Queer Magic Western (Title TBD)

> Because the guns were from god and the guns were god. his presence was in each pistol and sidearm. his will laid out in each bullet and his ghost felt within the left behind shells. kids would trail behind the gunslingers. not directly of course, but they would follow their trail the next day. the kids would pick up empty shells. they’d make- they’d make rosaries out of them. string them onto leather cords and knot each one in place. none of these kids knew how to pray or even to what they were praying. but they believed we were holy, so they tried. damn it they tried. the children followed us just as carrion birds follow death. picking off our corpses and finding faithful sustenance in our shed corpses. If the gunslingers were death, then those children were the scavengers no doubt. i sometimes wonder how many of those kids were hopefuls. how many tried to join. i wonder how many made it to our walls. and then i think about how few of them would have made it past them.