n the shady forest of savanna the sun was shining which seemed

very hot but beautiful at the same time. Filled with brownish
green grass with very few trees. Under the Fillicium tree, there is a
19 year old young man, with his left leg tucked into his right leg
who sits casually, slings a banjo on top of his leg and sings while
playing the banjo and the harmonica into his mouth which he
sounds as accompaniment to the banjo. "Oh Sussana, don't you
cry for me. I come from Blackwater with a banjo on my knee." His
voice was very melodious, really tenor even though his Adam's
apple was very thick so it would be very painful if hit by someone.
His appearance was like an outlaw in general, with a slight
modification of a light brown coat, a red bandana covering his
chest, with a striped T-shirt with shape patterns -have a coherent
Mexican style. At that time we were in Mexico City to enjoy very
sweet mangoes with very good genetics. Likewise with the view of
the steep hills which are very challenging. It is not uncommon to
hear the story of a driver. personal horse or cart driver who drove
here and there for a fee of 5 dollars per 1KM. I don't know how to
measure it. But often seen the coachman looks carefully at a black-
gray compass. Not the original color is a combination of black and
gray, but mixed with dust. Mexico's exotic Rockin Bobbin desert.
It looks like they have an affinity for bun objects darling that
savior of life. Unlike the knight in the floats, he really enjoyed
incline after incline, turn after incline which was very steep and
sharp without any fear and shaking at all. Indeed, the people
around him have seen him like a person having fun without a clear
purpose and direction in life. All day long all he did was ride a
horse colored a mixture of light brown, dark brown and white so
that people licked their lips. Not because they have sexual
attraction to animals, but the color is like coffee combined with
milk. So tantalizing! A follower of Extential Nihilistic. A
mysterious observer in a black coat with a white shirt and a circus
hat with a magic wand flicked his bushy mustache with his
beloved wand. It seems that he is very interested in that person.
The mysterious man is called "Mysterio" because his whereabouts
are a mystery. It could be on a cliff with a height of 8 meters, then
jump, then the next day appear in the same place. Really
confusing! On the banjo, which is held like a sword while riding its
horse, named Milfee, which is a combination of the words "Milk"
and "Coffee", there is a definite scratch of a sharp object with the
words "Jack Milton", that is the name of the optimistic nihilistic.
Jack does not care at all about Mysterio's existence, who for him is
just like a middle age man who spends the rest of his time with the
money he gets from performing in a makeshift opera without
family. Regarding the mystery of his appearance, the half-
adolescent has the logic that it could be that the middle age
nihilistic man is perched on a small, invisible branch, entering a
hole that actually fits his fat body size. Even more convincing, no
one had ever seen it from the front in person. There was also a
time when a 12 year old child said that someone who looked like
Mysterio in a tramp-like outfit came out of a round door that was
so tightly fitting that it was difficult to reach with the naked eye.
Jack's stomach was rumbling, so he decided to return to where he
lived. As usual, Jack accepted all offers in the form of assistance,
especially money or those in need of assistance or assistance. In
the midst of Castle Rock that doesn't live up to its name, walk
along Fort Herger, an abandoned Mexican outlaw stronghold.
This year is 1912, definitely before the 1900s. Intrigued by the
contents inside, Jack entered the fort. He found a piece of wet
paper mining in the tunnel which was already filled. The paper
was oily, maybe it would float. Without hesitation, he took a neatly
rolled paper, tied with twisted pieces of wheat leaves in a vertical
and horizontal line, and in the middle there was a small red circle.
It seems that it is hundreds of years old, even tens of centuries ago,
like a rusty roll of paper put in a bottle and buried in the beach
sand by pirates as a message or treasure or just for fun to deceive.
The letter said, "Go back to your house, there is nothing here."
Jack's spirit of stoicism immediately ignited and burst out
laughing. Incidentally, it was already early days, he brought the
letter as a memento. Halfway through the road, he found a
charming woman with a tone that seemed very religious. Falling
down on the ground and asking for help from God. Seeing that
scene he immediately walked casually as if he was waiting for him.
The meeting began with a stupid question, "How are you ma'm?"
The face of a girl that age started to frown. Of course, their ages
were closely related, perhaps just months or even dates. "Am I do
something wrong?" The atmosphere that was initially silent
became even more silent. Even more foolish, he showed her the
letter that made the wave's heart beat twice as fast. Of course he
did it to break the ice. Indeed, the mind of a teenager who has just
walked for three years to adulthood is very unpredictable, who
must always take advantage of all available opportunities, never
think of bad things as bad luck, but opportunities to achieve
something. What did he want to achieve? Absolutely not identified
by anyone's reasoning. In essence, whatever he wanted at that
moment. His long, thick, cat-like mustache was beaming with joy.
