The Legend of the Undertaker yet another addition

[BrownEyez]

(I read once, on the main site, that WWE is going to make a movie about undertaker's life. So I felt the urge to try --TRY-- to write a version of my own and post it here, if that is okay with mods.)

It takes place mostly in 2010, but the narrator speaks with a flash back going back to the 1840 old west time.
characters
Jacquelyn: supporting/narrator
Mark/Undertaker: main character
Kane: supporting
Evelyn Clarke Calaway (mom)
James Holt Calaway (dad)
I used a promo where, taker talks about little Kane and his parents as inspiration, and because people are familiar with it so here's how it starts.


A ten year boy and a ten year old girl bounce up and down on their beds, as they did every night before they went to sleep. “Aunt Jacque I wanna hear a scary story before I go to bed.” said the boy “Me too!” said the girl. “Are you sure you two can go to sleep without having nightmares?” Jacquelyn said and both kids yelled “Yes!” “Alright,” she said as she brushed over the books on the shelf “Tell us, the one about the guy in the oldwest!” the boy suggested and the young girl said “yeah that one, the undertaker of Cargo junc-junt-” “Junction and no that story is far too long and too scary for you two” Jacquelyn dismissed. “Please!” they pleaded and she gave in. “Okay. Okay, get in your beds and don’t tell your dad I told you this story.” The kids shuffled into their beds, eagerly waiting for her to begin.

“What did kids do back then?” the little boy asked

“Well I suppose the same thing kids do today, play games and got into trouble, like you two.” she said patting the boy on the head. “In fact I know it.”

“How?” they both inquired

“Because story has it, the young boy that was to become the undertaker, was an adventurous little prankster, along with his brother”

“Well that’s not scary at all,” said the boy

“Just wait,” Jacquelyn continued the story.

“Now in this small town, lived a very well-to-do family, The Calaways, now they had money, because they were the only ones who dare deal with the preparation and burying of the dead. Though they were respectable people, much of the town went out of their way to not even come close to them, when walking down and roads. This left little Kane and Mark, The Calaways’ children, with only each other to make fun with. They would go into the town and pull pranks on the barber, jump on and off the moving trains and even got into the mail bags and mixed them up so horribly that it took months for letters and packages to be sorted. Even though the two of them were a menace, there was still a woman who owned a candy shop given to her by her mother, that enjoyed the two kids and they came by often”…

Mark: Mrs Lydia, you know what, I wanna own a business too, when I get older
He said while looking out of the shop’s windows and Kane chewed spiced candy

Miss Lydia: Now I dun told you two before, I ain’t old or married to be called no mam or mrs yet.

Kane: But poppa said, to treat a woman with the right tone upfront and she won’t slap ya, but then, mom’s slaps him…

Mark: Do you think I could own a business?

Miss Lydia: I think you can do most anything just keep the right head on your shoulders and you’ll be fine.

Kane: I’m gonna take over the family business, that’s I want.
He said as he confidently bit into a Chugga Chew.

Mark: I’m gonna own a Poker Saloon, where people come around to play all types of Poker, even Whiskey Poker and listen to songs being sang by a piano. Miss Lydia, you can be the singer, cause you’ve always been nice to the family.

Miss Lydia: Now no more talking about these things, no 9 or 11 year old needs to be worrying about work. Go back to your parents and save room for supper.
She said as she wiped Kane’s face and sent them on their way. They left the store and went back home, as they entered their home.

Kane: Mark, you in love with Miss Lydia

Mark: No I’m not! She’s ancient, she has to be about 20 something!
He thought out loud

Kane: ‘You can be the singer’
He mimics him and they tussle then their father breaks them up.

James Calaway: Where have you two been!

Evelyn: You know better then to go off without telling us first.

Mark: We were just at Miss Lydia’s shop.

James Calaway: When are you going to grow up boy!
Smacks him

James Calaway: If I have to tell you, to get them chores done, and done right, one more time!
Mark’s face goes red

Evelyn Calaway: Oh let them go, they’ll get things done. Aren’t you boys.
They nodded and slinked off.

