Runaway Dreams

Sarah Williams didn't get a second to stay dazed and lie on the sidewalk. Her arm was throbbing from the impact with the concrete and thought she may have broken a rib. One thing's for sure, she was going to have a gnarly bruise in the morning. But there were bigger concerns. Realizing what happened, she started to chase him. Sarah pursued this man who was almost a foot taller than her, with a wider stride. She knew that it would be impossible to catch up, but if westerns had taught her anything, it's that the bad guy always loses. 

 As she ran, she thought about how only just a few minutes ago, she had been overflowing with joy.

 She couldn't believe that after five long years, day in and out of waitressing, cleaning people's houses, and being a babysitter on the side, were all worth it. Everyone said she was crazy to drop out of college. Everyone said she'd never open up her own restaurant. Now, she proved them all wrong. She saved enough money to open up the business of her dreams: Sarah's Spatoon.

Risky? Yes. Old-timey? Yes. Weird? Yes. 

But that didn't matter to Sarah. Some girls loved Barbies, others loved "Twilight". Not Sarah. She even learned piano because she loved those movies so much. All those days of childhood spent watching old westerns with her father came to fruition. And boy oh boy, she knew how proud he would've been, jumping up with his gun gestures and challenging her to a fake gunfight that always ended in the two on the floor with roaring laughter. She couldn't help but get sad as a wave of nostalgia took over her at the thought of how happy her father would've been.

At last, after final talks with the failing Luigi's Diner on the corner, she walked down the street with a Disney mentality of dreams really do come true. Her property was perfectly placed on the main road with high foot traffic and a beautiful view of the Verrazano Bridge and Hudson River. She looked at the deed in her hand, and looked up at the sky, smiling as if to say, "See dad, I'm not a damsel in distress anymore." 

As she looked up, she was rammed into and knocked down on the sidewalk. The busy street didn't seem to notice that 1. This woman had slammed into the ground right before their eyes and 2. The man had taken the precious document she had been admiring just before. This was New York though, stranger things have happened.

Sarah pursued him, running as fast as she could. Both Sarah and the thief ignored traffic signals and carried on with the chase. Twice, she almost got hit by a vehicle. Vehicle is the right word because it wasn't some Chevrolet car or an MTA bus. No, she almost got hit by two horse-drawn carriages. 

Sarah was nowhere near Central Park or really any part of Manhattan that would have these fancy tourist rides. She was in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, so the carriages were very out of place. Regardless, she kept running and made a mental note to look into that later.

After following him for ten blocks now, her lungs on fire and chest starting to hurt, the man she chased didn't show any signs of stopping. As they continued onward, she heard piano music begin to play. It wasn't Beethoven or some Elton John song. No, it was definitely the kind she'd listen to in those movies she adored. Sarah started realizing just how weird the past thirty minutes of her life had been. At least this time, she could attribute "Pete's Music Shop" to being the source of the tune she heard as she ran past. 

As the music seemed to intensify even as she got further away from it, Sarah saw that this thief had cornered himself. With a brick wall ahead, she understood he had nowhere left to run. The tall, brunette man with a handlebar mustache turned and finally faced her. 

What she saw before her felt like some kind of fatigue-induced hallucination. But it wasn't. Before her was a man dressed just like a cowboy, even down to the spurs on his boots. She was perplexed at the coincidence between him stealing the deed for her western-themed restaurant and his own appearance. She tried to rationalize what she saw but had no explanation.

The man pulled out a gun. 

"You know the rules lady", he said in a voice with Southern twang. "Ten paces, turn, shoot."

"Wait, this is happening too fast. What century does this guy think he is in? Am I in the Twilight Zone? I don't even have a weapon!" Sarah thought.

As if hearing her thoughts, he took out a second gun, placed it on the ground, and kicked it to her. 

"I am nothing if not an honorable man. Fair fighting is the only kind I do, ya hear? Now no more small talk, get moving. This town ain't big enough for the two of us."

Sarah found herself listening to him, though internally, her brain was screaming to not move. They each took ten paces. Sarah shakily raised the gun, ready to take the shot. That deed was too important to her. Her whole life's work was that flimsy document the cowboy held in his hand. She closed her eyes tight and readied herself to fire the weapon. As she did so, she reminded herself that a hero must always face off against the villain.

It seemed that from when she shut her eyes, and the shot was fired, time slowed down. If someone were watching, they'd see the bullet wisp through the air. Only one of the two, in the end, was able to use the gun. The last thing Sarah heard was the gunshot ringing in her ears.

When she opened her eyes, she got up from the couch with a jolt. The tv was still playing "Penelope Pitstop," on Cartoon Network and five-year-old Susie Cromwell and her three-year-old brother Geroge, clad in little cowboy hats, were fast asleep.