His beard and beard were neatly cut with his own hunting knife
until it was barely visible, without the slightest wound or scar. He
unrolled the letter, then said "Thank you". Not understanding
what he meant, Jack immediately answered "You're welcome". He
left the woman without caring about her next situation. On the
way, Jack did not think anything about what had just happened,
until finally arriving at a large stable, there were outer and inner
gates of the giant empty barn. Each cage has a pile of hay to cover
the smell of human penolon animal waste. There is only one stable
containing a horse which is none other than Milfee. At the T-
junction to the right of the warehouse, there is a house for
occupants. It is very clear that the rmah was built by at least four
people with minimal design but of high quality. More precisely, it
was built with the same sect without paying anyone. About one
week the building was made. But why didn't Jack live in a place
that would be so much more comfortable? I do not know, he really
enjoyed everything in himself and what he had. Milfee's cage was
made as comfortable as possible, with a dark blue mat on which to
base, a green blanket over her body, a cup of coffee to drink. No
wonder when pitted against other horses, Milfee is the champion
in running. The next day, it was seen that the uninhabited house
entered. The atmosphere is bright, it doesn't look like a historical
heritage museum at all. Apparently the place was only used as a
room to do whatever he wanted, such as reading, writing, to just
eating. His daily routine feels extraordinary to him, namely
picking berries that grow in the hallway tree of his secret room to
give to Milfee, while he eats Coyote, Elk, Wolf, and other wild
animals that he hunts if he wants. It's not uncommon to get no
food at all in a day, so you eat the same fruit. Until one day he
returned to riding without direction, he passed a "Fragile Bridge"
which was famous for its mysteriousness which always collapsed,
but never suffered more damage than before, even with five riders
at once. But this time it was different, right at that time the two of
them immediately fell from a height of approximately 8 meters.
How to do it, it turns out that at the bottom of the desert sand
there is a hole filled with a pile of soft straw, it is actually at the
bottom. A little mouse perched out just before Jack fell with a
reflex roll to the right, knowing that Milfee was about to fall on
him. There appeared before his eyes a stagnant river, or rather a
pond. Yes, it is a pool. The gaze above was already dark, glistening
with white dots that he ridiculously thought were clusters of stars
in the sky in broad daylight. There was absolutely no visible hole
where he fell. Rarely cleaning the body, immediately plunge into
the pool which is definitely very cold. The pool was about the size
of his body to the shoulder, so he avoided death because he could
not swim. A footrest eel that was causing her legs to cramp for a
minute. When taking a walk by the water that from the middle
looks at the end of the horizon like a river flowing into a place. His
clothes were not removed at all because he was alert that he would
definitely be trapped for a very long time. From afar, there was a
fireplace complete with a small black bucket that was supposed to
be used for mopping half-filled water, hanging neatly over the
firewood. The edges are strung with unnecessary pebbles,
seemingly just decoration. Jack chuckled in awe and amazement.
It seems like a criminal has never done anything similar. Actually
it is not impossible, but just lazy. As well as revenge, he stabbed
the eel many times while holding back the shock. He picked up to
put it in the bucket. Incidentally, he was trapped in a cold room
inhabited except for himself for a human count for 5 consecutive
hours. It turned out that during that time he was also soaking in
the cold air while sleeping on the edge of a comfortable gravel pile.
I don't know what material the designer of the place used that he
used to live in. To be precise, why would that person isolate
himself in a lonely place like this? Jack was not at all afraid,
according to his view of life not to regret anything that happened
in his life. He already knows about the answer to his question
earlier. Yes, Mysterio is the owner of that place, having
subconsciously entered his territory. The eel which was already
half-gossed was lifted and threw it with his hunting knife by
gouging out the bottom. With reflexes that have been trained,
immediately catch it with a gloved hand of course. He ate it
straight away without worrying about the withered teeth as a
result of which fresh animals were very special for people who
starved for hours. Slowly, I heard the familiar sound of phantom
shoes. Yes, Mysterio. In the hand holding a paper that is no less
familiar. "Good afternoon, young man. How was your hunting
activity? Before answering, it occurred to him that he was the
same self, asking a similar question to a 70-year-old FBI agent. 30
years older than an unsolved mystery, with a similar face, with
more obvious wrinkles, a funny face, but contrary to his character.
I don't know, when Jack was 16 years old, watching from a very far
distance, someone was shot by a group of USA soldiers led by that
person, with a cigar in his mouth like doing a light job. The agent's
name is Mr Ross. A distinctive black ribbon tie with a light brown
coat that Jack later stole as a memento. The man who was shot fell
slowly, starting from the one who was stuck in a standing state,
kneeling in a matter of 10 seconds, and falling to the ground in no
less long seconds. The man was none other than Jack's father,
John Milton. His mother, Mrs. Milton, died shortly thereafter, in a
span of 3 years, the same year that his only son performed the act.