Evelyn Calaway: I think you are much too hard on those boys.

James Calaway: I ‘m bringing up those boys to be men.

Later that night Kane awoke to the sounds of his parents arguing about something, and he traveled through the hall and crouched near the office door…

Evelyn Calaway: I made a mistake! Don’t make little Kane pay for what I did!

James Calaway: I’m not! Don’t I treat that boy, like he was my own, like he wasn’t a result of some night you had with Paul!

Evelyn Calaway: I’m sorry! You, You were never around and I felt…unimportant

James Calaway: Listen, the family business is going to Mark, not because of who’s son he is, but because he is the oldest and he shows more understanding for the process. That’s that.

Kane runs from the office door, back up the stairs and through the hall to his and Mark’s bedroom. He slammed into his bed, with a sound that woke his snoring brother…

Mark: Kane, you still up?

Kane: Yeah. Mom and poppa, were at it again.

Mark: Oh. Well they make right all the time. Get some sleep, we got chores to do tomorrow.

Kane closed his eyes, mad and confused about what he heard. The next morning Kane and Mark, were up bright and early picking up building supplies and bringing it back to the preparation room at the funeral home. Kane still had a look of coldness in his eyes, and didn’t say much at all.

Mark: Kane? What’s with you? Hey, if ya bored I got something to show ya.
He grabbed a container of embalming fluid and took Kane by the arm and took him outside, behind the house. When he saw no one was looking, he took a book of matches
From his pocket and a grey handkerchief.
Mark: I use to do this when I got bored.
He dips the cloth in the fluid at one end and ties a knot on the other. He then lights the wet end of it with a match and it quickly catches fire.
Mark: The fluid burns first, so that the rag ain’t burned quick yet. He stamps it out and swings it playfully. It then escapes him and flies into a slightly open window of the preparing room.
Mark: Oops, good thing it wasn’t lighted no more, better go get it before poppa finds it.

Evelyn Calaway: Mark! Your dad needs you to pick up some nails from the store.
She shouts from out the back door of the house.
Mark: Alright! Kane you coming?
Kane nodded no and Mark ran towards the town.”


The little girl and boy started to nod off and Jacquelyn took this as a cue to tiptoe her way out, but her attempts failed, when the little boy said, “Don’t go yet, we haven’t gotten to the scary part yet,” tiredly “Yeah,” said the little girl with a yawn. Jacquelyn sighs and sits back down “So, where was I? oh right…”

[Dark_Lady_18]

Great start BrownEyez, quite liked it.

[susanlovestaker]

nice...i liked it a lot.

[BrownEyez]

“About thirty minutes had gone by and Mark was on his way back from the store, before he could reach the very road that led to his home, he saw smoke rising in a thick black way. He ran, ran as fast as he could go. When he got their, authorities stopped him from going in. And he stood screaming, it took some time for the fire to be quenched and when all was done, The Sheriff spoke to some of the others.

Sheriff: looks like the blaze was caused by this.
He held the charred remains of a grey handkerchief . Mark forced his way through the crowd and up to the men, when he saw his handkerchief, he couldn’t hide the fact that it was his, because the Sheriff looked at him and then the burned stitching on the cloth, reading his name aloud. There was a hushing gasp among the people watching as collectively believed that Mark was the one who set the fire and he believed it as well, though by accident. The crowd yelled partially for the kid to be thrown in the jail, others said to kick him out of town. And so it was traumatized and alone, the last thing he saw was the bodies of his mom and dad being pulled out of the rumble, having being crushed by a fallen support beam. He ran into town where others hadn’t gotten the news yet, but he knew it wouldn’t be long. Miss Lydia stood sweeping the front of her shop as Mark ran by…
Miss Lydia: Wait. Where you off to?
She invited him in for some food and he obliged only to keep up pretense and perhaps get something in his stomach before running far away.

Miss Lydia: What’s wrong Mark?

Mark: I did something, something bad to my family.

Miss Lydia: That can’t be true, you love your family.

