The Stranger

I've been a shadowy, ethereal figure since I've been back in Idaho, keeping minimal profile and hiding my presence from nearly everyone. I feel like a stranger here, one who knows the crushing right hand of the law is after him, waiting...waiting for him to slip up and reveal his whereabouts. Thus I live like a refugee, taking up disguise after disguise and only going out to the most unlikely of locations in this dusty, one-horse town. Johnny Law may have his damnable sights set on me...I can almost see him now: tin star glinting in the setting sun, spurs spinning pointlessly in the gathering wind, ten-gallon hat filled with 12 gallons of malice, white horse hiding his villianous persona. But here's the thing, though: he's too real, too bounded to catch a spectre like me, one born to the wrong side of the bloody tracks. He's still searching, for me, for himself, but he's bound to fail, I'll never be bound by law.