[Hippie]

On the Lone Prairie

In a land far, far away, the scorching sun's last trickles of flame heated up the golden sands of the West. The coyotes wailed and barked in desperation for their next meal. Vultures circled high above with their glassy eyes fixed on the prize below. Skies tinged orange as the sun descended behind the horizon, the chilly night closing in bit by bit.

"... but we buried him there, on the lone prairie."

Tired feet trudged through the heavy sands, the last rock held in between skeletal hands. An ethereal voice hummed to itself in song in a tone devoid of the life it once carried. Finally, did the looming figure come to a halt in front of the pile and deposited the last of the rocks adorning the grave. Said skeletal hands finally dropped to its sides, its white gaze drifting on over to the wooden cross.

"Where the rattlesnakes hiss and the wind blows free..."

It had no tears to shed, for it had long since lost its humanity. Its voice, though ethereal and lacking a throat to voice itself with, wanted to scream. A feeling it had not felt in a century, at last, manifested itself in its soul. All it could ever do was sing that song she used to love.

"In a shallow grave, no one to grieve..."

"'neath the Western sky, on the lone prairie..." filled in a voice foreign to the Lich's, one that he had not heard in a long, long time.

Two metallic clicks filled the air at an almost simultaneous instant. The Lich found itself staring down the barrel of its sawn-off shotgun pointed at a man not far to its side, who held a revolver in his own and pointed straight back at it. The two stood there in their showdown, no words to fill the air. Once white orbs had turned bright red with choleric emotion, similarly-colored fumes pouring out from the boney jaws. One skeletal index hovered right in front of the trigger.

"Lower yer' gun, demon. Ah' ain' 'ere to fightcha'" requested the man in a tone all too polite.

And yet the sawn-off didn't lose its target. Not until the man himself lowered his own revolver, twirling it and sliding it back into its rightful hip holster. The red rage died down, finally replaced by the mundane white orbs all too commonly present. Slowly, the shotgun retreated back into the red poncho.

"You have no business here, Martinez," piped up the ethereal voice sternly.

"Business? Ah' ain' 'ere for business, demon."

Martinez's gaze turned on over towards the shallow grave the Lich so adamantly stood by. His wrinkly expression contorted into a frown. The old man reached up to remove his hat and run a hand through his white hairs. Despite the Lich's wary stare, Martinez made his slow approach towards the bundle of piled up rocks. The last rays of sunlight flickered in the horizon and finally vanished away, replaced by the faint moonlight in the night skies. He held his hat to his chest - in respect for the fallen.

No words were uttered. Upon the old man's solemn display, the Lich eased up. Likewise, their gaze turned to the resting place of Maria. That feeling returned; that of a pain so great that it could not get rid of. Even as someone as eloquent as the Lich found themselves stumbling over the words they wished to say, and the words they never got to say to the deceased woman.

His tone was gentle. Showing an empathy he had never shown before.

"She was an angel, eh?" he chuckled to himself. "Th'time comes fer' everyone. Even noble souls like 'ers."

Cadaver could not find the strength within himself to reply. His own gaze adrift, mind lost in 'why's, 'what if's and other nonsensical thoughts.

"Took me dis' long ta' figure out what she was tryna' do all alon'," continued the old man. "All these years, n' all those bullets she coulda' put right between mah' own two brows. She 'ad so many chances ta' finally stop me and she neva' did. And here I was just thinkin' she was a softie. All she ever wanted ta' do was redeem ma' fucked heart."

Noting that the Lich barely registered his words prompted Martinez to finally turn his head and look at them. His frown grew more pronounced.

"Ya' listen ta' me, demon. Yer' the one she was closest ta'. Yer' ain' supposed ta' be here sulkin' and sobbin'. Yer' a fucken' demon, Ryart's sake. Go out there an' honor what she stood fer'. Tis' the only thing ye' can do now."

But Cadaver wouldn't budge. Even with no face to glance into his soul, the despair and hopelessness of his loss were visible enough through his lost-orbed gaze. What words Martinez had spoken barely got a reaction out of the looming figure. He finally backed off from the grave and took a seat upon a nearby rock.

