Red Dead

Once upon a time in Green Palm Trees, there's a story about a masked man that easiily became a legend since ten years ago. Wearing all dark clothes without spesific color on it. Some of them believe, some of them even make joke about him. Even asked if he's truly human male.

In a coffe shop in 1900, two people talking to each other about it. "Nothing could be that true partner. I heard another story about stuff like that, ended up as a joke. Anyone believe that kind of thing, ended up as a joke itself." "I guess so." They walking away without horse since it's really expensive while that time. "So what you doing nxt, cowpoke?" "Whatever miste. I have nothing to do with my own life." "Hey let's get to the desert once again" "No, I'm all tired. Just want to sleep all day long," "Ok, See you young man." "Thanks, mister." Bonn distance towards his empty house only 10 meters from the shop. So there's nothing interesting while walking home. He then walking towards house and feed his sheep and newborn lamb named Domee. "Have some eat, Dombee. You start getting fat." Often acting crazy nowadays, Don't even think neither. He then gets out only for six minutes to freshed himself with cold water. Some kind of ritual to forget everything just happened. Here's Polly, his brown white horse, people licked their ownn tongue since the color looks like a coffee. Bonn resembles them as a dirt licker. Just bathed his hore, then an old man with a hat coming. "What's bring you here old man?" "Water, please." "Sure." Bonn gets into his house, crrying his horse water. He drinking it himself proves that nothing's wrong with his moral or less lie. " Here we go, partner." The old man start drinking with no second thought. It seems he's nearly died which is normal thing happen in Armmindoeloe. "It's good?" "Paradise!" "You can living here." "You don't say." "Two men here solve more problem, If you don't mind." "Nevermind. I'd stay." "good." "Wanna get in?" "Is that so?" "It's not a dream, old man," They both get in, left the horse hanging there untied." "So nobody's here?" "I gave you a hint just second ago." "Oh, sorry about that." "It's great thing to do." "Please sit. You must be tired all dy long searching for this normal water." "I heard you talk with a stranger about the masked man legend." "No, it's-""Don't laugh about. My cousin once died due his on laugh." "I already told you-" "I know. Kids around your age don't afraid of nothing." "I can ceartinly allure." "So we don't need to talk like childish, I hate it." "Feels like spitting some of water of yours." "So where do we begin?" They both know they just want to searching it by himself without talking lies and fairytale stuff. I heard a story like this:

