Controlling the Action

Author's Note: For a writing exercise, we had to make a writing piece with only one action, starting with what Mr. J put. My part is in red.

The saloon grew quiet as Carl stood away from the brass rail and looked to his left where the Sheriff was poised, arm extended to draw his colt .45 with the flick of his wrist. The citizens of Tumbleweed were prepared for violence, they were constantly living in a state of fear as was most of Arizona in 1885.

Carl drew a long puff of his cigarette, and flicked the butt of into the crowd of what was destined to be witnesses to one more death, one more needless act of violence, one more scar on the soul of Tumbleweed.

As the smoke rose from the shrinking cigarette, Johnny realized that this was not his world that he should be living in, but it was. He could've had fame and fortune, if he wouldn't have made that one mistake-- the mistake that changed his life forever.

Johnny was an up and coming football player at his local university, and in his freshman year, he had been the star player. He had also come close so to winning the most prestigious award possible. The night after he came within reach of it, he had his first drink. The fallout that happened after that was catastrophic. He became a drunk, and had to go into rehab, his NFL stock fell from first round pick, and maybe even first overall pick, to "should we even draft this guy?" When he came out of rehab, America had moved past Johnny Football, and hooked onto to another young player that had risen to stardom.

 Sitting in this old western bar, Johnny watched the fight with little intent, this is what his life had become, sitting in a bar with a bunch of drunk cowboys watching them match wits? He was disappointed in himself. Without turning his attention to the fight, he heard a loud BANG, and the bar did the best thing it could do. Silence.