It appears there are many things I have not shared with you, for revealing them, I fear, would make you shun me as a holy man shuns vice. It is enough to say I have much to answer for and little time to atone.
My time on this earth is running out, but it is my plan to live on in your recollections. In the best of times, drink to me. In the worst of times, curse me. Your friendship is my most valued possession. Leaving you is regretful. You are a lousy shot.
Farewell my friend,
Friday Fictioneers at Addicted to Purple
Photo Prompt: Copyright Jan Wayne Fields
Word Count: 100
Special thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting Friday Fictioneers
A Little History: John Henry “Doc” Holliday was born in Georgia on August 14, 1851. Holliday earned a D.D.S. degree from the Pennsylvania College of Dental Surgery in 1872. In 1873 he was diagnosed with consumption (tuberculosis) and given three months to live. He moved to the American Southwest hoping the climate would prolong his life.
He set up a dental practice but discovered that gambling was far more lucrative since he had few patients due to his ongoing coughing. He became a gambler and gunman. He met Wyatt Earp in 1878 and their friendship endured until Holliday’s death in 1887, in bed in a hotel in Colorado at the age of 36. Holliday’s cousin by marriage was Margaret Mitchell, who wrote “Gone with the Wind.”