Bang! Bang!

I thought I had escaped. The noise of his boots cut through the silence that surrounded me. I turned my head around to see his old, worn out hat sliding down, shadowing his face. His eyes were deep holes, burying down to his skull, staring at me. His shabby jacket smelled heavily of cigarette smoke and whiskey. He held his guns with great confidence, like nothing he could do, could go wrong. His skin red and rough from the elements of the earth around him. His bread was like brown grass sprouting from his cheeks. His eyebrows were like two cateripillars crossed over his eyes, raising slightly as they glazed my way. His jeans were worn and dirty, hanging from his waist. He cornered me against a barrel and the gun was held to my face.