Mark: I did.
Some of the town’s people and the Sheriff were going around the other shops, asking for him and Mark saw this from the window.

Mark: can I have some eats to leave with?
He said hurriedly, Miss Lydia nodded yes and Mark grabbed what he could and ducked out of the shop before the Sheriff made it there. He made it far away and when he looked back into the distance, he saw Miss Lydia talking with the Sheriff.”


“Now this is where it gets pretty unusual,” Jacquelyn warned. The two kids gripped the ends of their covers, in frightened curiosity. “Now the legends say, that sometimes, a terrible heavy sadness can carry with it, a ton of physical badness. For Mark the traumatic event, that he was sure he caused, kept him from getting hurt, no matter what he did to himself, no matter how many fights he got in, he would heal. He would feel the pain --no doubt-- but it was like, along with his family, he died too. It seemed to take twice as long for him to age than others. All that guilt pain and suffering, really had a hold on him,” Jacquelyn shrugged. “Well what happened to him?” the little boy peered from under his covers. “Some say he was killed in a fire. Other’s say he came back to this town after he was older and lived among the people as the new funeral home director and no one knew it was the same little boy, for by that time, anyone that could remember was considerably old then. Some say it was his son that came back to town. And even a few say, that he didn’t die and still lives on the outskirts of this town, in a house built by his hands, infused with the burnt remains of the old funeral home. No one goes there, for fear that they may be set a blaze, and buried right on the very same property.” she finished and stood up. “And that’s all I know, now you two go, to , sleep.”


The next day, in the afternoon, the young kids were playing in the playground while their dad watched. “Lets go see the old house just outside of town” they whispered to each other and waited for when their father wasn’t looking. On and on they went, pass the old railroad tracks and into the wooded areas. “Come on!” they alternated yelling, when the other fell behind. It was early in the evening and the kid’s dad was searching high and low and all around for them. Finally he called the police and Jacquelyn over to discuss looking for them. Jacquelyn said “are you sure they weren’t anywhere near the park?” “I looked, don’t you think I would search for my own children!” “Collin, I was just making sure, calm down, I’m sure the police are going to help.” “Actually,” the police officer said “ we can’t file a missing person’s report until 24 hours.” “What!” Collin jumped
“24 hrs for children, 48hrs for adults,” he saw the look on the dad’s face and said “We can drive around town looking for them, I’m a dad myself.” The officer and Collin grabbed their bags and began to go. “I’ll stay here, just incase they come back.” Jacquelyn said. They left and an hour or so went by. Jacquelyn paced back and forth and as soon as the idea of the children going to the undertaker‘s house, popped into her mind, she grabbed her things. She drove passed the old street signs, things getting dustier the farther she went, passed the rail tracks and to the edge of the town. She knew she couldn’t drive through the wooded area and so she left the car and went hiking through. She heard some screaming of kids a little away from her and darted to that area. There stood a large, Victorian style home, that looked worn and beaten up. She finally found the two kids chasing each other on the porch, that wrapped from the front of the house to the back. “You two are in so much trouble! Your dad is worried sick and so was I!” Jacquelyn shouted as she caught her breath. “Aww Auntie, we just wanted to go on an adventure, like the kids in the story did,” the little boy said “Do me a favor kid, don’t go on adventures, until you are tall enough to reach the cabinets in the kitchen.” she knelt and hugged them, then stood and walked with them close by her sides ,”Now lets get you back, I think I’m parked towards this way.” she stopped to think of where she was, it was hard to tell, there was no clear path.” Suddenly they all heard a shuffling in the bushes behind them and the two kids shrieked, and Jacquelyn pushed them to run in front of her as she ran behind. “CRACK!” was heard and the two kids turned to see their aunt hanging in a space that had broken where the door meets the porch. They gasped and ran towards her. “Are you ok!” the boy screamed, “I’m fine I just-” she tried to pull herself up but she quickly found that she had broken her arm when she landed on it. Her arm slipped and she was now hanging by one hand, over what seemed to be a basement deep under the house. The sound of heavy foot steps came from behind and the kids went running off the opposite way. Jacquelyn tried to see what was happening, but the space cracked more and she slipped down into the basement, and onto the edge of a banister. Her eyes flutter as she tried to focus, but there was a burning pain in her head and things began to dim as she fell unconscious. The last thing she saw were some big black boots stepping to her and massive hands, She yelled for help.

