Running on Empty Contest Entries

ROE 2: Story #1 - Last Act of a Lonely Man

PROMPT: Create a story that utilizes two genres.


LAST ACT OF A LONELY MAN (Western / Noir

Noir is a term used primarily to describe stylish crime dramas, particularly those that emphasize cynical attitudes and sexual motivations. Popular elements include flawed protagonists that become fall guys, convoluted storylines, crime (usually murder), femme fatales, chiaroscuro lighting, flashbacks, first-person perspective, etc.)

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How ironic. My ancestors left Japan to give our family a chance at survival, and here I am generations later, the last of my family line about to die on the same ground they fled so long ago.

The Meltdown forced the Japanese to flee in order to survive. The island we had called home for millennia was about to be ravaged by a reactor leak turned full-blown nuclear catastrophe. The fortunate ones were able to leave, spread to other parts of the world, and only recently returned home, looking to rebuild upon the earth that they had abandoned.

But like any unsettled wilderness, post-Meltdown Japan was a lawless land ruled by those with the strength to enforce their will. Frontier settlements had sprung up, much like those of the American West. And here I was, about to bleed to death among the ruins of New Kyoto. I had been left for dead and the wild dogs that overran the area were waiting for their meal to hurry up and die. After one had taken a sizeable bite out of my leg and gotten a good kick to the ribs for his trouble, the rest decided to wait for the inevitable. We all knew it was only a matter of time.

In retrospect, I never should have listened to Mika. I was just a solitary wanderer, passing through New Kyoto on my way to Tokyo. New Kyoto wasn’t any different than any of the other frontier towns; each had its own law and its own politics; I’d learned long ago that the best way to move through these towns was to keep your head down, your nose clean and – above all – not get involved with the locals.

Mika was a different story, though. I knew that the minute our eyes met across the bar top as she poured me a glass of sake. She was a looker, that much was obvious, but there was also something in her eyes; a depth of character tinged with a hint of danger. I wondered how many men she had seduced with a word, a glance. I figured I wasn’t the first.

And yet I fell for her all the same. There’s something about an alluring, beautiful woman that a man just can’t refuse, especially when she tells you she needs your help. She kept me at the bar until closing and, when all the patrons left, she told me about Katsuo, the local sheriff that ruled New Kyoto with an iron fist. And about how the townspeople were oppressed and terrified; how he had locked up her brother Takeshi for advocating a democratic approach to government.

Maybe it was the booze, maybe it was the way she kept brushing her hand against mine; letting it linger longer and longer each time as she gazed into my eyes. It was probably both, and I found myself agreeing to help free Takeshi from his imprisonment.


It was a gloomy night, a light fog rolling in from the nearby lake, cloaking everything in murky haze. Torch lamps gave the mist an ethereal yellow glow as I crept toward the old pre-Meltdown warehouse that had been converted into the Sheriff’s office and holding cells. I didn’t have any experience with breaking and entering, or springing someone from jail, but Mika told me the place would be empty and I figured it couldn’t be too difficult.

Of course, it would have been less difficult if I hadn’t forced the door and found Katsuo and his men at the office, waiting in ambush.

“There are two ways to resolve this,” Katsuo said as I still tried to figure out just what had gone wrong. “You can rot in a cell until I feel like you’ve served your time, or we can sort it out once and for all with a showdown.”

Looking at the sad souls in the cells, I decided I’d rather take my chances with the duel. I was pretty good with my gun, and Katsuo was getting up there in age and seemed like he’d be a little slow on the draw.

Katsuo and his deputies ushered me to the ruined outskirts of town, where the buildings hadn’t begun renovation and were little more than skeletons of their former selves. We checked our weapons, went over the rules, and took our places down the street.

My fingertips danced across the handle of my gun as we both waited for the deputy to yell “draw.” I took a wide stance, a deep breath, and tried to steady my nerves.

So much happened in the next few moments that I can’t be entirely sure of the order.

There was a gunshot.

The deputy yelled, “DRAW!”

A rumbling crash.

Excruciating pain.

The world seemed to be in slow motion as I looked around ... at Katsuo and his smoking revolver, at the blood oozing out of the hole in my gut, at my own gun, not even out of the holster. At all the deputies, turning their heads toward the sound of that rumbling crash, and the flames rising from the direction of the jailhouse.

As the world sped up once again, I collapsed onto the dirt. The deputies ran toward the jail while Katsuo started to follow, then changed his mind and approached me, as I coughed and choked on the ground.

“You’re either really brave or really stupid to duel with the fasted draw in Japan. Then again, I’m willing to bet she probably didn’t tell you that. And thanks to you, she diverted our attention long enough to spring her brother ... Takeshi the mass murderer. He killed three dozen people before we finally brought him in last time.”

Katsuo shook his head sadly and hurried after his deputies, leaving me in the throes of death among the ruins of the city ... with the realization that I had gotten myself killed for a manipulative beauty and her bloodthirsty killer of a brother.