Golden Chark

The train had finally stopped after a hundred miles of sacred tracks in the edge of a bustling city.
"Get out faster, or I ain't gun'a make it out of the damn station alive" exclaimed a small woman.
"Don't hurry me woman", said the husband.
"Wot town we in?" asked another passenger.
Meanwhile, some kids were giggling pointing the outside.
"Mister Wilson, we're here, how long you gunna keep sleepin'!?", a child said excitedly to a sleeping man, waking him up with a tug on his sleeve.

Wilson's eyes got used to the brightness of the place, the sun shined harshly outside. He pushed along with the rest of the passengers with his case. A dry warm breeze blew on their faces as they left the train. Wilson waved goodbye to the child who he had talked with to pass the boredom of half the trip before fastening his pace. They were in the newest land of opportunity, and the latest to arrive. Through the station, they found themselves in the roaring city.

After leaving the station, Wilson began asking, "Where's Mr. Tu?".
The crowded road replied him with "Get offa the way darn it", "Lemme go!", and "I ain't helpin' two-time beggars.".
The city wasn't being kind that day, or maybe they hated immigrants, he didn't give much thought to it.

An old black man approached him from a Saloon in the corner and said, "We have 'round hundred Too's round the county. Them Chinese be in a town ten miles from here.".
"Where?", Wilson asked desperately.
"Don't go wayward, just take the train tomorrow. Could you spare a poor old soul some mon-"
Wilson flinged him a coin and walked away, after a while aimlessly.

Grabbing onto his wooden rosary for hope and courage, he walked through the town until he suddenly found himself at an Inn and was greeted by the sight of rats running around the floor while others were biting a sleeping drunk. He looked up and noticed the misstress with a bulldogs face. Her small dust-covered husband cleaning up behind the counter and walked quickly to push away a drunk customer from view.
"Room'll cost ya, a dime.", the woman said with a thick voice and an evil glee.
"Don't scare our clients Janice, it's a nickel.", said the husband with a sad smile.
Wilson pulled a small pouch with cents and payed quickly and was lead up the stairs by the small man to a dirty room. Gunshots, drunkard hollers, and yells of pain began when the town bell clock sounded at half past twelve. He peeked carefully and see a scene behind the curtain.

"Down!"
"He's at the left"
"Damn, reload this for me"
"Run there and keep firin' till we die"
"GIT, GIT, GIT!"
"Concubine man better pay!"
"Shaddup moron!

A scream was heard from the other side of the bandits as they ran through a corner and out of sight. A few moments later the laterns of some 'federales' lamps were lit from the other side as they gave up on the chase. Quiet moans resounded and Wilson saw the outline of a man on the ground.
"D-don't worry, you'll be patched and sewed by a doc, relax.", said a companion.
"T-TE!", the man man stuttered gave a cough and died.

Wilson's vision moved towards the corners of the window. Some bulletholes through the walls, just a few more inches from where his face was. He exhaled in shock and trembled to his bed to try to fall asleep for the next day.

He left the Inn as soon as the morning arived. Past the door, he saw a patch of moist reddish brown where one of the 'federales' had died. The clock chimed and he rushed into a train with a freshly bought ticket for a short trip to the Chinese town. He opened his small case and pulled out a neatly folded yellow letter with drop marks from his aunt.





Wilson folded the paper again with fear and hid it in his pocket. Some cacti and wild animals could be seen in the distance, the Chinese town that he was about to visit was growing closer. The promised golden paradise was parched and savage, seeming more like a hell through the window.

"We arrived!", hollered a mustached man through the train.

His mind was becoming blurred. He grabbed his case and walked off quickly before finding himself besides a crowd of Chinese men working, some backs with coal, others with scrapes, the ones mising limbs looking enviously at those who didn't while sitting down outside the buildings.

"Magdalena! Mr Tu! Magdalena! Mr. Tu! Magdalena! Mr. Tu!?"
He hollered out while walking. He sensed the quiet cold eyes following him from all directions. A few kids laughed at him as he walked to the very middle of the town for an hour. Two familiar Chinese men approached him while pointing at him.
"Wilson, lon' time no see eh? Her body is at my house, there, you better take the coffin quickly.", said Tu cooly.
Wilson noticed his indifference it and felt a burning rage. He smiled faintly and agreed. Tu nodded quickly and led him to his walled house. It was amazingly well luxioured with watered fresh-green gardens, wierd fish he had ever seen before, and the place full of kids in beautifully colored clothes and two young Asian women waving at Tu with grins. He knew immidiately they must be his other 'wives'.

"Where's the body?"
"It beside your room "
"I want to see her body-", pleaded Wilson.
"No, it disrespect the dead!", Tu said wide-eyed, "Also, that is your room.", while pointing at a small enclosure fit for dogs.
When he was about to ask where was the child, a babies cry rang, Magdalenas child surely. He went to the room quietly and the door closed behind him like a prisoners cell, complete with a man, rather, a teen in front to keep watch on him.

