Outta Dodge

“We moved out West for the air”… More violent delights, courtesy of Everett Ambrose, a horror writer, and Andrea Ledford, master of miniature horrorscapes.

Poem by Everett Ambrose
Diorama by Andrea Ledford

From the journal of Evelyn Ambrose, discovered posthumously, 1886

We moved out West for the air

Doctors said it would be better

For his tuberculosis 

Which wasn’t choking him fast enough

We’d picked Dodge City together

San Francisco was too far away

But there would have been doctors in San Francisco

So Dodge City was perfect for us

Afterwards, our room looked like murder

It would be the last time he was violent with me

White arsenic mixed in his laudanum

This time he had reason to rage

Dodge City doesn’t suspect a widow

He was buried amongst thieves and outlaws

With a crooked cross twined together

Jutting from his dusty dry grave on the plains

A quarter for scale

About The Author

Everett Ambrose is a speculative fiction writer as well as an existential dread life coach. He resided the Midwest with people he pays to be his family. All complaints should be directed to his Instagram @ev.ambrose.writes

About The Artist

Andrea Ledford is a mixed media artist, musician and costume designer, currently specializing in carefully handcrafted, vintage style, 3d miniature horror scenes

One response to “Outta Dodge”

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