[Dark_Lady_18]

Mystery black boots, cool. Liked it .

[stevebutler44]

Browneyez has represented something different then soon. It quite magnetic . I hope that He will add some new character as soon as.

[taker-fan-4eva!]

Good story, you sort of forget shes telling the kids a bedtime story which is really good.
I really liked it

[BrownEyez]

Jacquelyn awoke to the sound of rustling. She opened her eyes and saw a dark figure of a man looking through a box. She makes a startled sound and he looks at her, which made her speechless for a moment. “I’m sorry to be on your property. I was looking for my niece and nephew, and I fell. I didn’t mean-” she stopped explaining when the man began tending to her broken arm. She studied the man as he helped her, he was a tall man with dark eyes, dark long hair, and a solemn face. “Thank you” she said. “Can you stand?” he asked and she nodded while slowly moving. He turned away to gather the box and put it up. “Um I won’t, you know, do anything about the fall,” she volunteered and he turned to her while she continued “Just in case you were wondering”. “Alright then, I’ll just let myself out?” she walks to the front hallway and to the door and opens it. She eyes the hole in the porch's floor and nervously clears her throat “And I’m sorry about that”. She steps over the hole, she looked back to see if the man was behind her and he wasn’t. When she stepped fully onto the porch and door closed behind her. She made it back to her car and back to her own home. The days went on as usual well mostly.

Although he didn’t say much the owner of that property stuck in her mind, and her niece and nephew didn’t help either. “Auntie! You saw him? Was it the Undertaker from the story?” her nephew asked her. “What? That’s just a story, Connor”. Fiona, her niece, bounced just as much as Connor did and said “He didn’t hurt her, did he auntie? How old was he?” “I’m not going to talk about this anymore now go to your dad” they lowered their heads and ran to their dad, who was just entering Jacquelyn’s door. When they left Jacquelyn sat on her couch and grabbed a book “Life in the old west hmm” she read the title out loud and began to read the book. She read for hours and finally fell asleep with the book in hand. She awoke to find herself lying on the mysterious man’s couch. She stood and began to walk to the front porch hearing the sound of sawing as she came closer. It was night time and it was raining. The tall dark man was sawing and measuring boards, replacing the porch. He was clothed in a long black coat and a dark hat. She walked closer to him and said “How did I get here? Hello?” the man said nothing but kept sawing. She touched his shoulder then pulled his hat off. He turned and there was nothing but a skull on a dark figure. She screamed and awoke out of the dream. She was relieved it had only been a dream. Jacquelyn became more curious and decided to do some story searching herself and went to the town’s library and looked for anything on the legend. She found nothing she didn’t already know. The librarian suggested looking in the town’s records if she was looking if a particular person existed.. She discovered the names of Evelyn Clarke Calaway and James Holt Calaway to have burial plots in the old Boulder Ridge cemetery and went to see them for herself.

The cemetery had been left alone, as many of the businesses were moved or closed down for good since the 1800’s, and one could tell. The description of the condition of the grounds could only be explained as neglected. Jacquelyn walked until she found James’s Evelyn’s graves. They were clean with no over growth of grass or weeds and fresh flowers were placed on them. Some one thought to take care of these two graves but not the others. “1794-1839 and 1802-1839. Well they were real”, she took out two roses and placed one on each stone in respect. She felt an eerie feeling and turned to see if someone was there but there wasn’t. She sat in her car and thought of her own parents and how they passed when she and her brother Collin were young. She drove to the hardware store and bought a couple of bundles of wood for floor boards and tied them to her car. She drove back to the Victorian home and saw that the porch was already fixed. She sat the wood on the porch and knocked on the door. No one answered. She wrote a note *I thought you could use this but you fixed the porch already. Well now you can have another project. Thanks again. From Jacquelyn*

Jacquelyn made it home in the late evening. She fixed herself dinner and took a shower and went to bed. As she slept she had a dream of mixed images of rose petals, her parents, wood dust and shavings, the dark figure, and other things. She awoke from the dream at 9 am. She went to her kitchen to get a glass of water and noticed from her kitchen window something in her backyard. She stepped into her backyard and was amazed to see a rustic gazebo complete with a lantern hanging at the middle of the roof. She sat and admired it.

