In the shady forest of savanna the sun was shining which seemed very hot but beautiful at the same time. Filled with brownish green grass with very few trees. Under the Fillicium tree, there is a 19 year old young man, with his left leg tucked into his right leg who sits casually, slings a banjo on top of his leg and sings while playing the banjo and the harmonica into his mouth which he sounds as accompaniment to the banjo. "Oh Sussana, don't you cry for me. I come from Blackwater with a banjo on my knee." His voice was very melodious, really tenor even though his Adam's apple was very thick so it would be very painful if hit by someone. His appearance was like an outlaw in general, with a slight modification of a light brown coat, a red bandana covering his chest, with a striped T-shirt with shape patterns -have a coherent Mexican style. At that time we were in Mexico City to enjoy very sweet mangoes with very good genetics. Likewise with the view of the steep hills which are very challenging. It is not uncommon to hear the story of a driver. personal horse or cart driver who drove here and there for a fee of 5 dollars per 1KM. I don't know how to measure it. But often seen the coachman looks carefully at a black-gray compass. Not the original color is a combination of black and gray, but mixed with dust. Mexico's exotic Rockin Bobbin desert. It looks like they have an affinity for bun objects darling that savior of life. Unlike the knight in the floats, he really enjoyed incline after incline, turn after incline which was very steep and sharp without any fear and shaking at all. Indeed, the people around him have seen him like a person having fun without a clear purpose and direction in life. All day long all he did was ride a horse colored a mixture of light brown, dark brown and white so that people licked their lips. Not because they have sexual attraction to animals, but the color is like coffee combined with milk. So tantalizing! A follower of Extential Nihilistic. A mysterious observer in a black coat with a white shirt and a circus hat with a magic wand flicked his bushy mustache with his beloved wand. It seems that he is very interested in that person. The mysterious man is called "Mysterio" because his whereabouts are a mystery. It could be on a cliff with a height of 8 meters, then jump, then the next day appear in the same place. Really confusing! On the banjo, which is held like a sword while riding its horse, named Milfee, which is a combination of the words "Milk" and "Coffee", there is a definite scratch of a sharp object with the words "Jack Milton", that is the name of the optimistic nihilistic. Jack does not care at all about Mysterio's existence, who for him is just like a middle age man who spends the rest of his time with the money he gets from performing in a makeshift opera without family. Regarding the mystery of his appearance, the half-adolescent has the logic that it could be that the middle age nihilistic man is perched on a small, invisible branch, entering a hole that actually fits his fat body size. Even more convincing, no one had ever seen it from the front in person. There was also a time when a 12 year old child said that someone who looked like Mysterio in a tramp-like outfit came out of a round door that was so tightly fitting that it was difficult to reach with the naked eye. Jack's stomach was rumbling, so he decided to return to where he lived. As usual, Jack accepted all offers in the form of assistance, especially money or those in need of assistance or assistance. In the midst of Castle Rock that doesn't live up to its name, walk along Fort Herger, an abandoned Mexican outlaw stronghold. This year is 1912, definitely before the 1900s. Intrigued by the contents inside, Jack entered the fort. He found a piece of wet paper mining in the tunnel which was already filled. The paper was oily, maybe it would float. Without hesitation, he took a neatly rolled paper, tied with twisted pieces of wheat leaves in a vertical and horizontal line, and in the middle there was a small red circle. It seems that it is hundreds of years old, even tens of centuries ago, like a rusty roll of paper put in a bottle and buried in the beach sand by pirates as a message or treasure or just for fun to deceive. The letter said, "Go back to your house, there is nothing here." Jack's spirit of stoicism immediately ignited and burst out laughing. Incidentally, it was already early days, he brought the letter as a memento. Halfway through the road, he found a charming woman with a tone that seemed very religious. Falling down on the ground and asking for help from God. Seeing that scene he immediately walked casually as if he was waiting for him. The meeting began with a stupid question, "How are you ma'm?" The face of a girl that age started to frown. Of course, their ages were closely related, perhaps just months or even dates. "Am I do something wrong?" The atmosphere that was initially silent became even more silent. Even more foolish, he showed her the letter that made the wave's heart beat twice as fast. Of course he did it to break the ice. Indeed, the mind of a teenager who has just walked for three years to adulthood is very unpredictable, who must always take advantage of all available opportunities, never think of bad things as bad luck, but opportunities to achieve something. What did he want to achieve? Absolutely not identified by anyone's reasoning. In