Wilson remembered his beloved cousin. Their games of hide and seek, every time he mocked her when she fell, when they fought on the floor to see who was strongest, and all the treats they shared together with wide smiles and bright eyes. He remembered how she once told him that when she was five and had him in her arms, how she had been so amazed that people are first small lumpy babies. His lips trembled, his eyes watered, and his heart felt like melting in longing to see her one last time.

When deep nightfall came, he opened the door. The boy opened his mouth to call out others, but a signal of silence with a finger on his lips and a handful of coins changed his mind. Wilson walked to the next room where his cousin was and closed the screen behind him. The coffin had old blood leaving a line on it's edges. He shined with the hope that she is alive and tried to claw her way out and ripped the board with a wild smile, but instead saw the horror of blade slashes throughout her pale grey body, a hole in her head, and a wide deep cut in her abdomen. He realized what happened immidiately, she had been murdered and the baby extracted. His thoughts focused on Magdalenas' baby. He knew she'd care more for her child than being buried to get to heaven, her body would remain there.

The boy entered the room behind Wilson. He realized what was going on and turned his face to scream, but no one heard him cry. A blade in his throat was tugged off as quickly as it enered and he was left drowning his lungs with his blood.

Wilson just killed a man, his first, but it didn't matter, nobody but his cousin had mattered in the world.
He ran to the next room and opened the screen where more than a baby was moaning, a single one being held in her nannies arms while being sung lullabies in a foreign language. She lifted her head to exclaim and found her end as quickly as the boy's. Wilson felt like laughing, he felt like he could climb the very air, like a god who administered death to those he pleased. Humans aren't prepared for killing their own species and keeping their minds intact.

Wilson checked desperately for differences between the children, and finally found Magdalena's from those of the other wives. It was the girl without Asian eyes and had her mothers face. He felt a huge weight off his heart for a second before switching to an inhuman fear of getting caught. He bundled the child in robes and opened the mighty wooden door in the entrance. Blisters on his feet made each step a small torture as he ran to the station. The babies cries through the town mixed along with the wails of drunkards and vulgar laughs of whores. A night train was leaving ahead soon after what felt an eternal five minutes of running. Wilson wiped off his visible hand in his coat to clean up the blood and used a bagful of coins to buy a place in the cargo train. The cashier knew something seemed wrong, but he didn't care since the money was good. The horn blew and the train ran forward. Wilson he saw the lights around Tu's house be on. Surely they already realized what happened and there would be a price on his head soon, complete with a mob ready to lynch him.

His heart at his throat, workers and cargo men all offboard, he went on to Salt Lake, Utah with a few stops for coal for the train and milk for the baby in between. Five telegraphs and a pair of days later, the small newborn child had barely survived and was being nurtured in her grandmothers thin arms.

As they moved through the states together, the dreams of Wilson changed from the memories of his childhood with Magdalena to seeing her mutilated face at Tu's home. Sometimes he would see the Chinese boy and nanny he killed, closing the doors to heaven right in his face while the seven trumpets, big and bright, weren't sounding like the Bible said, but rather drums in a slow rhythum while he was descending to a burning cave system he recognized as hell.

Every morning, he saw the childs innocent face after his sleep. In her half Chinese, half English race, he saw the face of Magdalena mixed in with the Asians he slaughtered. But every time she moved and raised her small arms to reach out anything, his heart told him an entire world was worth her little life.

Wilson had a crush for his cousin, who never understood his feelings, but then she married Mr. Tu for his richness. Tu was abusive, and he was also, if you noticed, "Comcubine man" the bandits called out, for which he had a harem, and so he was a crime boss.

Idea 1 was: Wilson is a criminal who fucks Mr. Tu's azn trophy wife for lulz.
Idea 2 was: Wilson is out to recover his cousins body and a good way to write about the West.
Idea 3 was: Idea 2 with the aunt requesting Wilson to steal the child.

I got the name "Magdalena", the wooden rosary and blisters on feet were from "Magdalena" by Brandon Flowers. The "fifteen miles of sacred road" he sings I used as "a hundred miles of sacred tracks". Oh and " 'federales' light" was part of the song which gave me the idea for the gunfight scene. From the song "Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas" (A Presley song), I decided to reference it with the hide and seek memories in Tennesee the song made as Wilsons.

Hope you found the tl;dr worth it. This was tiring. Oh, and could somebody give me a word count? I can't know because of Vita. God I'm falling asleep here, it's late. I'll try and fix whatever grammar errors I find tommorow.

For a few history fun bits, 25 thousand Chinese migrated to California for gold. Europeans also migrated straight to the gold rush hot spots a well. The Mexicans and other South Amricans who travelled enormous distances were way more common. Immigrants have shaped America and contributed so massively for almost a hundred an fifty years, and they're still being looked down upon (unless they're Hindus, America has a wierd love for people who weren't part of it, at all).