Editing Queen of Diamonds: 'The Sorrow'

I'll tell ya why I'm always lookin' sad. Lemme tell you story bout a pair of twins that lived durin' the great gold rush kid. 

When I was a little tyke growin' with my twin brother, he be always protectin' me from all the other kids when we played at the 'lil school house. Couldn't tell us apart if we dressed them same too till we got older.

By the time we was sixteen, he was still protectin' me with a six shooter he claimed was a “Card”. Now my grand pappy always told me 'bout those “Card”. I never believed 'em. Thought they were always a bunch a baloney. My brother showed it to me, look like a regular six shooter 'cept it had Q and a Diamond engraved. Nothin' special bout it. E'vry one in town was afraid since of him since. No body woulda ever messed with me either.

Till one day, he picked a fight with the wrong gang. All started when one of 'em made a pass at me. Each time I said no, one of em just blurted out that they wanted me to be their little whore to pass around. My brother, havin' none of that shit no more aimed his piece at the one touchin' me. My brother, God bless his soul, shoulda just taken me outta there. Idiot told em he was gonna fight em, no one was gonna get away with touchin' his lil twin sister.

Out side the saloon, it was just one on one. They was gonna do quick draw. It was so fast once they got to ten. He went down just as fast. His gun misfired and my big brother laid there dyin'. I ran to him cryin' my eyes out while the big bastard and his gang was laughin'.

“Idiot, why'd you have to go off and do somethin' like that! Why couldn't you a just taken me outta there! Why!”

Holdin his chest, he just kept sayin' “But it's a card! Cards don't lose to regular guns!”

I took the piece from his hand without thinkin' and just aimed it at the bastard who shot 'im. He just shouted at me that his piece was also a Card.

“Get outta town and never come back, or else.” I shouted, they just kept laughin and sayin that now they got a lil new girly to play with. My brother just laid on the ground, still bleedin'. I pulled the trigger, firing all six shots wildly, hopin just to hit one of em. When I opened my eyes, all twelve of em were dead.

“Minnie...” my brother called, “Ya did it. Seems like ol' grand dad was right, only a gal could use it.”

He died later that night, I stayed with him the whole time while ma was cryin her eyes out and pa was already making arrangements to bury him. We buried him a few days later. Week later grand dad came back from down south and we told him. He asked what happened to my brother's Card. I told him I had it now. He was relieved that I had it now. He told me the story bout this particular piece. Said it was fueled by a woman's sadness. Like in em Greek legends bout Pandora, who cried tears of black tar after openin' the box. Kinda ironic ain't it? Minerva is the goddess of war, but here I am cryin' again. 

And that's why I'm always sad. So scuse me while I wipe these tears away.

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