Remembering what his mother said when he wanted to be a
Gunslinger when he grew up, which was replied with the words
"Over my dead body!" At that time she was 5 years old, not
enough to take these words seriously until 14 years later Mrs.
Milton died of Tuberculosis which was also caused by her uncle,
even though the cause was actually a "rat". Exactly the day after
his revenge, he realized that it had brought nothing, so in a
whisper, "Revenge is the most stupid thing". Recorded Mysterio
whispering "Yeah right." Within seconds, after the flashback of the
last 14 years of his life, something was up. If so, what about his
uncle who has his “Lumbago” disease. Lumbago itself is a lower
back pain whose reports work. Not infrequently Mr. Milton kicks
his lower back. Her hair is only on the edge of the hole in the
middle. But Mysterio is very strong. Then he took off his hat, and
"Bam", "I recovered from back pain, son!" Her grandfather and
uncle immediately embraced the boundaries. "How did uncle's
back become that sedater?" In the same humorous voice, he
recounted his experience of meeting a woman with a blonde wave
insight who was given a bottle of "hoch". "Did he fall on the
ground? How are things now? “, Jack asked in panic. “Yes, that's
why I gave him my bottle of hoch. Previously, his face was already
smiling as if someone like you had visited him. " "Where is she
now?" "I have no idea. But it seems that when he got up and
walked, the direction was right in the direction of our house first.
But how does he find out? " Jack excitedly said, "Let's quickly get
from here and to our house first!" "Just you. Let me take care of
your horse. Before avenging the soul of the adult teenager, he is
excited to run a marathon towards the haystack which to him is
like the house of Papa Bronte he visited when he was five years old,
with his delicious spaghetti. Right after leaving, Uncle whispered
"Red Harlow is back." The taro teenager who just found
something ran the 5 meter marathon while panting until he
slipped into a cliff, but returned to running without stretching his
back like Uncle. Arriving at their destination, he smashed the
warehouse door. There is no one. Of course, “my girl” is in her old
house, cooking the spaghetti “Papa Bronte” that has become
famous since kidnapping a little boy who is none other than her.
The white print "Made in 1898" is proof of this. He smelled the
scent he had left for the past 14 years. Is it expired? Of course not,
because Jack had been a true customer since leaving. Knowing
this fact is very easy for him because he is a "hoboing" traveler
who wanders here and there without a clear direction and purpose
until he finds many new things that he wrote in a large book he
found in a bookstore "Harlow's Library" which is what it is with. a
collection of the youngest old books published in 1899. His
favorite books are "Wildwest Mystery", "Johnny The Kid",
"Outlaw's Journey" which averages 300 pages. Unlike the boys
who liked picture stories, they preferred books full of writings.
The illustrations in the form of writing actually made him feel
challenged to explore them again and again. It is not uncommon
for him to spend days in the giant book room to find the meaning
without opening the dictionary, but only to contemplate it until he
is carried away by a dream to turn one of the words he does not
understand into an extremely interesting story.. "Papa Bronte!" A
spoiled sweet voice came from the kitchen, "Who called my
father?" "Me!", Said Jack with a feeling of joy that can not be
described in words. His imagination was dragging on and on,
getting intoxicated by romance for the first time at the right age.
"Angelo Bronte is your father?" "Yyy ... Yes, how do you know?"
"You said it yourself, what's your name?" Of course normal people
will respond according to the question, "Brenda Bronte". The two
of them sat on the bench that was already 7 years old, Jack shared
his experience with what happened to him with Papa Bronte.
Brenda was a little embarrassed by this fact and apologized. Even
though it was only a small threat to the old outlaw gang who had
been far apart, someone became a writer, married someone who
had nothing to do with the world of crime, let alone a gun battle,
or disappeared into the earth or seemed to be alienating himself
like himself from a middle age woman. "Who is cruel and thirsty
for wealth. It's too cool to talk until the legendary food is burnt
with the ai stove still burning. Uncle saw that with a big grin,
leaving the two of them, tying Milfee in the place that was already
7 years old too. The soul of writer Jack was unstoppable. A day
later Jack prepared the pen and paper that Brenda brought to
write her story entitled "Red Dead", "Made by J Milton and B
Bronte". You can guess what kind of relationship the two of them
have. In 2013, we saw a former successful Robbery Bank named
“Jon Milton” sitting on a soft sofa, opposite a thin screen TV
reading the same book.