Two men, back-to-back against each other. Two sets of heartbeats, not in sync. One was flushing in confidence and determination, another palpitating in fear and having a skeptical foresight of losing the match, maybe losing his life too. One vast sandy patch of land, far away from the small village, no signs of other life, just a vulture circling above us, waiting for us to duel, to kill, and to be its lunch.
Arid, palms sweaty, both of their weapons were fastened at their belts, a knife and a revolver. The patch of land had nothing in a mile radius, all it had was sand and dread. Counting down the clock, both men lowered their heads slightly, adjusting their cowboys hats respectively, taking steps, distancing themselves from each other, having a mental warfare inside their heads.
Clup, clup, clup, Step by step, both of them were taking their places, ready to duel it out, which weapon would take out one’s life faster than the other. Clup, clup, clup, The knife guy was heaving out breaths of anxiety due to the slim chance of reigning victory over the revolver, he veered his eyeballs around to scan the surroundings, to scheme a better plan to take out his foe.
The revolver guy was collected, to a certain extent, feeling content, he surmised that he would definitely make it fast for the knife guy with a clean shot. Clup, clup, clup, clup. The wind sang a despondent grace, betting on who would be the vulture’s lunch. The sun hung high above the sky, there were no clouds distracting the penetrating heat, both were dripping beads of sweat unto the sandy ground, creating craters soddened with their deepest feelings.
As the stale air gusted once more, the knife guy crouched and turned around, BANG! The confused revolver guy missed his first shot, having to be overconfident, the knife guy took on this oppourtune chance, flung his knife into his direction a heartbeat after the shot, flat-lining another. The vulture immediately dived to savour its lunch.