essence, whatever he wanted at that moment. His long, thick, cat-like mustache was beaming with joy. His beard and beard were neatly cut with his own hunting knife until it was barely visible, without the slightest wound or scar. He unrolled the letter, then said "Thank you". Not understanding what he meant, Jack immediately answered "You're welcome". He left the woman without caring about her next situation. On the way, Jack did not think anything about what had just happened, until finally arriving at a large stable, there were outer and inner gates of the giant empty barn. Each cage has a pile of hay to cover the smell of human penolon animal waste. There is only one stable containing a horse which is none other than Milfee. At the T-junction to the right of the warehouse, there is a house for occupants. It is very clear that the rmah was built by at least four people with minimal design but of high quality. More precisely, it was built with the same sect without paying anyone. About one week the building was made. But why didn't Jack live in a place that would be so much more comfortable? I do not know, he really enjoyed everything in himself and what he had. Milfee's cage was made as comfortable as possible, with a dark blue mat on which to base, a green blanket over her body, a cup of coffee to drink. No wonder when pitted against other horses, Milfee is the champion in running. The next day, it was seen that the uninhabited house entered. The atmosphere is bright, it doesn't look like a historical heritage museum at all. Apparently the place was only used as a room to do whatever he wanted, such as reading, writing, to just eating. His daily routine feels extraordinary to him, namely picking berries that grow in the hallway tree of his secret room to give to Milfee, while he eats Coyote, Elk, Wolf, and other wild animals that he hunts if he wants. It's not uncommon to get no food at all in a day, so you eat the same fruit. Until one day he returned to riding without direction, he passed a "Fragile Bridge" which was famous for its mysteriousness which always collapsed, but never suffered more damage than before, even with five riders at once. But this time it was different, right at that time the two of them immediately fell from a height of approximately 8 meters. How to do it, it turns out that at the bottom of the desert sand there is a hole filled with a pile of soft straw, it is actually at the bottom. A little mouse perched out just before Jack fell with a reflex roll to the right, knowing that Milfee was about to fall on him. There appeared before his eyes a stagnant river, or rather a pond. Yes, it is a pool. The gaze above was already dark, glistening with white dots that he ridiculously thought were clusters of stars in the sky in broad daylight. There was absolutely no visible hole where he fell. Rarely cleaning the body, immediately plunge into the pool which is definitely very cold. The pool was about the size of his body to the shoulder, so he avoided death because he could not swim. A footrest eel that was causing her legs to cramp for a minute. When taking a walk by the water that from the middle looks at the end of the horizon like a river flowing into a place. His clothes were not removed at all because he was alert that he would definitely be trapped for a very long time. From afar, there was a fireplace complete with a small black bucket that was supposed to be used for mopping half-filled water, hanging neatly over the firewood. The edges are strung with unnecessary pebbles, seemingly just decoration. Jack chuckled in awe and amazement. It seems like a criminal has never done anything similar. Actually it is not impossible, but just lazy. As well as revenge, he stabbed the eel many times while holding back the shock. He picked up to put it in the bucket. Incidentally, he was trapped in a cold room inhabited except for himself for a human count for 5 consecutive hours. It turned out that during that time he was also soaking in the cold air while sleeping on the edge of a comfortable gravel pile. I don't know what material the designer of the place used that he used to live in. To be precise, why would that person isolate himself in a lonely place like this? Jack was not at all afraid, according to his view of life not to regret anything that happened in his life. He already knows about the answer to his question earlier. Yes, Mysterio is the owner of that place, having subconsciously entered his territory. The eel which was already half-gossed was lifted and threw it with his hunting knife by gouging out the bottom. With reflexes that have been trained, immediately catch it with a gloved hand of course. He ate it straight away without worrying about the withered teeth as a result of which fresh animals were very special for people who starved for hours. Slowly, I heard the familiar sound of phantom shoes. Yes, Mysterio. In the hand holding a paper that is no less familiar. "Good afternoon, young man. How was your hunting activity? Before answering, it occurred to him that he was the same self, asking a similar question to a 70-year-old FBI agent. 