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A Man Called Saint
Chapter One: The Stranger
The town of Ashton Hill was the kind of place where everyone knew everyone else’s business. Nestled in a valley and surrounded by rolling hills, it was a picturesque, if not somewhat sleepy, community. Life moved at a leisurely pace, and the most exciting events were the annual pie contest and the occasional high school football game. That all changed the day Saint arrived.
The sun had just begun its ascent, casting a golden hue over the town, when the bell above the door of the local diner chimed softly. The regulars, engrossed in their morning routines, barely noticed the new arrival at first. But as the man stepped inside, a hush fell over the room. He was tall, with a rugged, weather-beaten face that spoke of years spent braving the elements. His clothes were simple yet meticulously clean, and his eyes—sharp, piercing, and grey as a storm—seemed to take in everything at once.
Emily, the young waitress who had worked at the diner since she was sixteen, felt a chill of intrigue as she approached him. “Morning, sir. What can I get for you?”
“Just coffee. Black,” he replied, his voice low and calm, like a river running deep.
She poured his coffee, her curiosity piqued by his presence. Strangers were rare in Ashton Hill, and this one carried an air of mystery that was almost palpable. “Passing through?” she asked, trying to sound casual.
“Something like that,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee and offering no further explanation.
By midday, the news of the stranger had spread through the town like wildfire. Whispers followed him wherever he went. Who was he? Where had he come from? And, most importantly, what did he want in Ashton Hill? Theories abounded—some said he was a drifter, others speculated he was on the run from something—or someone.
Sheriff Carter, a stern yet fair man with a keen sense of justice, decided it was time to introduce himself. He found the stranger still in the diner, sitting at a corner table, a half-eaten sandwich in front of him. The sheriff pulled up a chair and sat down without waiting for an invitation.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked, his tone friendly but firm.
The man looked up, his expression unreadable. “Go ahead.”
“Folks around here get a bit uneasy when they see a new face, especially one as unfamiliar as yours,” Sheriff Carter said, leaning back in his chair.
“I’m not here to cause any trouble,” the man replied evenly.
“Good to hear. But you understand, people will want to know who you are and why you’re here,” the sheriff pressed.
The man took another sip of his coffee before responding. “I’m just a man with some unfinished business.”
Before the sheriff could inquire further, the diner’s door swung open with a crash. Tommy, a notorious troublemaker in his late twenties, swaggered in. His eyes immediately locked onto the stranger, a predatory grin spreading across his face.
“Hey there, stranger,” Tommy called out, loud enough for the entire diner to hear. “You lost or something?”
The man remained seated, his calm demeanor unbroken. “Just having a meal.”
Tommy approached, his grin turning into a sneer. “We don’t take kindly to drifters around here. Maybe you should move along.”
The diner’s patrons watched with bated breath, the tension palpable. The stranger set his cup down and rose to his feet, his movements slow and deliberate. “I’m not looking for trouble.”
Tommy laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “Maybe trouble’s looking for you.”
Without warning, Tommy grabbed the stranger’s cup and threw it to the floor, shattering it into a dozen pieces. The room went silent, all eyes on the unfolding drama. The stranger’s face remained impassive, his gaze fixed on Tommy.
“Pick it up,” he said quietly, his voice carrying an undeniable authority.
Tommy hesitated, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected response. At that moment, Sheriff Carter stepped in, placing a firm hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “That’s enough, Tommy. Leave the man be.”
Grumbling, Tommy backed off, casting one last hostile glance at the stranger before storming out. The sheriff turned to the man, his expression softening slightly. “We don’t want any trouble here.”
The man nodded. “Neither do I.”
As the sun set over Ashton Hill, casting long shadows across the town, the man stood at the edge of the road, looking out over the horizon. Emily, who had watched the entire scene unfold from behind the counter, couldn’t suppress her curiosity any longer. She approached him, her steps tentative.
“Why are you here, really?” she asked softly.
The man’s gaze remained fixed on the distant hills, his eyes reflecting a mix of sorrow and determination. “I have unfinished business,” he repeated, his voice tinged with a sadness that made Emily’s heart ache.
And so, the man called Saint remained an enigma, his presence in Ashton Hill stirring up more questions than answers. But as the days turned into weeks, it became clear that his arrival was far from a coincidence, and that the quiet town would never be the same again.
