Crime in the Old West, while present, is often exaggerated. Homicide rates were higher than today but localized, and property crime was a major concern. Early law enforcement faced significant challenges. Some studies suggest that homicide rates in Eastern cities were comparable. Considering the vastness and sparse population, modern megalopolises may experience more frequent crime overall, though the nature differs. The romanticized image of constant gunfights is largely inaccurate.

But history hides what it cannot explain...
The Outlaw thought he was escaping a noose, but he was riding straight into a cosmic debt. When he stepped onto the Midnight Train, he crossed the threshold of the Necromancer’s domain.
As the train thundered through the sacred burial grounds, the ancient magic of the Wild West Necromancer, triggered by the presence of a living sinner. The spell was meant to raise the fallen, but the Outlaw was still breathing. The ritual didn't wait for his heart to stop. In a grueling, agonizing transformation, his flesh burned away like parchment in a forge, leaving only sun-bleached bone and a soul fueled by vengeful lightning.

He emerged not as a mindless servant, but as the Skeletal Gunslinger.
But this, is another story.

💀🤠💀

I rode out from that dust town, the law was on my trail,
Took a stallion from a rancher, left behind a bloody tale.
Through the sage and sunlit canyons, where the desert winds would wail,
I found a place to lay my head, near an old forgotten trail.

Camped beside a graveyard, where the spirits whisper low,
Dreams of hollow voices, warning me where not to go.
A shadow danced before me, cloaked beneath the moonlight’s glow,
Said, "Boy, don’t board that midnight train, or death is all you’ll know."

The wheels howl like a banshee’s cry, the lanterns burn so cold,
A ghostly ride through the valley wide, where the lost souls roam untold.
No ticket back, no saving grace, just the reaper’s iron chain,
I stole from life, now death rides mine, on the midnight ghost train.

I laughed off all those warnings, fate don’t scare a man like me,
With my six-gun loaded steady, I’d take what I pleased.
That train came rolling, black as night, like thunder on the plains,
I climbed aboard, but all I found were echoes in the rain.

The passengers were silent, ‘til the lightning split the sky,
Their hollow eyes all turned to me, as the wind let out a cry.
The driver grinned, his face was bone, his fingers wrapped in rust,
He tipped his hat and told me, "Boy, you ride with us."

The wheels howl like a banshee’s cry, the lanterns burn so cold,
A ghostly ride through the valley wide, where the lost souls roam untold.
No ticket back, no saving grace, just the reaper’s iron chain,
I stole from life, now death rides mine, on the midnight ghost train.

The train sped up, my body froze, I tried to turn around,
The desert faded into mist, I heard that mournful sound.
The graves I passed now called my name, the echoes filled the sky,
I finally knew what fate had done, a thief still has to die.

The wheels howl like a banshee’s cry, the lanterns burn so cold,
A ghostly ride through the valley wide, where the lost souls roam untold.
No ticket back, no saving grace, just the reaper’s iron chain,
I stole from life, now death rides mine, on the midnight ghost train.

Now I ride through time eternal, cursed to roam these tracks,
The outlaw who outran the law, but never made it back.