Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me
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Eastern Oregon, 1877

The sun was just beginning to rise over Lewis Junction as an unusual coach came rolling into town, pulled by a pair of well cared for horses. This coach was unusual due to the various metal sheets that were affixed to the outside, resembling a large armored box. In the seat sat a man wearing a large duster and an aged military cap, and next to him, a younger man wearing a leather jacket and a Stetson. The older man went by the name Timothy, and the younger man Felix.

As they turned the strange coach down the main street, the residents of Lewis Junction stared and whispered among themselves, leery of this alien intrusion into their lives. Felix nudged the older man, gesturing towards the sheriff's office. Timothy responded with a nod and stopped the coach in front of the building. Both men disembarked, and the older man headed inside, while the younger man stayed near the side of the coach, scanning the street for trouble.

Timothy walked through the front door of the sheriff's office and examined its dim, dusty inside. The walls of the room were mostly bare, save for the odd framed picture here and there. Most of the room was taken up by an expensive looking desk, behind which sat a younger man who stared hard at him while smoking a pipe. He removed his cap and walked up to who he could only assume was the sheriff. The man looked him up and down, before leaning back in his chair.

"What can I do you for, stranger?" The man asked.

"Good morning son, are you the sheriff around here?" Timothy asked him.

"That I am, feller." The sheriff replied.

"Well, sheriff, I was wondering if you've seen any unusual crows about lately?"


Timothy rotated his hat in his hands. "You know, crows? Black birds, yea high, like to make mischief?"

"I know what crows are, stranger. Unusual in what way?"

"In the way of not acting like they're supposed to."

The sheriff scratched at his mustache. "Not that I can recall, any particular reason why?"

"Well you see, I run a ranch to the west, near Portland, and a few of our crows managed to get out."

"And you reckon they flew all the way out here, to Lewis Junction?"

The older man let out a small laugh. "Well, yeah!"

"Well, I reckon that's impossible." The sheriff rubbed the bridge of his nose. "And even if they did fly all the way over here, how would you know?"

Timothy's smile faded. "I'm sorry for wasting your time sheriff, I'll be heading off now."

The sheriff gave a look of surprise, but said nothing as the strange man put his hat back on and walked out the door. After the stranger had left, the sheriff took another draw from his pipe before grabbing a pencil and scribbling something on a piece of paper. He looked at the older man through the window for a moment and slipped out the back door.

Felix watched his father leave the sheriff's office, look back, shake his head, and walk back to the coach. Given the lack of a smile on Timothy's face, Felix could tell that his father hadn't managed to get anything out of the sheriff. Timothy walked past the younger man and pulled himself up onto the box. Felix shook his head and pulled himself up next to the older man.


Tim Wilson as Timothy, a Union soldier who fought in the New Mexico territory against the 8th Texas Cavalry, and then started a ranch near Portland after the end of the war.

Fae Wilson as Timothy's son, Felix, who helps him wrangle animals on his journeys across the wild west.

SCP-3466 as the snake oil selling crows.

SCP-610 as the fleshy appendages within the old church.

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