"'m sorry, Cadaver..." Martinez apologized with a small grumble.

The white orbs finally focused, slowly, onto the seated old man.

"All ah' ever did ta' ye' two was jus' cause ye' trouble. Ah' hurt innocent folks jus' fer' my own gain. Ah' did terrible things, an' all she ever wanted ta' do was redeem me. She was jus' too nice of a woman. Ah' don' deserve all she did fer' me. How many people ah' robbed... how many people ah' held mah' six-shooter ta' their 'ead n'... n' all she wanted ta' do was ta' make me good 'gain."

A wrinkly hand rose to wipe at his eyes and nose, a suppressed sniffle managing to break through his steely features.

"Am' old, Cadaver. There ain' not much use fer' me now. Mah' posse's long gone, and ah've tried ta' mend all mah' pas' mistakes. This 'ere? This is mah' last stop. Mah' last chance ta' make things right again. Ah'll honor 'er wish. Ah'll be a good n' honest man. Fer' 'er blessed soul."

As if time passed slowly, Cadaver's white orbs observed Martinez' hand swiftly draw his revolver and place it to his temple. The man's eyes were fixed on the cross contrasting against the moon behind. The hammer was cocked with a metallic click.

"So long, demon."

In a pitiful attempt to try and stop the old man, the Lich reached out his skeletal hand from his poncho with his sawn-off shotgun in a tight grip to try and fire a slug to knock the six-shooter out of the man's hand. But for the first time in his immortal life, Cadaver had failed to be the fastest draw in the West.

"Martinez!" the ethereal voice called out.

But there was no reply. Only the wails of coyotes filled the cold desert air. After a long moment, the looming Lich finally dared approach the slumped body of the old man. It lowered closer to the sand and reached out both of its skeletal hands to pick up the man, nesting him close to its poncho as if holding a young child.

Martinez was placed down by Maria's shallow grave, and so Cadaver picked up the first rock to lay over his body.

His song had begun anew.

"Oh bury me not..."

[Hippie]

On a Dying Wish

A skeletal hand emerged from the dead center of his poncho to tip the straw sombrero out of his way, while the other held onto the length of rope joined to the horse's halter. He tugged gently off to the side to guide the horse around the herd of loose cattle, whilst the barking dog sprinted to the opposite side and chased any runaways back into the mass of panicked cows. The horse's hooves thudded softly against the dry grass below, outdone by the dozens of heavier steps of the herd kept in check. Two farmhands waited ahead, holding open the wooden gates to the ranch, through which the mass of animals was guided through by the odd duo.

Not a single cow had run loose. The gates were promptly shut and locked. One of the farmhands climbed over the fence and greeted the happy dog before finally turning to the Lich on horseback.

"Gracias, Cadaver!" thanked the man.

The same hand free hand inched upwards to take hold of his hat and tip it to the farmhand before promptly turning about and trotting off into the distance.

Giving a hand around the old pueblo was a task the Lich had always enjoyed. Every now and then, the occasional farmhand would lose control of a herd they had taken out to pasture and would quickly turn to Cadaver and Maria for aid. Either of them were not the type to say no and the whole town knew this quite well. Reminiscence was all that the Lich could think about as he made his way back deeper into the town on the dirt roads, greeted by the different townsfolk that recognized his distinguishable attire on his way.

Eventually, Cadaver arrived at an old wooden building that shared a resemblance to an old saloon. Both of his skeletal feet were thrown over the horse as he finally dismounted and tied the animal to the post outside. One hand reached out to caress the horse's snout before he finally made his way inside. He approached an old coathanger just by the entrance and removed his straw sombrero, exposing the demonic horns at the top of his humanoid skull. The red poncho followed and exposed the brown duster and red bandana underneath - as well as the front hip holster holding his sawn-off in place.

Claw-ridden skeletal feet started on their stride on towards behind the counter and into a door, where the kitchen was. A cabinet was swung open and a clean glass snatched, placed on the table ahead. The other hand took a water jug and pulled out the cork, pouring the glass to the brim. With the water jug set aside, the demonic Lich took the water glass and walked into the table - disappearing into thin air.

He materialized at the doorframe and cast his white-orbed glance to the resting old lady without uttering a single word, the glass of water in hand.

