Some times dreams just offer a peek at the story waiting around the bend...
“There’s no truth to the rumors that Rounder Jon escaped from the clutches of the Sand People,” I said loudly. I’d been listening to the three men at the bar argue and debate the stories and rumors that surrounded the old tide runner for over an hour.
“What was that?” The youngest and loudest of them assaulted me with his question. Bad enough that a simple bartender would put himself into the middle of their important business. But, to dismiss the whole purpose of their conversation?
“What would you know about it.. friend?” He demanded.
“I said, There’s no truth to it. The Jonny Man never escaped from the Sand People.” I turned my attention to ragging off a bit of spilled beer farther down the bar. “I should know," I said. "I was there, and saw the whole thing.”
I worked my rag in a circle across the dark red grain of the old wood surface. It didn’t take long. The three of them rearranged themselves into new positions, coming to rest in front of me.
The gent I judged to be the elder statesman of the group was in the center now. He looked side to side, at his companions, and then his gaze settled on mine.
Not taking my eyes from his, I listened to the soft thump and subtle ring of a gold piece as it was pinned between the wood and his meaty palm.
“Another round for the three of us, and one for yourself, if you’re a’mind,” he said. I could see a faint spark of humor in his eyes.
“And, you can keep the change if you’ll tell us your tale.”
A Tale of Rounder Jon... (with no idea where it's going next.)
I'll let you know when it takes me somewhere.