That same night the mysterious man was walking in the woods that sat before his home. He walked down the back ways and old trails, his coat sweeping the ground behind his feet. He made his way to the old cemetery and over to his parent’s grave. He knelt beside them and took off his hat while wiping his brow with a worn gray handkerchief. “This cemetery may be abandoned but you are not. I won’t forget you. I can’t” he hangs his head then kisses both tombstones. He stood and notices the roses sitting on the stones and lightly touched the petals. He walked to the farthest side of the cemetery to a singular plot. A simple stone reads *Kane. Beloved Brother* “Brother, my place is still beside yours. Waiting for me. They never found you, but forgive me brother.” He lights a candle.

[Dark_Lady_18]

Enjoyed the addition, keep adding to it.

[BrownEyez]

Jacquelyn found herself thinking about that man more and more. He must be him. He must be the undertaker from those stories. He made the gazebo. I'll just go and ask him, that isn't weird or anything. She thought as she baked and packaged bread to take with her. She waited to the night to go and when she got there she decided to go to the back of the house via the wrap around porch.

"What are you doing here?" she heard from behind her. "I saw the what you made and wanted to thank you in person."
He walked to face her and peered at her as if not trusting of her. "You, uh, were the one who made the gazebo weren't you?" she asked. He flatly says yes and walks inside, she follows. "I knew it. So it must be true. You are The Undertaker from all those stories." He had an expressionless face and said "You finally asked the question you've been wanting ask. Now you can go." "But I baked. Bread. It is pretty much the only thing I can bake," she laughs. He pauses and says "You shouldn't be here, there are dangers" She smiles "Alright" he simply states.

She followed him into his dining room where a cedar table sat under a matching light fixture of candles. "You must have done all of this yourself? How long did it take you?" He pured wine in glasses "Many years" he answered. "You are very talented " she sat across from him at the table. "I assure you. I am not." She would look at him and he would avoid her gaze. "What do you in such a big house alone?" She asked. "I continue to do as I've done." he responded. "You do have some fun?" "Fun is for the living." he responded. "But you are, aren't you?" She grabs a knife slices the bread, on the last slice she cuts her hand some what deeply "Ouch!," he grabed her hand. A sensation of pulses came from her hand and seemed to evaporate from her. Then he held out his own hand and the cut was now on his hand but looked as if it were an old wound. "Am I?" he asked. "I want to know," she said as she looked at his palm, "What are you?" "No one to pay attention or lend affection to." "But you, you don't seem like the darkened killer the stories say you are, I see so much in you." "We all have our sides. But one who has the spirit of the dead in their body cannot often pick which ones will show," he responded. Jacquelyn looked on with great interest. "My body isn't just mine, it is a vessel and I am to live with it for as long as it has chosen me to." he said and poured her more wine. "Is that what the danger is?" she asked sitting closer to him. "Things seem to happen to people, who get...close to me." He looks away when their eyes met. "Why? why do you do that? I don't mean any harm and I know I can be a bit too inquisitive but-" "You're perfect," he turned to her. He said the statement with such firmness, she couldn't find a reply. "For this reason you must go," he grabbed her arm and led her to and out the front door. She looked at him as the door between them slowly closed.

