+ THE WHITE SAVAGE SCALPERS +
I was there on that brutal battlefield long ago......
I heard the roaring of infantry fire as i passed through the stampeding volley of shots. A grim display delivering of Hades an angel frothing at the mouth. His hollering white wild arsenal of death. Charging and swooping swift, so finely attached to every move that the rider and horse were surely born as one. Dragoon half-bandits raising up the finest dust from the thickest laid-over field grass a soldier could bed upon forever. The sixgun swift yet brute was proven deadly to regimental crypts; such an under estimation of derelict superiority.
Myself, wandering in the field ablaze, staring so bewildered yet struck with flashing moments in awe as i witness the total destruction of time by the sharpest of demons burning his coal. I dragged along where every shot that
rang-out was a soldier falling at me, and all around me. I soon fell too upon the dusty bed of bloody grass. Laying there shot through, i then said out loud and with no care if i could be heard, "who are you?''. A few more shots and a couple more gnashes until a voice in front of me yelled through the black powder and whipping wind, "i'm here to cut you down!"
Centralia 1864. They drank whiskey from dead mans boots.
======This is prose i wrote inspired by old accounts of William T Anderson, the sentiment more so so based off the infamy relayed by the union side of things, though based on other aspects/stories/accounts of Anderson and the Bushwhackers..... thrown in with my own creation. He was surely an enigma of a historical figure. This region of the civil war is like something from another world. The civil war in general and all that it was holds some strange secrets i just cant seem to place.....especially in the region of Missouri/Kansas
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