[Trigger Warning: Dark Gothic Weird Western Horror Story filled with dark themes and subjects.]
#1 in WEIRD WEST
#1 in Weird Western
#10 in Clowns
In the godless silence of the high desert, where the sun bleaches bones and the wind whispers only of oblivion, a cursed caravan rolls. It is a blight upon the landscape, a traveling sermon of flesh and nightmare preached by a man known only as the Cynical Sigma. More a phantom than a man, Sigma is a sculptor of the grotesque, a collector of suffering whose living exhibits are the proof of his blasphemous art. His troupe of "freaks" is a collection of walking tragedies-a half-man, half-dog that cries for a master's mercy, a bloodless woman who seeks what cannot be found inside herself, a clown whose smile is a rictus of despair. They are the main attraction in a show that offers no delight, only a glimpse into a darkness that festers at the edges of the civilized world.
But no grave is safe from Sigma's hunger. His true commerce is not in ticket sales, but in the raw material he harvests from freshly turned earth. He is a thief of the dead, and the towns he leaves behind are haunted not by ghosts, but by empty plots and a lingering sense of violation. The caravan moves on, a plague leaving only dust and desecration in its wake.
Yet, even in the West's vast indifference, a shadow stirs. Gerald Myles, a retired sheriff whose own history is a tapestry of loss woven by Sigma's hand, has picked up the trail. He is an old bloodhound, a man whose soul has been worn down to a single, sharp purpose: vengeance. His quest is not merely to bring a criminal to justice, but to expose a rot that goes far beyond mere murder. He knows that the monsters in the cages are not the true horror; they are merely the symptoms. The disease is the Cynical Sigma himself.
Luciano D' Angelo.
That was it. No birth date, no written farewells, no beloved mentioning.
All that was present was a fancy old fashioned name with a deceased date right beneath it.
C. 1940
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Grace Gabriel.
A young girl with a dull vision on the world. Her perspective on life is limited.
She follows a precise routine everyday. In which she visits the towns cemetery daily, a particular grave stone that appealed to her many months ago. The town low populated and very old.
She took it upon herself to take care of the grave and not allow it to return to its previous state.
Thanks to her found routine, Grace also has someone to talk to. Even if the grave is dated over seventy years ago and the man is dead.
So imagine her disappointment when the deaths in town increase and her favored grave is to be dug up and disposed of.
Now imagine finding out the next day that this particular grave was later found empty along with the cemetery keepers dead, and blood drained body?
On another not, just because someone is dead, doesn't always mean that they can't hear right?