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Rated: 18+ · Assignment · Fantasy · #1774941
This is my 2nd assignment for my Sunrise class.
Orignal Draft

Exposition
Rising Action
Climax
Falling Action
Resolution


"Turn yourself in, Dylan." Tyler urged his twin brother; his hand steady on the .45 revolver that rested in its leather holster."Do something right for once!"

He narrowed his eyes at Dylan as they stood on the rippling pasture, encompassing the Walsh family cattle ranch. A herd of gray Longhorns grazed in the distance around the oak trees under the summer sky. The sound of their gentle mooing caught Tyler's attention. He glanced at the strands of black hair escaped Dylan's dusty, cowboy hat while sweat trickled down the his copper cheeks.

Dylan grinned and gestured toward Tyler's pistol.
"Come on, take your hand off the gun. You couldn't shoot your own twin, could you? It would be like shootin' yourself. Just think of all the times I took up for you, you damn coward! Get your hands dirty and take the blame for once. You're thirty-five; ain't it time to pay the fiddler?"

He clutched his gun. "Not goin' to confess to a crime I didn't commit. You know I wasn't the one who robbed that stagecoach! You and that gang were the ones who killed all those people!"

Dylan furrowed his brows, folded his arms, and spat on the ground. "Don't be so damn self-righteous. I know you got religion, but spare me."

Tyler kept his hand on the Colt. "Dang it, where did that gang come from?"

"Some place called Deacon. Why the hell do you care?"

"Why would people tear and bite the meat off a person's bones?"

"Did what I had to!"

"Killin' those poor folks on the stagecoach was terrible enough!"


Dylan dished out a hateful stare with his icy, blue eyes. "Stop your shit! Just remember, Pa left the ranch to you. I'm takin' this place and never turnin' myself in. I'll keep the damn money, and you'll go to jail. Better yet, you'll swing where them little birdies sing!" He pointed to the tree.

Tyler stepped forward and drew his revolver. Dylan recoiled and stepped back, teetering back and forth twice, then vanishing. No trace of him remained, not even his crimson shirt, charcoal pants, or leather boots.

He blinked, then studied the area to his far right. His eyes flashed past the silo and barn. He paced around in a circle and balled up his fist. "Where'd you go? What kind of trick are you pullin'?" The more he searched the field, the harder he breathed he became more panicked. If I get my hands on you, I'll turn you in myself.

The sun blazed down on him as he circled the area. Leavin' just like a coward would. He tugged the navy shirt away from his wet torso and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, wiping the sweat from his forehead. How could a body disappear like that? Last saw him here. Nothin's here but the ground. He bent down to further examine the spot. He peered at several small objects, glinting white in the sun, and bent down to touch them. A gust of wind as strong as a tornado sucked him into a pool of blackness, nose first, tearing the breath from his lungs. Bells chimed in his ears as his body fell into the darkness. After that, the strongest floral scents drifted by his nostrils, and a light in the distance grew larger.


Second Draft

Exposition
Rising Action
Climax
Falling Action
Resolution


"Come on, take your hand off the gun. You couldn't shoot your own twin, could you? It would be like shootin' yourself. Just think of all the times I took up for you, you damn coward! Get your hands dirty and take the blame for once. You're thirty-five; ain't it time to pay the fiddler?" Dylan grinned and gestured toward Tyler's pistol.


"Not goin' to confess to a crime I didn't commit. You know I wasn't the one who robbed that stagecoach! You and that gang were the ones who killed all those people!"Tyler clutched his gun. "Turn yourself in. Do somethin' right for once." He urged his twin, keeping his hand steady on the Colt.

Dylan narrowed his eyes at Tyler as they stood on the rippling pasture, encompassing the Walsh family cattle ranch. A herd of gray Longhorns grazed in the distance around the oak trees under the summer sky. The sound of their gentle mooing caught Dylan's attention. He glanced at the strands of black hair escaped Tyler's dusty, cowboy hat while sweat trickled down the his copper cheeks.

"Don't be so damn self-righteous. I know you got religion, but spare me."Dylan furrowed his brows, folded his arms, and spat on the ground.

"Dang it, where did that gang come from?"Tyler's dark eyes widened as he kept his hand on the revolver.

"Some place called Deacon. Why the hell do you care?"

"Why would people tear and bite the meat off a person's bones?"

"Did what I had to!"

"Killin' those poor folks on the stagecoach was terrible enough!"


"Stop your shit! Just remember, Pa left the ranch to you. I'm takin' this place and never turnin' myself in. I'll keep the damn money, and you'll go to jail. Better yet, you'll swing where them little birdies sing!" He pointed to the tree.
Dylan dished out a hateful stare.

Dylan stepped forward and drew his .45. Tyler recoiled and stepped back, teetering back and forth twice, then vanishing. No trace of him remained, not even his navy shirt, brown pants, or leather boots.

He blinked, then studied the area to his far right. His eyes flashed past the silo and barn. He paced around in a circle and balled up his fist. "Where'd you go? What kind of trick are you pullin'?" The more he searched the field, the harder he breathed as he tromped around the field. If I get my hands on you, I'll turn you in myself.

The sun blazed down on him as he circled the area. Leavin' just like a coward would. He tugged the crimson shirt away from his wet torso and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, wiping the sweat from his forehead. Hell, how could a body disappear like that? Last saw him here. Nothin's here but the damn ground. He bent down to further examine the spot. He peered at several small objects, glinting white in the sun, and bent down to touch them. A gust of wind as strong as a tornado sucked him into a pool of blackness, nose first, tearing the breath from his lungs. Bells chimed in his ears as his body fell into the darkness. After that, the strongest floral scents drifted by his nostrils, and a light in the distance grew larger.

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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1774941