Trashed on the middle of the streets, screwed up there. There is one thing or someone else outside a wallmart, drinking his ice cream with countless cones in it. Basically it's pack of mini ice cream dominated with chocolate with green seasons. It's summer 1982, Tommy sits down on the floor outside the minimall. Don't aware right beside him are undefined trash can. There are blue, yellow, and red bin without direct classification. This day is a common day for average teenagers for hangin around with their friends. Different for Tommy. The season is actually pretty well, just like the ice cream he eating with his tongue. Sweet, or maybe sweet. Just graduated from Revere Middle School in Ohio. What he do mainly walking aroud bushes in the forest. Sometimes a deer running around like there's some carnivora animals while there aren't any of them. Or baseball players from high school running at it to be eaten together. Become steak, or just like normal meat, fried or boiled. Actually this poor boy like to bettering himself. After three years of nonsense anxious mind lead him to brokeness, burnout, or anything wasted. Couldn't identified as anything stereotypical. Not nerd, jocks, greasers, townies, goth,and even non clique students. With his walkman tied on his neck to his chest, played montage song to make his feeling better. Just like usual, he packed those ice cream into a meal box. Somehow melted tasted better than iced, then throw it into his small blue bag. There are two guys with red parasites jacket with manual bike talking, make Tommy smiling at them. Imagining himself as part of them. "Hey man how's Jimmy's bike, you heard his own trashed, right?" "Around the bushes, maybe." "Then why he didn't take it back?" "He's unconsious, then after woke up, his bike dissapeared." "There should be someone stole it." "But who?" "Who guess?" "Whatever man, this late December tournament begins. Don't let your butt whopped again by that kid again, hahahaha." "Just ride, man." "Let's ride!" Tommy smirks, knowing about Jimmy's bike. Three of them are his seniors back in 1976, just two years age swapped. With his red bicycle, back to his empty caravan. Simple but at least he could feels warm and comfortable in it. "Sorry Jimmy, but it's more matched here." He plans to modified it. Sitting on the wooden table because there's no chair. Only itchy sofa just like in regular barbershops. Eating those melted ice cream that more like thick milk with an alumunium spoon. Turn on the thick television. Appearing the commercial of Tang Soo Doo Competition. Tommy remembered what both of biker guys talked about on the parking lot. Eating or more like drinking it in a rush to start his training. He didn’t believe those peoples say that body genetics beat all of kind of hard work. Genetic could be the reason, but not all the time. Training alone makes him even more concentrated rather than join countless sports groups just to identified as “jock”. He believes himself could beat all of them. And most of purely talented without strong dedication only sweeped by years. There’s no field around the forest, so he runs randomly with long tracks, or even without tracks, searching for incline roads. Try to do sets of bodyweight workout on his room, just three rooms in his caravan by the way. Bedroom, toilet, and kitchen counted as living room with a tv on the corner side of the kitchen, hanged above the board. The walkman is from his dad on Reseda, California. He walks outside. He likes walking around proves he’s not antisocial, but there’s something holding his mind. Something secret, he don’t even realized it. That’s cold night, feels good at his skin. A bottle of coors, walking to the big tall tree like he did two years ago. Don’t know what’s going on in his mind. Just climbing the tree and sitting at the branch while drink those coors. Don’t even care this is his last day. He sleeped on the branch with his back, leaning his back on the stem. Whole night sleeping there after two bottles. Night after night, I spend staring out in space. Alone with the cowards tears that always seem to be. Nothing is inside the room. No laughter is ever heard. Haunted by the memories you left with me and your parting words. And so another lonely night without you. I wish I could stop thinkin’ about you. Time and again and again, God knows, I’ve tried to. But it is another lonely night without you.

Last night has been good for me, once and for all. Spend lonely night not bad at all as an introvert young man. I’m 17, eaten whole bread at that night, watching black and white television. 1970s is a great time you know. 1977, Ohio State, a great country for me. Bunch of trees with countless leaves calmed my mind, all over the grey straight streets. Living in white dork caravan alone, with a radio and cassette tape, full of 1970s songs. Bad Finger, Faustus, Bread, Bee Gees, Van Halen, Guns n Roses, Craig Marsden, with calm sad Angel of the Wilderness, loveable sounds. Going to Ohio High School, social class, the next day is first semester of 12^th grade. Regular mattress make me comfortable, along with moth sounds around the near forest from my house. Ohio streets is really calm, people with anxiety, OCD, PTSD even from war, ADHD, whatever mental illness will sprea away like a wind. Yeah, wind around the forests really calm. The freak guy Molly. Long straight black hair, but not Asian. Maybe he dyed it black either formally or nowhere. Jeans Denim Jacket like a greaser, but always on foot. Bring a pocket little knifes. Sounds like a psycho, but he never hurted anyone. Make everyone scared, yes. But hurt them? Not even a single punch or single kick. Very tall, kinda like athletic but I’m not sure due to his drug habits, suh as smoking, self hurting with pocket knifes, drinking obviously, anything hard but never hurt anyone, just himself. Derf, Kevin, and Jeff the cool nerd gang often confronted by him, demonstrated them a skin slice with a little knife. Although that’s little, but his right hand were full of scars. Yes, right hand! The blonde guy Jeff is the one sees him without feelng awkward. Once go with him to a nowhere forest. We Ohio kids often go to any forests, even Bridgett the senior girl live in it.

Five, seven o five. But there’s no reply. Five seven o five. Got myself just one more dime, but will the operator hold the line. When my ears keep telling me, there’s no reply, no reply. I pick up the telephone, I go crazy when there’s no one home. I feel cheted and small when my number’s on the wall of her room, call me soon.