30 years older than an unsolved mystery, with a similar face, with more obvious wrinkles, a funny face, but contrary to his character. I don't know, when Jack was 16 years old, watching from a very far distance, someone was shot by a group of USA soldiers led by that person, with a cigar in his mouth like doing a light job. The agent's name is Mr Ross. A distinctive black ribbon tie with a light brown coat that Jack later stole as a memento. The man who was shot fell slowly, starting from the one who was stuck in a standing state, kneeling in a matter of 10 seconds, and falling to the ground in no less long seconds. The man was none other than Jack's father, John Milton. His mother, Mrs. Milton, died shortly thereafter, in a span of 3 years, the same year that his only son performed the act. Remembering what his mother said when he wanted to be a Gunslinger when he grew up, which was replied with the words "Over my dead body!" At that time she was 5 years old, not enough to take these words seriously until 14 years later Mrs. Milton died of Tuberculosis which was also caused by her uncle, even though the cause was actually a "rat". Exactly the day after his revenge, he realized that it had brought nothing, so in a whisper, "Revenge is the most stupid thing". Recorded Mysterio whispering "Yeah right." Within seconds, after the flashback of the last 14 years of his life, something was up. If so, what about his uncle who has his “Lumbago” disease. Lumbago itself is a lower back pain whose reports work. Not infrequently Mr. Milton kicks his lower back. Her hair is only on the edge of the hole in the middle. But Mysterio is very strong. Then he took off his hat, and "Bam", "I recovered from back pain, son!" Her grandfather and uncle immediately embraced the boundaries. "How did uncle's back become that sedater?" In the same humorous voice, he recounted his experience of meeting a woman with a blonde wave insight who was given a bottle of "hoch". "Did he fall on the ground? How are things now? “, Jack asked in panic. “Yes, that's why I gave him my bottle of hoch. Previously, his face was already smiling as if someone like you had visited him. " "Where is she now?" "I have no idea. But it seems that when he got up and walked, the direction was right in the direction of our house first. But how does he find out? " Jack excitedly said, "Let's quickly get from here and to our house first!" "Just you. Let me take care of your horse. Before avenging the soul of the adult teenager, he is excited to run a marathon towards the haystack which to him is like the house of Papa Bronte he visited when he was five years old, with his delicious spaghetti. Right after leaving, Uncle whispered "Red Harlow is back." The taro teenager who just found something ran the 5 meter marathon while panting until he slipped into a cliff, but returned to running without stretching his back like Uncle. Arriving at their destination, he smashed the warehouse door. There is no one. Of course, “my girl” is in her old house, cooking the spaghetti “Papa Bronte” that has become famous since kidnapping a little boy who is none other than her. The white print "Made in 1898" is proof of this. He smelled the scent he had left for the past 14 years. Is it expired? Of course not, because Jack had been a true customer since leaving. Knowing this fact is very easy for him because he is a "hoboing" traveler who wanders here and there without a clear direction and purpose until he finds many new things that he wrote in a large book he found in a bookstore "Harlow's Library" which is what it is with. a collection of the youngest old books published in 1899. His favorite books are "Wildwest Mystery", "Johnny The Kid", "Outlaw's Journey" which averages 300 pages. Unlike the boys who liked picture stories, they preferred books full of writings. The illustrations in the form of writing actually made him feel challenged to explore them again and again. It is not uncommon for him to spend days in the giant book room to find the meaning without opening the dictionary, but only to contemplate it until he is carried away by a dream to turn one of the words he does not understand into an extremely interesting story.. "Papa Bronte!" A spoiled sweet voice came from the kitchen, "Who called my father?" "Me!", Said Jack with a feeling of joy that can not be described in words. His imagination was dragging on and on, getting intoxicated by romance for the first time at the right age. "Angelo Bronte is your father?" "Yyy ... Yes, how do you know?" "You said it yourself, what's your name?" Of course normal people will respond according to the question, "Brenda Bronte". The two of them sat on the bench that was already 7 years old, Jack shared his experience with what happened to him with Papa Bronte. Brenda was a little embarrassed by this fact and apologized. Even though it was only a small threat to the old outlaw gang who had been far apart, someone became a writer, married someone who had nothing to do with the world of crime, let alone a gun battle, or disappeared into the earth or seemed to be alienating himself like himself from a middle age woman. "Who is cruel and thirsty for wealth. It's too cool to talk until the legendary food is burnt with the ai stove still burning. Uncle saw that with a big grin, leaving the two of them, tying Milfee in the place that was already 7 years old too. The soul of writer Jack was unstoppable. A day later Jack prepared the pen and paper that Brenda brought to write her story entitled "Red Dead", "Made by J Milton and B Bronte". You can guess what kind of relationship the two of them have. In 2013, we saw a former successful Robbery Bank named “Jon Milton” sitting on a soft sofa, opposite a thin screen TV reading the same book.