A full moon. Bats in the sky. A Carriage and two horses – 1 gray, 1 black. A driver with a whip.
I’m thinking stage coach. Traveling hell for leather. Who is chasing them? Man? Animal? Supernatural being?
In the carriage is evil – a villain – he has someone with him. The journalist? So, is the villain a railroad agent? Are they heading to or away from the train? Does the story have to do with migrant workers – the Chinese? The Irish? Is a man or a family or a town in jeopardy?
What we don’t see is the Dark-Moon Rider shadowing the coach. He scents the evil and his lover. Vengeance burns in his eyes. He has no choice, he is driven to pursue the conveyance. His target is in that coach and his lover is unaware of the danger. Sweet boy must be saved from himself and Rider can do no other than see to his protection. And destroy the evil within. This is his purpose.
The night is clear. The time of year is November. It’s a cold night.
The carriage comes to a halt, the Dark-Moon Rider sits in judgment upon the railroad agent. We learn why – what his guilt is. The journalist tries to stop the vengeance, but Dark-Moon Rider will see it done. It’s his job and he sees to it swiftly.
The journalist’s life is in jeopardy as the agent puts a gun to his head trying to save his own worthless life. It doesn’t stop Dark-Moon Rider and justice is meted out, the journalist saved.
The man is buried in loose earth. Snakes slither toward the grave and descend beneath the earth. The driver’s mind is wiped clean and he’s sent on his way. Justice will come for him in its own time. The money in the coach will be delivered to the orphans and widows.
Back at the journalist’s rooms above the newspaper, it is almost dawn, but he and the Dark-Moon Rider speak of what has occurred.
In the old west good and bad are not so sharply discernible. In war it’s even harder. The journalist is conscience-stricken. Murder does not rest easily upon his mind.
But dawn is closing in and soon his Dark-Moon Rider must leave. They make love. And then he’s gone. Leaving the journalist sated, but with questions.
The next day the journalist hears word of the disappearance of the railroad agent. And that the driver with no memory has been taken into custody. He has a black reputation. But still, the journalist feels some guilt. [He feels the guilt because the Black-Moon Rider can’t.]
[Note: the journalist is Black-Moon Rider’s conscience – his own remorse spills into the journalist, for he himself cannot feel. His desire for the journalist in a physical way is an anomaly. The sex with him is a form of purging his guilt, a cleansing ritual that must be maintained. The journalist keeps him rooted and anchored. But the journalist doesn’t realize this.]
He writes his story, the lamp burns brightly. He senses a familiar dark presence. He says simply. “Come in.”
The Dark-Moon Rider comes in.
“What vengeance tonight, Rider? What blood will you let in the name of justice?”
The journalist turns and meets the dark hungry gaze – like a wolf – of the Rider. He can’t deny him. He feels the undeniable, desperate need. The journalist blows out the lamp. The moon shines in through the window, but Rider is a ghostly presence, a shadow without definition as he moves toward the journalist and they merge as one.
Any other consideration is soon lost as the journalist entwines himself into his Dark lover’s embrace.
Outside, the owl screams. Soars downward, snatches up a mouse, soon to become his dinner. Even as the Dark Rider picks up the journalist and carries him up the stairs.