That’s the radio played in the orange bus. I don’t even know until now why must orange? I eat orange everyday because I like it, but not this one. Jeff just walking away behind the bus, I mean in the bus. “Boy, why you’re standing there? Boy?” Someone running behind the bus, but what interests Jeff? Something must be special about him. Derf drawing and put every papers he drawed in a little basket garbage. Curly black hair, skinny body type with regular shirt, looks like a Jew. Just say it, not any intention about it. Jeffrey is the one is special, better build, kinda like athletic, minimal had to use a dumbbell, big biceps with a hunched back, really strange. A glasses, he’s like a nerd, jock, goth, bully, every kind of high school stereotypes combined into one, and that’s Jeffrey.

It seems like that. Every leaves on trees flew around the streets, wheels on the road. Deead cat, rat, every kind of animals likely to see. But I don’t know, going to Revere High School once again. It’s happy to be normal, only this time is complicated. 12^th April 1977, just turned 17 while I was sick. Suspicious thing about this that I was really sick on my 17^th birthday. Nothing such sweet or bit, just nonsense. Optimistic nihilistic, awkward obsessive, anxiety, anxiousness. Just discovered that lead to worser and worser. As always, Derf bring the spray and sprayed the stone “77-78”. I know it. “Hey, Jeff, how’s the summer?” Couple girls sayed that to that guy once again. Supposed to be the just one of the guys, but whatever. Since graduated from middle school, my mindfulness about reputation flew away, all of that all nonsense. But this time all those philossopy of life just flew away like a green leaves on Ohio forest. The guy with slack of knifes touch my shoulde smoothly, “What’s the matter man? Relax, don’t be stressfull, I know what you feel. But I don’t like to spread nonsense wisdom, all of that all trash, all trashed.” Such a beautiful reality words from drugger mouth. I know most of the druggers typically bad guy, But believe me or not, they’re mouth of reality trash world, Not nonsense good wonderful sunshine and rainbow stuff, rainbow more like a chew gum with colorful, but still ended up as a trash. Real trash. “Pack your stuff, Tony , no one see you.” “Where?” “That way.” North, yes, north. Rabbit season, bird season, hunting what? Whale? Shark? It’s part of America. I like deer, kitten, not more than that. Dirty shoes, full of hippo dirt. “We’re hunting Tony Brock.” As always, I admired all of his wisdom. Most of peoples will preferred it as as a scum, but for people with dark-light experiences would be different. Nothing is true, everything is permitted. Understand that words. Bad finger, City Boy with beautiful legs lady held a broken paper. Nobody cares, just a libido taste, “muachhhh”. 1970s bands cover album on the dirty soil. The place Molly stand as a “people. Burnfire, dirty wood guitar with curly strings. I loved that. 07:30 AM in the morning. “What I have to do with this thing?” No, I would not ask anything. Just do anything I want. Unknown cigarette, pick up the instrument, sit on a tree full of scar. Either by his own hand or pocket knife. “BAM”, a rifle with a bullet against a bird on the sky obviously. Not for hunting, just to fulfilled his own desires. I still held his cigarette. He pointed the rifle to me. I say with body language, “No”. So basically we skiped first day at school, first time for me.

So I left him shoot random poor winds until no ammo. But no, I preffer waiting behind the tree. Suprisingly, he’s sleeping there. That must be his own routine, so there’s no need to be surprised about that. On a cold night, left the forest with that guy. Still dn’t need to be ashamed, that’s even better. Ohio school must be not really cared about skipped students, there’es too many problem in there. One thing I amazed about this guy is don’t need to ashamed abot reputation, notheless for him. Walk down the streets on 15^th July 1977, 20:00 PM obviously. Jeff walking alone to his house, never see anyone in that wood little house. Just checking out the school. It’s unlocked. Not without lock, but breaking the window with a trash can. Social III 3^rd grade, destroy the door. There’s a cassette tape, bringing that to flat house.

“Looking up I see a new light coming. A light that dreams coming true. Looking back I see the bad times fading. Years and years that burn so blue. Pack my bags and I’m n’ Arizona. Crazy woman took a part of my soul. But picking up the pieces won’t be easy. She could not feel it so I had to go. And now that all is said and done. I hope that you will have to begun. To deal four yourself, deal for yourself. It’s not a lost cause and feeling inside. You’ve got to deal for yourself, deal for yourself, don’t take new cause for the ones that yo’ve got. Are enough for the win.”

Goes to flat house again. With a bottle of scotch on hand on stratchy sofa, watching random television channel.