"They say blood is thicker than water, but my pa always told me you already have all the blood you need in your body, and that blood will fight over water when the rivers run red from blood your blood took. Then nobody wins."Pull that trigger and you'll find yourself in deep waters. He told me.
So here I stand on the side of retribution sometimes wondering how im supposed to do right when living is so hard …but this man has nothing that his life is worth now does taking his life when the only thing I reap is my morbid itch, that would truly be evil wouldn't it
"This man murdered my husband," I think as tears well up on my face. It's been years since then. Now he's a withered man. Do the last days on Earth hold more value than the first or the ones in between? They don't. I feel the revolver cock in my hand as I fire.
But the lives I took to kill him - did they outweigh the life of my pa? They did to me. I sure as hell felt it.
As I leave the homestead, the devil whispers to me through the wind. My heart hollows with the echoes of the folk I killed.
Days went by. I was crossing the plains on horseback when I passed out from The dehydration.
I woke up in a pile of bones, I eyed my surroundings to find a Wendigo boring holes into me with its eyes, the deepest circles of hell in them.
I quickly reached for my repeater on my back, but it pounced on me. One scratch and I would get infected and be bedridden, maybe even die.
I jammed the shaft of the repeater in its mouth, holding it there as I pulled out my Bowie knife. I stabbed and stabbed and stabbed and stabbed as the saliva of the Wendigo hit my face. Then there I lay in shock. I lay there for a bit before I wriggled out from under the dead thing.
I looked down and there was a gash in my belly.
I was bleeding, I realized, as I fainted once again.
I woke up in a tent ,bandages wrapped around my stomach the stinging pain of herbs as my eyes focused and the ringing in my ears, faded. I began to hear the giggles of children and their scolding parents a one of the children a young girl, realizes i'm awake and runs out the door.
…Indians , I say to myself so I sit there in silence before a man walks in "this woman killed the wendigo." The child states
The man nods he grabs me by the chin and stares into my eyes searching for something
"Demon" he states callously with a hint of pity.
he releases my chin as I look at him confused. he pulled my shirt up. and
I reflexively reach for the knife to find,nothing. he shows me my wound and its, almost completely healed?
The man gives the child an order in his native tongue, and the child runs out the tent; the man, promptly, follows.
And so, I… slept; my fever boiling me like the irish boil potatoes.
The lines between my dream and the world before me, begin to blur; And there, the devil greets me
"oh where to start ,where to start from when did it start; where you and your heart… part"
"I'm me if that's what you asking"
"How do you know, what… do you have to, show" he says
"Is this a test"
"A, lesson…" he states softy with a hint of Malice.
"Between, one's wisdom and and their heart there is no, schism"
"Where there is judgment, there is fear for what one, despairs"
"And now you understand what they care for, and how you can see which burden their heart, bares…."he finishes his voice fading from my mind.