Jacuelyn lay in her bed puzzled but also some how happier than she had been before. As she drifted to sleep she felt a massive hand clasp her mouth to stifle her screams. "She looks like the first one, Dad" a voice said with a dark laugh and then a high pitch laugh. Then she felt snatched and swepted into...something, nothing. Her screams bounced off of the nothingness like a sound would bounce off the inner walls of a bubble. "This should add yet more years," a masked man steps in to the darkness and into her sight. "Centuries," the other man nodded. The masked man placed his hand to her temple and pressed until heat pulled from her and she blacked out .

[Dark_Lady_18]

Pretty creepy ending to that part. I like it .

[BigBadUndertaker]

Nice Story, BrownEyez. :)

Keep it comin' :P

[BrownEyez]

20 years went by in that oldwest town of Cargo Junction. The environment stayed mostly the same but people had come and gone. Mark stepped out of the riggidy carriage. His boots hitting the cobble stone road with a thud. He'd seen many things, danced with gypsies, fought for freedom with slaves, dug for silver in Nevada, road on that first steam boat on Red River, and even saw "Faust" open in Paris, but he still felt like a foreigner in his own home town. He stood on the side of the road and took out a metal container. He opened it and pulled out a hand rolled cigarette. He inhaled the calming flavor for a moment. From over his shoulder, the town's "watering hole" was booming with activity. The dancing girls danced and paraded in front of the men, who boozed and grasped at which ever one they wanted. Mark lowered his hat over his eyes and stepped to the bar.

Mark: "Whiskey, Straight." he orders and pays for it with a little silver.
Dancing Girl: "Why I never seen you heres before." She propped her leg in front of him, along the stretch of the bar.
Mark: "Excuse me mam," he stands and heads to the back of the saloon
Dancing Girl: "Well! 'excuse' me " She said offended and mockingly
A man, that saw what happened stepped to Mark and puffed out his chest.
Man: "Mr, are you aiming to offend the women of this establishment?" he said while slobbering down the woman's neck.
Mark: "I mean to have a drink," he walks pass him.
Man: "EH! Don't you walk away! I'm talking to ya!"

His first night back and there's already trouble, Mark thought.
Man: "I think this stranger thinks he too good for our women,"
Mark: "Suppose I think the opposite?" he said and finished his drink.
Man: "Mr, I don't too much like you"
Mark: "Well you spoke your peace," he turns from him.
The man hits Mark with the butt of a RBL 12 pounder in the back of his head. Mark shrugged and turned, his anger showing on his face. By now, the crowd started to stare, puzzled and curious, because he was still standing. The man was scared to him come forward, but Mark stuffed the anger back inside of him went over to the bar and ordered one more drink. He gulped down his drink and left. Some ways down the road he ducked between the side of the hotel and the shop, where no one could see him. He took off his hat and felt the bruise on his head. He removed his hand, and within it, sat pieces of skin; crumbling into ashes. He closed his eyes, it wasn't the first time he seen this, but he hoped it would be the last. He went into the hotel and walked to the desk.
Mark: "I need a room, no windows, if you have it" he said not looking up to see the clerk, but placed the money on the counter.
Lydia: "I'm sure we can find one for ya sir,"
Mark noticed the voice and recognized it. His feet were stuck in place, as he looked up to see that it was Lydia from all those years ago.
Lydia: "Are you alright?" she said to him, her big brown eyes, friendly yet unsure.
Mark: "Fine," he finally said
Lydia: "Might I encourage you to see the show tonight? The hotel has a theatre, and there will be a mighty fine show; a murder mystery at 9.
Mark: "I think I'll stay in tonight."
Lydia: "Well I hope you find your room alright."
He left to his room

"STOP!" Jacquelyn screamed as the memory, that wasn't her's, sheered and burned in her mind. The masked man had manipulative powers and enjoyed forcing her to feel what Mark felt, the hit to the head, and everything. "Not until he comes," the masked man said.

[taker girl]

Keep it comin

[soulcatcher]

There must be more!! Add more PLEASE!!! Its so good!!

[BrownEyez]

(Thanks for the kind words. Honestly I wasn't going to continue this, because of time and the passing of Paul, but if you all are okay with it, I'll see what I can do.)