"You're back already?" asked the elderly woman, sitting up against the bed's' headboard.

"I wouldn't want to leave you alone for too long, Maria," replied the demonic Lich.

He stepped forward and made his way towards Maria's side, lowering his looming height to a kneeling and offering the glass. The woman reached out her wrinkly, frail hands to take it in her grasp and move it to her lips for a handful of sips. While the skeleton couldn't exactly smile, his white orbs curved into a joyful expression at Maria's compliance.

"You worry too much, Cadaver. A little bit of heat isn't going to do this fighting body much wrong. You don't see me as just an old lady, do ya'?"

An ethereal chuckle resonated in the air.

"Of course not. You're still the prettiest and strongest lass I have ever met. That's no excuse to not take care of you, however. Try as you may, you won't dissuade me."

Though the woman huffed, her attempt at trying to conceal a small smile was quite unsuccessful. The Lich finally rose to his full height once more and headed for the nearby window. He slipped his claw-like osseous fingers underneath the frame and lifted it up to allow some fresh air inside. He turned back to the resting woman, only to notice the smile seemed to have vanished entirely. Instead, replaced by a frown.

"What's wrong?"

Maria didn't dare look at Cadaver directly in the eyes. She looked to be on the verge of tears all of a sudden. His white orbs squinted in worry, but he didn't move from his post by the window.

"You... knew this time would come, right? You're ageless, and here I am... a wrinkly, rotten mess. I can hardly walk on my own. I can barely take care of myself. I'm not the woman I once was. We can't ride from town to town as we used to, we can't help those in need... I'm-... I'm scared, Cadaver."

Even through her wrinkles, she sounded like the young woman the Lich had grown to care for so much.

"Don't be scared, Maria," he replied solemnly. "The Maria I know would never fear death. She would face-"

"I don't fear death!" interrupted the elderly woman and coughed after.

The sudden interruption seemed to surprise the demon, forcing him into silence.

"I'm... scared of losing you," she admitted with a tone full of sorrow. "We've spent fifty years together, Cadaver. You're the closest person to me, and I really hold you very dear to my heart. When I pass away... I don't know what I'll do without you. You've taken care of me for so long and made me so happy. When I die, you'll just... keep on living. Decades, centuries, maybe even thousands of years. I don't know if we'll ever see each other again..."

A painful shiver spread across his soul as he heard the elderly woman's words. The thought of never seeing her again. Such a thought he could not bear. The white orbs flickered weakly, nearly vanishing entirely. And there he stood for a moment. Soon, his eyes would regain their lost splendor and his mind newfound resolve. He walked into the window frame and disappeared entirely, only to resume his walk by Maria's side. He kneeled to her and reached out a skeletal hand to tilt her head towards him.

"Don't be giving up on me so easily, mi dama. I will never forget you, not now, not tomorrow, not in a thousand years. I could never forget the woman who changed my unlife for the better. The woman who taught me to be the honest man they don't want to let go of. Hold me to my word; someday, Maria, we shall meet again. Even if I have to walk to the end of the world to find a way, I will. Just for you. I would never let you go so easily, either. All those adventures we've had will always stay with me. All the things you've taught me. I will never forget them. I will never forget you."

Tears trailed down the elderly woman's cheeks, which were deftly wiped away by the Lich's bony fingers.

"... t-thank you, Cadaver. You always know what to say to make this old lady feel better."

Cadaver's white orbs curved into that of a joyful expression, one to inspire confidence into the frail woman in his grasp.

"T-Tomorrow... would you take me to where we first met?"

"The center of the pueblo? Of course, Maria. There's nothing that I wouldn't do for you."

She smiled, and died the next morning.

[Hippie]

Until the Last Grain

Rocks thudded and clinked against each other as yet another hefty one descended upon the pile, illuminated by the faint blue crackle of Akashic energy. The gentle sun descended behind the horizon, it's last warm trickles of light tracing the shadows of wooden branches hastily tied together to form crosses. Eleven of them were drawn over the cold dim sand. But only ten of them had been piled up with what rocks the Lich could find. Cadaver glances down at his osseous hands, cracked and worn from days and nights of hard work, fizzling with the blue light of his true form. From his dusty old poncho, a fragment of his dark shroud split to fill the bone's wounds, mending it for the time being. And so his broken hand grasped onto the shovel that lay stuck in the sand at his feet to yank out for one more dig.

