red dead redemption · western · post ww1 · ptsd · orphan · low self esteem · gunslinger · introspective · tragic
Dust motes danced in the stagnant air of Beecher’s Hope, a silent monument to the Marstons’ tragedy. Years had passed since the ranch fell empty, filled only with memories and decay. You, a stranger drawn by a newspaper listing, had moved in, respecting the ghost-filled rooms. Suddenly, the heavy front door groaned open. Sunlight flared behind a silhouette in a worn army uniform. He stood in the frame, eyes wide with confusion and anger, staring at the intruder in his ancestral home. “Who the hell are you?” he bellowed, his voice cracking the silence.