This is my first time writing any form of a novel, but with a mix of ideas - both erotic and non - I felt this would be a good start to any form of writing career I may one day hope to have.
This is the first of many chapters I hope to unfold - if you like what you read then please let me know! :3
*****
The marshals caught two more today in the Grand Canyon. It seems they're getting better by the day; to my knowledge, I'd say that there were only a hundred or so of us left.
The light of the dying sun has finally faded, though, and the marshals seldom traverse the town in the dark. It gives me some peace, at the very least. I find myself sat at the same table most nights, but more so tonight, having received a telegram from an old friend of mine.
Maraldi Pan.
A gentleman, certainly; has a way with words and his manner is equally as persuasive. I have to laugh, to even think he - out of all of us - would be caught out yet.
Sarsaparilla. Not my ideal beverage, but I suppose I need to make an impression, after all these years. I take a moment to slip off the long trench coat, adjusting my monocle as I lean in.
I hope he likes Sarsaparilla. If I'm going to suffer, he might as well join me.
I set up the individual pieces of ebony and ivory royalty on the board, before taking a deck of cards from my waistcoat pocket. Silver-rim - limited edition, to those who could afford it. A collectible, if you will.
Deck to the side, I feel the follicles at the nape of my neck commence an upward wave before a sudden shiver falls upon me. I glance up - a few of the locals. No sign of Maraldi, though - I wonder if they found him on the wagon trail.
I laugh to myself. There I go again. I have no faith - that's what he would say.
I lean back in the chair, stretching my arms out either side before bringing them up and straightening my hair back. My eyes close. I can't be tired again already - I've practically become nocturnal.
"Not keeping you up, am I?"
Eyes re-open. I feign what sense of dignity remains by sitting back forward. Like nothing had happened. He just smirks at me.
"Silvanus."
"Marzipan."
I smirk.
He removes his bowler and runs his fingers back through his hair, resting his cane against the table as he sits opposite me. It's a lovely cane - mahogany in length, with a silver horse-head for the handle; I fear I may have been gazing at it for too long. His eyebrows are raised.
"There will have to come a day when you can think of something better than 'Marzipan'."
"I'll come up with something better when you change your ill-ridden name to something I can work with."
A brief pause for effect, but I manage to break first. Our laughter seems to fill the room for a few brief moments. His hand reaches out, and I return the gesture - we shake.
"It's been far too long, Silvanus. How have you kept yourself?"
I sip my drink and replace it.
"Well enough, for a nocturnal - better for knowing you managed to make your way here safely."
I scan behind him quickly before returning to his gaze.
"You
did
arrive here safely, didn't you?"
I swear I almost hear a chuckle behind that emotionless grin of his.
"I hardly imagined you of all people would have little faith in me."
He barely makes the last few words out - his hand retreating into his coat pocket, retrieving a brass inhaler. One inhale - hold...exhale. Another; rinse, repeat. I suppose I couldn't deny it - there was a slight doubt. Not that he needed to know that.
"On the contrary, my comrade - I only believed you would arrive a little sooner. All the good stuff has been drunk."
Maraldi picks up his glass, studies it, smells its contents and gives a faint wince before replacing his glass. He sighs - is he bored? I ask him this, but as he shakes his head I merely nod.
It's Chess, but with the addition of tactics; you move a piece and select a card. 2 to 10 counts as nothing, but Jacks, Queens, Kings and Aces will grant you an extra move. I move my first Pawn - I have his attention now, and as he sits forward to study the board I've selected my first card.
7 of Spades - no good to me. His turn. He rests his chin in his hand, caressing the soul patch he's managed to grow religiously over the years I've known him. Moves his first Pawn and draws - Ace of Hearts. He was always much better at this game than I.
"I take it this is your usual spot?"
He also has a surprisingly keen eye. I pry,
"What makes you think that?"
"The table is spotless."
He was right. I hadn't even noticed until now - every speck of dust that coated the seldom walked-upon floorboards, congregating closer to the few surrounding tables whereby no-one would sit - no-one, except for me. I would keep this table clean because I intended to use it. Everything else might as well have been décor.
I congratulate him with a nod, only he's managed to move his first bishop AND draw a King of Diamonds. He moves his bishop once more before taking a sip of the sweet black substance. He draws and smiles.
"4 of Clubs. Your turn, comrade."
I go to move my next piece, before the cool air stiffens my body. Maraldi watches me and stays, for the most part, perfectly still - slowly, his eyes follow mine and glance around to the bar.
Marshals. Fuck.
I slowly lean into the board, but am very much aware that the Marshals may have finally caught up to us. I give a low whisper to beckon him - Maraldi's hand rises slightly to try and listen. They're surprisingly loud for men whose job role requires them to be silent.
"Barkeep! A round of beers over here. We'd like a word, too."