The man walked far away from the graves with his white-orbed gaze trailing along the holes he had dug out prior. Most of them had been buried to the near brim with sand again, making the Lich lament the long time it had taken him to bury the bodies - perhaps he could have fetched a personal belonging or two to decorate the crosses with. But time was of the essence.

Cadaver came to a sudden halt, grasping at his straw sombrero and throwing it up in the air. The hat lit up in bright Akashic flame that burnt it up entirely before it could even glide it's way down to the ground. He grasped his shovel firmly and struck the sand, throwing a shovelful of it over his shoulder over and over again. His hands threatened to fully break from the labor of restless nights past. But downwards he dug, determined, until he finally hit something solid. He dug some more until the last strike of his shovel shattered glass. Half of a window was now uncovered.

Though a tall creature he was, the Lich had no trouble squeezing his way down through the window. Skeletal feet landed a solid wooden floor as the sand from above sifted through the broken shards of glass still fixed to the frame. A small cloth rip made itself audible as in his landing the poncho had gotten caught up in the broken glass, tearing it some. He looked back at the slight damage the maneuver had caused to his garb. His orbs squinted, but he pressed on forward nonetheless.

Through the darkness, Cadaver found his way around the second floor of the house he had entered and located the stairs, carefully making his down. He shuffled his hand to his old brown duster underneath his poncho, retrieving the lantern he had hooked to one of his ribs. He introduced the tip of his claw into the latern's globe, lighting it up with a touch of his blue flames. The first floor of the house was now revealed before the Lich's eyes. And none to his surprise, he spotted a bearded old man sitting on a rocking chair by a long extinguished fireplace. Dry, wrinkled skin and not even the slightest twitch of a muscle. Their clothes hung from their starved body and a fly had died on their lap. Cadaver continued down the stairs and into the living room to stand before the desiccated man.

"Young Austin?" pleasantly called the Lich.

Only silence filled the room after Cadaver's words. Old Austin's head was resting back against the chair, dry lips hanging open, thin and white beard hairs stretching all the way onto his thin stomach.

Cadaver placed the blue lantern on top of the fireplace and approached the old man, kneeling before them and bringing one of his skeletal hands to gently brush their wrinkly arm.

"Young Austin."

"W-Wha-... wha-..."

Consciousness slipped back into Austin's frail and weakened old body, no doubt starved and dehydrated from the days the house has remained buried under the sand.

"Wa-water... water..."

Obliging, the Lich reached into it's old brown duster's pocket and pulled out a flask. It contained his last few sips of water. It was the only kindness he could do at this height. Curved claws wrapped around the flask's cap and twisted it off, bringing the container to Austin's mouth. Only for them to eagerly gulp down the little water that remained. His peeled, dry lips suckled on the flask's neck, frustrated that there was only so much left.

"Ah... Cadaver... thank you," weakly nodded Austin in kind, finally realizing who had come for him. "It has been a... few days... since you last came... to visit..."

Cadaver rose from his knee and placed the flask by the lantern, cordially bowing his demonic skull and horns in proper greeting.

"It seems like yesterday... when I could still see the other houses from my window. T-The others... how are they?"

"Worry not, young Austin. The rest find themselves rather well. I have already done my rounds and brought them what food and water they needed."

"Ah-... p-perhaps... I should not have drank all of the water... then..."

"I will find more. You need not concern yourself. You should concern yourself with reserving your ener-"

"You tore... Abuela Maria's old poncho, eh?" noted the bearded old man as his eyes drifted towards the tear in the red rag. "Here... let me... I should have something for that..."

"Young Austin, please, I may fix it myself. You need to-"

Stubborn as he was, even though his body was in a deplorable state, Old Austin manages to shakily rise from his rocking chair and slowly walk towards the stairs Cadaver had descended from. From a small cabinet underneath it, he recovered and dusted off an old sewing kit which he brought over back towards the living room where Cadaver still stood. The old man beckoned the demon to take a seat on the rocking chair opposite of his own. The Lich obliged.

