"Fortelling of Doom" by Jess Kachine Hickman

He walked into town with a smile on his weathered face. His boots were worn and had holes in the soles. His hatless head was sun burnt under his wind blown hair. His clothing was tattered too. But despite all his apparent troubles, he was smiling, more like grinning, broadly.

He walked down the street, never saying a word. He waved to a few people as he went. Josiah, the shopkeeper; Vin, the bartender; and Chris, the postmaster, all received warm smiles and waves. Several other important towns people also did.

When the stranger walked by the sheriff’s office, he stopped. A frown creased his brow and his deep green eyes held a worried look. He shook his head as he turned to go. The man walked out of town, keeping his head down, no longer smiling. The stranger went back to the desert he had come from.

In a few hours, the man was almost forgotten. He had been a wandering rogue. Someone on his way somewhere important. A pilgrim or a settler perhaps. Whatever he had been, he was forgotten.

Strange things started happening a few days later. Vin, a big guy whom everyone respected, was knocked out in a bar room brawl. Josiah, who was also the town’s priest, was held at gun point while his store was robbed clean. Luckily, he wasn’t hurt. Chris’s foot had been run over by the mail coach when the horses spooked at a harmless dust snake. It had all happened on the same day, with in a few hours of each other occurrence. Also, on that day, the livery stable’s head hand was kicked by one of the horses. He fell and knocked over one of the lamps. The flames caught onto the hay in no time flat.

The fire from the stable spread to the Sheriff’s office nearby. The alarm wen tout and a bucket brigade was formed. They drained all the watering troths trying to douse the flames. The surrounding buildings were saved, but the Sheriff’s office was lost.

While the building was still blazing, the few prisoners stumbled out, coughing and holding their hands in the air. They didn’t want any more trouble.

No one knew where the Sheriff was. He wasn’t there helping to put the fire out. No one had seen him since that after noon.

By the next morning, all that was left of the old office was a pile of rubble. It wasn’t even smoldering anymore.

The towns people got together to sift through the ashes, trying to find anything worth salvaging. Not long after the town coroner was called over. The Sheriff had been found, dead, scorched, but still recognizable, and he had an insane smile plastered across his face.