Gold – by Hugh W. Roberts
Heading up the dusty trail, a nine-gallon cowboy hat adorned his head while he wobbled around in spurred boots one size too big; Barry remembered the words of his now-deceased bachelor uncle.
‘The trail leads to gold.’
But where was the gold? There was no gold here, just dust, some of which was dirtying his new boots and making him sneeze.
Just as he was about to give up, a building with flashing signage appeared in the distance where the trail ended. As he walked nearer, he could make out its name – ‘Dusty’s.’
Barry’s heart leapt when he opened the venue’s doors, releasing butterflies into his stomach. A brightly-lit room full of music and cowboys, all line dancing together.
He’d struck gold.
Written for Sunday Stills, hosted by Terri Webster Schrandt – Theme: Yellow/Gold
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