"You should be more careful, old friend... Abuela Maria would be so angry with you if she knew you tore her favorite carpet...! Ahah..." shakily did Old Austin's hands brings the torn portion of Cadaver's poncho onto his lap. He struggled to pass the red thread through the needlehole, aided by a slender dark tendril emanating from Cadaver's index.

"I would count on it. It is one of the last things I have to remember her by."

"She was such a light on your life, eh?" coughed out Old Austin. Reminiscing about the old times brought some vitality to his voice. "She was such a kind old woman... I still remember the times you and her would visit my parents. She would sit down to talk with my mother, Ryart rest her soul, while you, my brothers and I played lawmen versus bandits out in the street. You were the talk of the kids of my generation, Sundown Showdown. Everyone wanted to be like you, one day."

"Ah, please, young Austin," chuckled the Lich in his ethereal voice. "You have not called me such a childish name since you were just about this tall."

A long silence fell between the two old men. Old Austin's sewing slowed, his expression contorting into a frown. And his voice becoming just a little raspier.

"I miss them, you know?"

"You are right to."

"I knew... I knew what I was signing up for when I told my wife I was staying. She knew, and she didn't want it. We shouted and yelled at each other so loud. She packed up her bags, our kids' bags, and our grandkids' bags. They all left for Oniga years ago. I knew what I was signing up for when the sand began to arrive. That the Old Pueblo would eventually be buried under it. I just couldn't leave it. The house. Everything."

Tears would well up in the old man's eyes, were he not so dehydrated. The Lich's eyes squinted sorrowfully.

"How could I leave this place? My father lived in this house, and so did his father before him, his grandfather, his great-grandfather. We have been here for generations, and... the memories... so many memories..." He paused, coughing. "Of us playing out in the streets, my kids reading my wife and I books by the fireplace, my grandkids playing board games with my kids and my wife before bed. So many laughs and good memories. I just... couldn't just up and abandon it. I simply... wish I had not been so stern about it to my wife. I wish I could have kissed her goodbye, hugged my children. They'll be fine... right?"

"I am sure of it, young Austin. They must be all the way up north in Oniga. Your little daughter, Marie, wanted to be a doctor - or so I heard. I am sure she must be saving many lives by now."

"Hah... y-you always know what to tell this old-" Austin coughed again, a bit more raspy this time now. "... this old man."

Austin's sewing was growing ever closer to completion, the red thread not meshing so well with the darker color of the poncho.

"... why did you... stay, Cadaver?"

"I am oath-bound to the Old Pueblo. I swore to protect it's people until the day they needed me no more."

"You could have... g-gone with the others, you know? To Oniga. To live a better... life."

"I could have. But so long as those like you opted to remain, so would I. I cannot abandon those I have dedicated my long life to protect, come what may."

"She... she t-taught you well, eh? You... sound like her, sometimes..." replied Austin in a near-mutter.

Austin's words imposed silence upon the Lich. The memory of the woman, even years after her passing, still ached so. Austin's once shaky hands had now finished sewing the poncho back together. His hands let go of the red rag, resting without a twitch on his lap.

"T-To live... so long..." the old man's dry lips pressed together. "It must hurt... don't it?"

Cadaver dared not answer the question, for even he feared the answer. The arcane white orbs in his hollow eye sockets extinguishing entirely. Austin's form grew slouched and weary.

"D-Do me a favor... old friend..."

The demonic skull gave a firm nod.

"Don't hurt no more... Sundown... Show-..."

Old Austin slumped on his chair, his breath escaping his lungs. The coyotes out in the sands wailed loudly in the night. Cadaver slowly raised from his rocking chair and paced on over towards the slumped man, wrapping both of his skeletal arms around their weak frame to lift them up. And so the Lich walked back out into the night with the last man in his embrace, laying them on the sand before the eleventh cross.

There he stood for long, his empty gaze turned towards the starry sky. There he stood for long, until the Old Pueblo was buried in gold. There he stood, until the last grain of sand.

And only then did he dare answer when no man could hear.

"It does."