17 September 2018
Drip… Drip… Drip… the water; well do we call it water, was forming a sort of slough in the concrete floor of the forsaken place. This place was palpable when seen from the outside. It was made from the dark a crooked mind of a mad man, who somehow, had gained power within the United Planets of the Galaxy, wow they are horrible at naming things… Huh, where was I… oh now I remember… That man is unimportant right now. All you need to know is that he was given authority to build the galaxy’s first and only Dyson Sphere prison. The Dyson Sphere was meant to provide and harvest energy by surrounding a star completely in a mostly, metal structure, collecting the energy from the star. Hehehe… this tangible place was designed for something good and marvelous, but now it reeked of corpses and lost dreams. Ahh, sometimes you can hear the cries of the children who made, and see the tears of their mothers. When this happens you know you are going mad. MmmmwwuUUUHAHAHAHA!!! AND BLOODY MAD I BECAME!!!!! Now I will tell you how I, a simple, affable person became a, well you will see my friend… you will see…
I was a ranger from Arizona but when I was young I was brought up by a rich English couple. I now live in Texas on a small farm with my daughter. I was on the veranda humming a sweet song, waiting for the cab to take me to the train station, when my ardent daughter looked up at me and said, “Please, don’t go.”
I emphatically explained why I had to go. I then saw the cab and looked at my daughter and said, “Take this.”
“What am I supposed to do with this?”
“You will know,” then I quickly got into the cab, and left. What a huge mistake…
The job was plain as day. It was similar to a get in and get out job. I was to travel to a small town in Texas, and kill an outlaw. He was a vicious killer, but only twenty-four years old.
This was not just any outlaw; outlaw had the audacity to call himself Texas Red after the outlaw in the song Big Iron by Marty Robbins. I had brought my big iron, or my gun, which ever floats your boat, with me in a black case. I soon arrived at the train station.
After boarding the train, it started heading north toward the town of Agua Fria, where the last known location of Texas Red was seen. The only issue is that the town had no train station, so I would just take a horse probably to the small town. The train ride was long and showed the beautiful Texas landscape. My… my… my, I grew very intimate with that landscape, for it was my friend. The ride was very ennui when it came to the people on board. The people would come across as vivacious, but I did not want to discuss anything with them, especially what I did for a living. Many people would look at me with disgust in their eyes and words were not that much better. Their words were filled with contemptuous, as they compared me to a hunter of men. I would simply quote some famous person, and to put the conversation at rest, I would punctuate my words with outrageous gesticulation. The people who questioned me always spoke with a low vehement voice when discussing what I do… well what I did. THIS IS IRRELEVANT!!!
The train stopped and I got off and walk perhaps half a block when a man came up to me and tried to rob me. I asked “don’t you feel scruple to robbing me?”
His reply was snobby, and he punctuated each word with a look that was soon to be his last. “No… I don’t feel… scruply.”
“Scruple.” I calmly replied.
“Well that!!!” he shouted while trying to take my black case.
“I would not have done that” I said, while he tried to attack me with a knife and plasma pistol.
“Why, old man??? Huh, HUH???””Because of this”
Later I had read in the new that they had found a body of a young man, who’s seemed to have died from being burned with a plasma pistol. I kept telling myself it was in self-defense, but was it truly.
I had found a horse and I rode from the south side of Agua Fria. It was early in the morning and I did not talk to the folks around. No one dared to ask my business, no one dared to make a mistake, because I had a Big Iron, now on my hip. I found the outlaw, and his pistol had notches on the handle, one and nineteen more.
It was not long before Texas Red had figured out I had come for him. Alive or maybe dead, it does not matter to me. Texas Red met me in the center of the town. There were only twenty feet between us, and the residence of the town hid behind their windows and doors. My aim was deadly, and Texas Red had made one fatal error. He tried to make my swiftness, which he was now dead for trying.
I climbed on my horse and started to ride away when a group of people approached me in dark, black suits and rather nice ties. They told me they took my daughter into custody, and told me that if I did not go with them I would never see her again. I complied with their wish.
I woke up in a prison cell. The ground was different. Not the material, no. it was not on Earth or a planet… I was sent to the Dyson Sphere for a reason that is unimportant. TELL THEM… FINE!!! It was because they thought that I was to dangerous.