To be continued...
© Word Crafter
The town of Ashton Hill was the kind of place where everyone knew everyone else’s business. Nestled in a valley and surrounded by rolling hills, it was a picturesque, if not somewhat sleepy, community. Life moved at a leisurely pace, and the most exciting events were the annual pie contest and the occasional high school football game. That all changed the day Saint arrived.
The sun had just begun its ascent, casting a golden hue over the town, when the bell above the door of the local diner chimed softly. The regulars, engrossed in their morning routines, barely noticed the new arrival at first. But as the man stepped inside, a hush fell over the room. He was tall, with a rugged, weather-beaten face that spoke of years spent braving the elements. His clothes were simple yet meticulously clean, and his eyes—sharp, piercing, and grey as a storm—seemed to take in everything at once.
Emily, the young waitress who had worked at the diner since she was sixteen, felt a chill of intrigue as she approached him. “Morning, sir. What can I get for you?”
“Just coffee. Black,” he replied, his voice low and calm, like a river running deep.
She poured his coffee, her curiosity piqued by his presence. Strangers were rare in Ashton Hill, and this one carried an air of mystery that was almost palpable. “Passing through?” she asked, trying to sound casual.
“Something like that,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee and offering no further explanation.
By midday, the news of the stranger had spread through the town like wildfire. Whispers followed him wherever he went. Who was he? Where had he come from? And, most importantly, what did he want in Ashton Hill? Theories abounded—some said he was a drifter, others speculated he was on the run from something—or someone.
Sheriff Carter, a stern yet fair man with a keen sense of justice, decided it was time to introduce himself. He found the stranger still in the diner, sitting at a corner table, a half-eaten sandwich in front of him. The sheriff pulled up a chair and sat down without waiting for an invitation.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked, his tone friendly but firm.
The man looked up, his expression unreadable. “Go ahead.”
“Folks around here get a bit uneasy when they see a new face, especially one as unfamiliar as yours,” Sheriff Carter said, leaning back in his chair.
“I’m not here to cause any trouble,” the man replied evenly.
“Good to hear. But you understand, people will want to know who you are and why you’re here,” the sheriff pressed.
The man took another sip of his coffee before responding. “I’m just a man with some unfinished business.”
Before the sheriff could inquire further, the diner’s door swung open with a crash. Tommy, a notorious troublemaker in his late twenties, swaggered in. His eyes immediately locked onto the stranger, a predatory grin spreading across his face.
“Hey there, stranger,” Tommy called out, loud enough for the entire diner to hear. “You lost or something?”
The man remained seated, his calm demeanor unbroken. “Just having a meal.”
Tommy approached, his grin turning into a sneer. “We don’t take kindly to drifters around here. Maybe you should move along.”
The diner’s patrons watched with bated breath, the tension palpable. The stranger set his cup down and rose to his feet, his movements slow and deliberate. “I’m not looking for trouble.”
Tommy laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “Maybe trouble’s looking for you.”
Without warning, Tommy grabbed the stranger’s cup and threw it to the floor, shattering it into a dozen pieces. The room went silent, all eyes on the unfolding drama. The stranger’s face remained impassive, his gaze fixed on Tommy.
“Pick it up,” he said quietly, his voice carrying an undeniable authority.
Tommy hesitated, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected response. At that moment, Sheriff Carter stepped in, placing a firm hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “That’s enough, Tommy. Leave the man be.”
Grumbling, Tommy backed off, casting one last hostile glance at the stranger before storming out. The sheriff turned to the man, his expression softening slightly. “We don’t want any trouble here.”
The man nodded. “Neither do I.”
As the sun set over Ashton Hill, casting long shadows across the town, the man stood at the edge of the road, looking out over the horizon. Emily, who had watched the entire scene unfold from behind the counter, couldn’t suppress her curiosity any longer. She approached him, her steps tentative.
“Why are you here, really?” she asked softly.
The man’s gaze remained fixed on the distant hills, his eyes reflecting a mix of sorrow and determination. “I have unfinished business,” he repeated, his voice tinged with a sadness that made Emily’s heart ache.
And so, the man called Saint remained an enigma, his presence in Ashton Hill stirring up more questions than answers. But as the days turned into weeks, it became clear that his arrival was far from a coincidence, and that the quiet town would never be the same again.
To be continued...
© Word Crafter
