Departure – The Dusty Miller Chronicles: Chapter I

Not knowing what else to do, Dusty poured himself a neat scotch and stared.  Longing for this moment nearly his entire life, he was clueless, a little scared even, as to where to from here.

He decided to do something he hadn’t done in 20 years, get stinkin’ drunk!

His “new” living room was plain and simple, just a bare wooden floor, a wood-burning stove that was cranking out some major heat, an old, tattered oriental rug, a shelf full of books, his guitar and his favorite leather chair upon which he was perched.

There was no phone, no Internet, no electricity, none of the modern-day necessities, just a cabin made of wood and the bare necessities as if he took a trip through time and ended up in the 19th Century.

There he sat in the middle of the room.  He contemplated long and hard on what his next move should be.

“I did it,” he uttered out loud.

“Now what?”

“I left it all behind,” he thought.  “All my life of doing and going and pleasing others is behind me and all I want to do now is, well, nothing.”

There were three other rooms, a kitchen, a storage room, and a bedroom, but he had no interest in them at this time.  His bottle of booze and a fully stoked fire was all he wanted.

He took his first sip and his stomach warmed and his head buzzed.

“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout!” he exclaimed loudly.

He looked at his rifles and shotguns hanging on the wall.  Next to them hung his utility knife the only thing left over from his military days.

“Tomorrow, we hunt,” he said with a grin suddenly feeling a primal desire to kill something.

He opened a can of beans and inhaled them like a cowboy on the trail.  After that, he sat back in his chair and passed out, “tits up” as they say.  Getting to this point, Dusty thought he was at the end of his journey.

In reality, his journey was just beginning.

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