Skin of the desert.
Latest piece of work from Creative Writing, we had to write a descriptive piece, and I think I didn’t put enough in but it’ll do, I’ll see what my feedback says.
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Ella was sat in the inn, she had immediately come here after she had arrived. The town she arrived in, if you could call it that, was compromised of huts and sheets hung on poles, weathered hide and old blankets. There was no walls or a roof at the inn, no cover what so ever, just rope sectioning an area off. A rough painted sign told the patrons, “None of the good stuff beyond the line.” The red paint was peeling and flaking off. Not knowing why, Ella smiled at the sign, then decided it was down to the sense of normality it portrayed, even if most of the customers were on the wrong side of the sign.
Ella went up to the bar and sat down. One of the stool legs was shorter than the other and the bar was sticky with beer in front of her. People crushed her either side, but she didn’t mind and she sighed as she sat down, relieve to be off her feet. The barman, noticing her, tucked his cloth into his apron and walked over.
“Wha’ you on luv.” Said the barman with a really gruff voice.
“Vodka, please honey.” Ella replied.
“Wha’a dear like you doin’ out ‘ere.”
“Travelling.” Ella replied, not giving away any more than that. The barman, noticing she wasn’t up for talking, charged her for her drink, brought it to her and then went back to glass cleaning.
The man to the left of her, a big chap, head full of long flaming red hair, got up next to her, let out a long belch and then left. The seat remained empty for a long while and then up came a man. With a tip of his hat he sat down at the bar and waved the barman over. Ella glanced at his a few times from the corner of her eyes, and stole a few looks as she pretended to look behind her. He was dressed in old combat pants, desert camouflage. On his head sat an old, worn, ranchers hat. He wore a black neck bandana with a strange pattern on it, he pulled this down and knocked back his drink. He was covered in the skin of the desert. Something was special about this man, Ella could tell, he exuded power. But what struck Ella as odd is that no-one else seemed to notice, it was as if she was drawn to him for a reason she didn’t know. And only her.
The mysterious man looked at her whilst she was having a look and met her eyes, embarrassed she blushed and looked forward again, but he did not take his eyes off her and eventually, reluctantly, she looked back.
“Hello Ella, I’m Brandon.”
