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Midnight Rider <(need A Title, Sorry Allman Bros)

Riding into town on a dusty two-lane highway, the cold steel of a .38 special on my hip. The monster underneath me growls its benevolent hatred toward me and the man whose life was just extinguished.

A multitude of grainy lights appear on the horizon, the harbor of downtrodden villians calls me home.

The purr of the engine pulsing below my core joins in with the chorus of Fallen Angels lamenting the innocence lost tonight.

A damp, dark alleyway crunches under the wheels of my steel horse as it grinds to a halt. With an oft-practiced motion, I kick the stand out and allow my partner to rest.

My hand raps against a thick door a few times in rapid succession. This is answered quickly by the sound of heavy tumblers falling into place. Although no one is present, the door slides open and I step inside.

I am unable to catch a glimpse of my unlit surroundings before the door shuts behind me and seemingly locks itself.

"I did as you said." I yell into the darkness, "We agreed on here, now, ten thousand for the job." No answer. I take my lighter from my pocket and flip it on. I see, about five feet in front of me, a table. On it is a manila envelope. I reach forward and switch the envelope for the .38 I'd received earlier. I turn around and put my lighter back in my pocket. The door opens, and I walk out to my chopper's resting place.

I get on and start her up, feeling slightly hazy from the nights events, and having been paid so much. As I flip on the light, it falls on a tall figure that had doubtless not been there before.

He was at least six and a half feet tall, an imposing man, to say the least. His shoulders were broad and his long coat was full, but he was not a fat man. He was dressed completely in black, and the light shining where his face should've been yielded nothing but void. At first I thought it was my imagination on account of the man's stature, but I saw now that there were tendrils of the most unnatural black fog exuding from the ground below him, as if to envelop him in their cold, bitter embrace. The right hand of the man, which had previously rested at his side in a tight fist, raised slowly up and pointed at me. "You want the money?" I asked feebly, extending my earning, still in the envelop, to him. The finger extended upward and slowly moved back and forth in the universal gesture for *no*. I brought the envelop back closer to my body and, realizing the inadequacy of its weight, proceeded to open it.

A slip of yellowed paper is all I find. I remove it carefully from the envelope. It has writing on it. An illegible, inhuman scrawl of strange characters in a continuous stream. I don't have to ask or even read to tell what it means. As soon as I understand, the fog jumps up and dissipates. I look around for the man, but he's nowhere to be seen. As if through some kind of hellish telepathy, I know what I need to do next.

Wending my way out of a twilit southern California city through crowded four lane roads, the fresh bite of a new curse bleeds into my mind.

Midnight Rider <(need A Title, Sorry Allman Bros)

I think midnight rider <(need a title, sorry allman bros) should be elaborated speedily maybe that carefully so I can decide for myself.