October Writing Prompt #1 : Burial
Charles let out a breathy exhale of the man’s name as he stared down at his deceased friend, the Pinkerton’s and anyone else really was long gone from vicinity. The sun was melting below the horizon, it had taken him all day to make sure the area was clear and get to this spot on the mountain edge.
Arthur was propped up and his eyes were closed, his skin pale and body absolutely still. Approaching the deceased, Charles knelt down and put a hand on Arthur’s chest, bowing his head and giving a moment of silence. He then looked to the setting sun once more before gently lifting Arthur into his arms. Charles carried him to his horse, already knowing the perfect place to bury his dear friend. Lifting himself up onto the saddle, he made sure Arthur was settled okay in his arms before setting off towards the nearest river.
There, he took the bloodiest of Arthur’s clothing and washed it to the best of his ability. He also grabbed a cloth from his satchel and washed away the blood and grime on Arthur’s face, hands and neck. He made sure the gunslinger looked at least a tiny bit like he did when he was alive. Now, it was time to head to the place he had in mind and dig a grave.
The Northern peaks of Ambarino and northeast of Bacchus Station was his idea. And soon enough, he found his spot, a spot where the sunrise would always greet Arthur. Charles laid the said man beside the grassy spot he had chosen, grabbed a shovel and lantern from his horse, lit the lantern’s candle and set it beside Arthur before beginning to dig. The midnight air was cool and the moon was especially bright as he continued to make the grave deeper and deeper. Soon enough, he was satisfied with the depth and he climbed out.
Charles returned to his horse and grabbed a blanket that was folded neatly in his horse’s satchel. It was a light blue color and it was soft to the touch, usually its purpose was if he ever slept away from the gang’s camp. But now, it was to cover Arthur a bit from the earth’s darkness. Charles spread it out over the grave hole and lifted Arthur into his arms, slowly descending the dead man into the grave- the blanket sliding down with him.
Charles wiped his brow and took a calming deep breath, gazing down at Arthur. A frown, the former gang member was a good man- one who didn’t deserve to live the life he did and die. He reached down and wrapped the edges of the blanket around Arthur. One last thing.
Reaching up towards his neck, he took off his necklace. One that meant everything to him; trust, loyalty, beauty and luck.. and he put it in Arthur’s hand, positioning his arms in a way on his stomach that made the corpse’ hands hold the precious item. If Charles could trust anyone with it, it would be Arthur. Returning to the dirty work, he buried Arthur Morgan, the only man he could say he loved.
Charles climbed back onto his horse, looking at the freshly dug grave. He would come back; with flowers and a marker, a headstone of sorts. He would make his grave beautiful, because his burial ground deserved that.
Arthur Morgan deserved that.
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