The Righteous Gun-Man

The full moon shined in all it's glory as an eerie calm took over the Earth, the grey-oak trees swayed to the wind; Amidst the corpses below tiny rats ran,
Nothing mattered to him who rested amidst the graves with his hat over his face and his hands folded; At a rusty corner of the Graveyard in the Ghost Town of Carbon County sat The Righteous Gun-Man.


Dressed in a depressing dark blue overcoat and a boot-cut pair of pants, he adjusted his brown boots as he struggled to stand,
The many scars of his body served as memories to the many battles he had fought for good, the pain they rushed into his soul had always helped him understand.

There always had to be someone above the law, someone above the good and the bad, someone to do what's necessary - his father had told him,
Humanity always needed someone evil so that they could appreciate the purpose of the Good; The people of this town needed someone to stare into Evil's eyes as it stared back grim.

After many a battle and many a fight, The Gun-Slinger of Carbon County realized something that had kept him going, a truth that had kept him alive,
The greatest Demons lie within us, haunting us and threatening us, daring us to live our life to the fullest; It is when we conquer them that we truly learn how to survive.

Stretching both his hands to the tomb-stone on one of the graves, he picked up his gun-holster and rolled it round his waist and began walking amongst the dead,
Jack Slaughter, with every heavy step, thought of the dangerous path that he had lived his days by - The path of destruction that lay ahead.

Fear was a friend that had saved his life a number of times, Fear of his Legend and Fear of the device he had with him : Jack smiled as he kicked the grass encompassing the graveyard like fresh moss,
He ran his hands over his chest as he felt the outline of his greatest ally and also his most fierce weapon - The Axe of The Holy Cross.

Bright and shiny, made out of pure brimstone and shaped like The Holy Cross of Jesus, it worked only when Slaughter wanted it to, it Lived only through his will,
A Cross small enough to fit in a man's palm but out of which arose a huge axe, an axe the length of a sword and an axe that swung around .... only to kill.

While walking, he undid his holster that lay by his hip to remove his pistol and, checking it's bullets, he felt satisfied, The Righteous Gun-Man was all set for the night,
Swirling the gun around his finger he swiftly pushed it back into his pocket and fisted both his hands to go out into the town and do what was right.

With the divine power of The Lord flowing through his veins and with a train of courage wrecking through his heart, somewhere into the night, he heard a wolf howl,
That was his signal; Something devil-ish had struck the town again, something strong and a hard challenger, something demonic had come back with a smell, oh so foul.

Rushing out of the graveyard with the air struggling to throw his hat off his head, he whistled loudly from his lips to call out his ride,
Jumping into the air out of nowhere a stark-black Bull with burning red eyes and sharp claws on it's hooves, landed by his side.

Tapping the back of his partner, Jack Slaughter threw his feet onto the other side of the saddle as he climbed onto his dutiful ally; The beast felt, on her spine his heavy load,
The Destiny he had set out for himself wasn't easy, the salvation he chose to attain wasn't simple and yet, leaving everything behind for The Greater Good; The Righteous Gun Man, out into the night, rode.
3:D

(Though The Gun Man is a figment of my imagination, Carbon County is a real Ghost Town [Ghost Town : An American Town where rumors of ancient ghosts revolve].
I would love to continue writing about Jack Slaughter. Do let me know what you think.)