[RedM]: Outlaw's Lament - 1
Never Quite Free
Today, something a little different— if not that far from what a lot of the content on Author’s Notes has been these days. Within the past year as many of you know, I’ve been writing a lot about Filly’s story. With the Dakota River Bend server closing, I ended her story with the Bad Omens and haven’t said much about it since.
However, I have in fact continued to play her. I moved to a new server called Ranch RP, where Filly has been doing her best to adjust to a civilian life. In that effort, she’s taken up a bit of writing to make sense of everything she went through back in the Dakotas.
This has spawned a series of poetry books within the game that for whatever reason I’ve hesitated to publish to Substack, but I see no honest reason not to. What follows is the first poem from the first book, Outlaw’s Lament.
The next few weeks will go through all of the poetry from these books, so stay tuned.
Let us begin:
Light-footed little lockpicker, A skill I’d first honed under threat and false promises. I had been small once, Young and stupid. Shook hands with the devil Not knowing what that included. I was put into debt, Sworn to secrecy. “Do as we do,” they said, "And one day you will be free.” So I cut my teeth on every door in the Dakotas Shifting weight on the pins— but not too quick. Learning torque and pressure The satisfaction of the final spin— and click. I was never suited for that life And everyone around me could tell. Law treated me like a nuisance Well meaning, but under the gang’s spell. "—Did you take anything, kid?” Lawmen would ask when they caught me. I hadn’t, and told them so “I just needed to practice sir–” Puzzle, solve, spin, click— And go. I didn’t want to hurt anyone And told the lawmen as much. "What if a wild animal had gotten in,” they countered. "And ate the poor owner up for lunch?” It was a silly line of questioning, Spoken through a charmed grin. But the next time I went, I tied the doors shut To keep the animals from coming in. I could be the best person I could manage. I could minimize the damage my actions caused, But I couldn't stop. In the devil’s hands I was just a prop. "Do as we do," the others told me And I was desperate to believe Despite all evidence to the contrary. “Do as we do,” they said, “And one day you’ll be free.” Once I got enough practice in their lifestyle They’d take me to a bank, let me do the dials The money inside— that was my ticket ”Do as we do,” they said, and I did it. After a while, it wasn’t just about practice Even though it bothered me How invasive the act is. When the days grew long I’d still find myself drawn back to it. Puzzle, solve, spin, and click. The only puzzle with an answer I could get The only problem I knew I had the skill to fix But one day a man shot the devil. And we buried her behind the house. I dug the hole with my two hands Quieter than a mouse. In that moment my life had changed And I was granted back my own volition But after running away and returning again I still found myself before another door Armed with a pick and a mission. I was never suited for that life As hard as I tried, they still could tell. I was treated as a tragedy, Hopelessly choosing her own Hell. Puzzle, solve, spin, and click. But this time I would linger. Would walk inside A pick still between my thumb and forefinger. Quietly, I would admire their lives As an unwelcome fly on the wall Run my eyes over photographs Taken in winter, spring, summer, and fall Even in the good times I so often felt like an beast Hunted and made to bleed In a world that had no room For my newfound family, or me. "What if a wild animal got in,” they asked But the wretched thing was just me Light-footed, pitiful, angry, and small A creature with little teeth and little claws Pawing at pictures and art, Hung so joyfully on the walls. Children’s toys and soft beds, Each house so full of sentiments— Gentle places to rest their weary heads And dream of futures, pasts, and peaceful presents. “Do as we do,” they said. But even after they were dead, I was never quite free. In the houses of strangers I’d stand And yearn for a life different Than the one I chose and led. Until the thundering of hooves Drove me from the home, And into the brush again.