Summary: Sands in a cantina after walking out on Colt.
Pairings: None. Sands is completely and utterly alone.
Legal Stuff: Robert Rodriguez owns Sands; I simply play in his world.
Sequel to Green.
Smoke was an interesting thing to feel. You couldn't hardly notice it; just a vague rise in temperature, a faint tickling and bristling of the hair on your arms — something hardly to be in awe of. But Sands was. Sands immersed himself in the glorious haze, letting it curl about him and tangle in his hair. This was one of the few comforts he still had.
The acrid smell reminded him of his grandfather. The grandfather that was a lot less 'Sitting Bull' and a lot more 'full of bull' than he would ever let on. But that was neither here nor there; after all, what did Indians have to do with mariachis, mutilation, and Mexico?
The sky was dark — then again, the sky was always dark now, wasn't it? No more dawn, dusk, or in-betweens. Nope. All dark, all dark, all dark, and someone forgot to turn the light on at the end of the tunnel. And if there's no light, what's left but fire? But it's no fun if you can't see the flames licking at your feet. No fun if you can't stare down the Devil and make him cry.
Cry for you because you're a lost cause
Cry because you're evil and your wings have blood on them.
Because Mommy and Daddy liked to chase the dragon.
Because everything you touch shatters and you're broken, too.
Because God and Father Scott loved you too much — but what's a little boy against a gun?
Cry for you because you cannot.
The smoke of a cigarette and the smoke from a gun are two completely different smells. And was the burning in his belly the tequila or did he already pull the trigger? A ghost or human flesh against his cheek?
Sands couldn't tell — it was too dark inside.
Author's Notes: Hello, all. It's me again. What do you think about this one? I greatly appreciate the reviews I got - they were by far the most constructive yet.
This is the sequel/next chapter to Green, and takes place after Sands walks out of the hotel room he shares with Colt. It was a really quick write; maybe an hour. FYI: my stories may be getting fewer and further between now that school has started up again. Sands decided to curl up and whisper this one in my ear, so I couldn't hardly refuse him this one.
Here's to hoping you enjoy it. And as always, leave suggestions and The Muse just might strike again.