1888 Amenti

Damn my fingers, I never thought I’d write a journal like this. Not one for writing, me. Spent my life doing a bit of this and a bit of that, as they say. Never caught. Was always proud of that, nothing could ever get pinned on me. Now, here I am in the middle of the desert. Nothing but sand and wind. Going to die here, so might as well put down my life on paper. Some fool thing to do before the sun cooks me alive.

My name was Robert Chickering, though I never used it much. Always a different name, me. Took what I needed when I could from those who had too much, and kept what I had from those who wanted it. Traveled around a lot, from the Americas to Europe and even further east. Managed to always stay one step ahead of the law, got while the getting was good.