pouch. He went up to Charlie, the pouch in hand.

Charlie took the money back in a daze.

“Don’t tell anyone about what you saw. Not even your family.”

Charlie did not dare question how this man even knew about his personal life; he merely began his walk back home. He dragged the wagon behind him, and he never looked back. He thought of his family face’s when he got back home, and it helped him cope with what he witnessed.

The stranger waited until Charlie was gone. He waited until he was only a speck in the distance. The stranger bent down to check the first man he shot. He was no longer alive. The stranger put the gun in his back pocket and took out a knife that was stashed in his boot.

He stabbed the blade into the man’s head and started to cut open the scalp. The stranger pulled back the scalp, and then with his bare hands, he removed the top of his skull. He licked his lips when he saw the pink brain.

The stranger used the knife to cut off a chunk of the brain. He shoved the fleshy bits into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully; his eyes closed in ecstasy. The brain had always been his favorite part.

He finished eating his meal, and then he moved on to the next body. Then the next. Once he was completely finished, he stood up. There was blood on his hands and mouth, but he did not care.

It didn’t matter if anyone saw him.

All that mattered was that his appetite was satisfied.

The stranger continued his journey back to wherever he came from, humming to himself.

Thank you for reading!

Emy Quinn