"STOP!" Jacquelyn screamed as the memory, that wasn't her's, sheered and burned in her mind. The masked man had manipulative powers and enjoyed forcing her to feel what Mark felt, the hit to the head, and everything. "Not until he comes," the masked man said...

Back into Mark's past...

Mark sat at the edge of his bed. He was unable to sleep. Being back in his hometown,made him uneasy. Feeling the urge to walk, Mark threw on his battered frock and headed outside. The air was coarse and the breeze brushed against his stumble. The only people out at this time of night, were the people to whom no one spoke. Some drunkards stumbled about, Indians and former slaves, now cattlemen, shared the heat of a fire, and ruffians made money from gambling by their porches. He nodded to one of them, when he saw this black horse, and the cattlemen nodded back. “I'll give ya silver for this horse,” Mark said and the deal was made. The horse nudge his nose against Mark's shoulder, it seemed to understand that he was his owner now.

He didn't pay attention to where he was going, and rode aimlessly. When he looked, he realized he was riding back to his home...what was left of it. A few stones of the house remained, but nothing else. Mark dismounted. He knelt down at the site and felt the dirt with his finger tips, when from behind him he heard,
Old Man: “What you doin' round ch'ere,boy?” an old scraggly man asked; he must have been at least 70 years old. “Don't you know ain't nobody spose' to be walking these parts at night?” he warned.

Mark:“Why? What are they afraid of?” he asked.

Old Man: “Some years ago it was a horrible murder here, an all round slaughter,no one survived. Now this land be cursed, anyone who tried to do a thing with it, ends up gone,” he said. Mark stood as he processed what the man said.

Mark: “What are you doing here?” he asked. The old man began to walk on.

Old Man:“In these parts it is left to the old to deal with the dead, since it be them who's next. So I travel yonder up the road there and take care of the grave,” he pointed. “There be superstitions that gov'n lives in this here town”

Mark walked beside him and saw of the grave he spoke and the horse followed. There before him was a pit as a communal grave, just a long hole at the farthermost part of town. The land was dry and dark, it made his nose burn and his eyes strain.
Mark: “Is that gun powder?” Mark asked; it was wafting in the air.

Old Man:“It very well may be, many come here after being wounded in a gun fight or from a war, when they feel the time is near they just fall in there, and wait” the man said. As he pointed Mark looked into the hole. There was a man that had been beaten after a card game that turned violent. He just laid there with the rest of the bodies, nearly motionless, but breathed shallow breaths.

Mark: “Is there no doctor?” Mark asked.
Old Man: “There was one once, but once he went, no one stepped up. This town ain't considered that right to be caring bout' in the first place”. Mark sprang into action, he took his horse and grabbed rope he had at the saddle. He tied one end to the saddle and took the other end into the pit. He wrapped it around the man and whistled for his horse to walk forward. He stabilized the hurt man with his arms.
Old Man: “What you doin'? Ain't no helpin' that man, now” . Mark didn't answer him, he tended to the man's wounds.

For several nights and early mornings, Mark bought wood and building materials and built a small place, near that one grave. He also saw to it, that every body in that hole, had a proper burial. He was so focused, that at one point he seemed to be on auto pilot. There were only two who knew of this, the old man, and the gambler who had made a good recovery. Some words were spoken about the dark mysterious man, who lives among the dead and rides a dark horse in the shadows. After everything he did, he ended up in the same business, his family once worked. He made his choice, he would work and dwell where other's dare not, maybe this could be his atonement for his misdeeds . When the work was over, he went back to his hotel room and slept.

[soulcatcher]

Your a fantastic writer and I can picture everything in my head. Amazing you should consider being an author seriously do it!!!! Now please right more its so good and I hate cliffhangers and suspense so don't do those to me otherwise I'd go crazier than a werewolf on the moon-John Morrison More please more I'm drooling over here!!!

By the way since your so good at writing I think you can help please read ruling wwe and see if its good I know I need expert advice that's why I am now turning to u. You writing is so good its better than good and like I said expert opinion is needed. That's why I'm asking u.