Dust- A collaborative tale

[Moon68]

Feel free to join in...


     It was hot, an oppressive heat that sapped a man's will right out of his body. Lester Thomas sat on the back stoop of the abandoned store, wiping the dust off the back of his neck with a rag dampened from a trickle of water he coaxed from the old claptrap pump. All of his worldly possessions were wrapped in the large bandanna tied to the end of his walking stick, hobo style. It was 1934 Oklahoma, he thought it was still July, maybe early August, he couldn't be sure. Many many miles had passed under the soles of his holey, worn out shoes with many many more ahead. Jester had seen too many of these days in recent memory, hazy and hot, the Sun just an idea lighting up the dust that seemed to permanently hang in the air.

[Martin75]

In the distance, the low rumble of trains echoed through the railyard—an ominous reminder of escape, always just out of reach. Lester had ridden them before, clinging to the wind and the illusion of freedom. But tonight, even the breeze felt hot. Time was slipping through his fingers like sand, and the moment to act was closing in fast.

He had seen them—faces from a past he’d tried to outrun—lurking in the shadows of town. Familiar. Dangerous. He prayed they hadn’t seen him. Trouble wasn’t just a possibility; it was a certainty. It always found him.

Lester rose slowly, every muscle aching, every movement deliberate. He scanned the alley, heart pounding, breath shallow. The silence pressed in around him, broken only by the distant clatter of steel on steel. He stepped forward, each shuffle a gamble, each second a question: What would fate deal him next?[font]   [/font]

[Quantum12]

Lester decided with all this heat he needed to jump on the eastbound train to get some air. He still had a shackle on his left foot from when his father would shackle him to a tree and beat him. As he jumped on the moving coal train the shackle dug in to his skin. After Lester safely made it on the train he wiped away the blood that was running down his foot in to his shoe. 

As Laster stood in the open door of the train he could feel the amazing breeze all over his sweaty face. Lester closed his eyes and was having visions when he was a child on a run away train with his missed parents. 

As Lester was about to jump off of the eastbound train it started speeding up. There was no was he could jump off the train. Lester was stuck until the trains next stop…

[Moon68]

...wherever that may be...St. Louis maybe, or possibly all the way to the coast. It didn't really matter much where you were going when your home is hanging from a walking stick. He snorted loudly, hacking a mouthful of gritty phlegm and sent it sailing out the open door, lost in the wash of the speeding train. Lester turned to find a seat, hopefully out of the red dust, to eat a hardtack biscuit and maybe catch a nap when he noticed that he wasn't alone in the boxcar.

[Oldcarpy2]

Lester was indeed, not alone.

He looked up to stare into the cruelly grinning face of, his father...

[sahgwa]

Shaking his head blearily he realised he had nodded off.  That pile of old sacks of dusty produce in the darkened corner had metamorphosed into the face of his childhood nightmares. 
After all, his father had just died last week.  Kicked in the head by a mule while he was drunk.
Typical.
Lester had taken the chance at freedom and bolted, despite the protestations of his mother and younger siblings. 
The air from the open boxcar smelt like heaven after that dust bowl life.
He spied the buildings of the rail company speeding by , to be replaced by barren dirt fields with lazy oil derricks pumping up and down. 
Nary a soul in sight.
Just then the train whistle hooted loudly and the train started to lose speed...

[Quantum12]

As the train started to slow down he opened the door and saw one amazing city being built. The buildings were massive, he saw hundreds of people rushing around the beautiful city. Lester was only used to smaller cities. He was in shock. 10 min later the train slowly went through Chicago Union Station. The boxcar train did not stop but it was going slow enough for Lester to jump off.

Lester humbled himself and asked a man if he could bum a smoke. As he was smoking and walking along Michigan Ave. he could not believe the sights of amazing massive buildings. Lester was in awe, he was thinking about getting a job for one of the building companies…

[Oldcarpy2]

Lester accepted the smoke and got talking to the guy and walked with him.

"I've got a job for you, if you're interested"?

"Sure.  What's your name"?

"Dillinger. John Dillinger".

[Martin75]

It seems fate has dealt us both a cruel hand, but I may have found a way out.
A friend—Ana—has offered me a chance to move forward, to escape this place. But her help comes at a price.
Before I can take the next step, I must do something for her.
There is a man who lives on the edge of town. No one knows much about him, only that he works late into the night, hammering away at the skeletons of new buildings that rise like monuments to something foreboding. His house stands alone, surrounded by half-finished structures and the eerie hum of machines that never seem to stop.
The air around his property is thick with dust and silence—broken only by the occasional clang of metal or the flicker of a light that never stays on long. Some say he watches from the windows. Others claim he’s armed. All agree: he doesn’t take kindly to visitors.
Ana wants her papers. They’re with him—locked away, she believes, in a drawer he never leaves unattended.
She says those papers hold the key to her past… and to my future.
If I can retrieve them, she promises me a new life. A clean slate.
But the risk is real. And I can’t do it alone.
Lester, I’m asking you—will you help me?
Will you stand with me in the shadows and face whatever waits in that house?
Together, we may yet rewrite our stories… if we survive the night.

[Quantum12]

Lester reflected back on his troubled life, he was thinking about his wasted times drinking and doing nothing with his life. He was thinking about all the times people asked if they could help him sort out life. Lester would get angry easily if someone told him he has a problem. His drinking got so out of control along with a bad temper one night at a local pub 3 men almost beat him to death. The next morning Lester work up in a sewer with broken bones and black eyes. This was a moment of death from drinking or to quit his alcohol and  start living. He chose life and buried the bottle.

Lester looked at Ana and said “let’s go find our new life in that house…”