Of Men And Whores #FridayFictioneers

Photo credit @JHardy Carroll
Photo credit @JHardyCarroll


Of Men and Whores

Max exhaled his guilt into the night air. A soft cry or plea escaped from the saloon window. They had forced their mounts to exhaustion today.

Ridden hard and forgotten, the upstairs doves enjoyed none of the appreciation and reverence reserved for the rider’s horses.

Come mornin’ the rough necks would swagger back to camp, spewing tales of conquest.

Who would tell their stories?

Max cast off his remorse and gathered the stories of the fallen angels; of loveless coupling washed down with strong whiskey and self loathing, of sisters and daughters, and desperation.

There are more stories about Max, The Storyman at WWW.WhatsForDinnerDoc.Com
An Emptiness
Whiskey For My Men
For more Friday Fictioneers tales of 100 words or less go to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ website for instructions and to find other writers to fall in love with.

47 thoughts on “Of Men And Whores #FridayFictioneers

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  1. I love the comparison between compassion for the horses and distaste for the whores. Max may be a character you’ve used before, but he was new to me and as such I found myself wondering exactly where he fits in – the guilt of the first line suggests he’s one of the ‘riders’, but then he doesn’t appear to be forgetting the women as suggested, so I’m not sure.
    Note a typo – upstairs doves (which I love as a description, by the way,) doesn’t need an apostrophe


  2. A disturbing scene. The image of the ‘upstairs doves’ is beautiful – shows them as fragile and vulnerable. I also like the depth of character in Max – he’s one of the guilty ones, but able to ‘cast off his remorse’ and do something to make things better. Telling their stories is a wonderful way to validate the women.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I loved your opening line and thought it set the stage for the rest of the story extremely well. Drugs, alcohol, and derringers were an old west prostitute’s best friends. Not every house was as elegant or strictly ran as the Cheyenne Social Club (my favorite Jimmy Stewart/Henry Fonda movie).

    I thought this was one of your best pieces to date, Tracey. Five stars from me.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. This is so good on so many levels, I don’t know where to begin. I love Max, and the way he tells his stories. If only more men were like him. And women too, because looking down on, and sniffing noses at desperate women who sell their bodies, treating them like dirt, isn’t only a cowboy thing. And sadly, it’s still very much an issue. Great story, Tracey.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. I could just hear Max’s inner conflict, swimming in guilt and torn between these two groups. He sounds like a loner type and a complex character. I can see why you’ve written about him before, Tracey. Great work.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. I followed the link back to your first story about this character, Tracey. This sounds like a true tale of the old West. My dad was an armchair cowboy. I read about the real old West in magazines and saw a lot of western TV shows and movies. Well written. —- Suzanne

    Liked by 1 person

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