Lucky Patch's Questionnaire

Lucky Patch lives a few miles outside of Bisbee, Arizona, in a quiet spot where the desert stretches wide and the sky feels close. He’s always lived there—never saw a reason to leave. The town is small and strange, full of old stories and folks who mind their business, which suits him just fine. It's the kind of place where trouble passes through, and that's what he keeps an eye on.

His home is an old ranch house with peeling paint and a porch that creaks in the wind. It’s a cozy place, filled with handmade quilts, patched-up furniture, and little good luck charms tucked into corners. It’s simple, warm, and full of memories.

Lucky Patch makes his money by traveling from town to town across Arizona and beyond, taking odd jobs wherever he can find them. Ranch hands hire him to mend fences or help with livestock. Small towns bring him in when something strange is happening—bad luck that won’t leave, crops that keep failing, or things going missing in the night. Folks don’t always know what he is, but they know he gets results, and they pay him in cash, supplies, or a hot meal.

He spends most of his money on gas, food, and keeping his gear in working shape. The rest goes to little things that bring comfort—fabric for sewing, good boots, and small charms to keep the worst of the bad luck off his back.

Lucky Patch’s ambition is rooted in loss. His mom got sick—real bad—and no doctor could say why. Maybe it was cancer, maybe it was something worse, something that clung to her like a curse. Either way, it took her slow, and no matter what he tried, he couldn’t stop it. That stuck with him. Now, he’s made it his mission to hunt down the kind of misfortune that ruins good people for no good reason.

He wants to stop others from going through what he did. He’s not in it for money or praise—just to make sure no more lives get swallowed by something unseen. He’ll risk his life without hesitation. He’s walked into places no sane man would. And if stopping a curse means hurting someone who spreads it? Then yeah—he’d kill for it.

The most defining event of Lucky Patch’s life was watching his mom waste away from something no one could name. One day she was tending the garden, humming to herself, and the next she was too weak to stand. Doctors said cancer, but nothing they tried worked. She kept getting worse, and strange things started happening around the house—mirrors cracking, animals acting nervous, clocks stopping. It wasn’t natural. Lucky could feel it.

He tried everything—home remedies, old folk cures, even stitched together charms and protection spells from dusty books. Nothing worked. She died anyway.

That loss changed him. It showed him that some misfortune isn’t just bad luck

Mabel Patch – His mother and the person he was closest to.
Mabel was a tough, warm-hearted woman who raised Lucky on their remote ranch. She had a gentle way with animals and a sharp wit, always sewing things up—clothes, wounds, even hearts. She believed in signs and old superstitions, which Lucky once found silly, but now clings to like gospel. Her slow, mysterious illness and passing is what set him on his path. He still talks to her sometimes, like she’s riding shotgun. Perhaps he was a witch?

Noodle – His pet snake and closest living companion.
Noodle is a small, friendly albino corn snake with a soft pink-and-cream pattern. Lucky found her curled in his mom’s garden the day after she passed, and he took it in. She’s been with him ever since. Noodle rides in his coat, sometimes pokes her head out of his hat brim, and always knows when something’s wrong. She’s calm, curious, and strangely comforting—his little reminder that not everything in the world is cruel.

Miss Alondra – An elderly curandera in New Mexico.
She’s a folk healer who saw something in Lucky, She’s taught him a few things about curses, spirits, and protection. He visits her when he needs help understanding what he’s up against. She's stern but kind, and the only one who ever scolded him for not eating enough.

Lucky Patch's childhood was mostly spent in isolation, tucked away in a quiet corner of the desert. He was raised by his mother, Mabel Patch, after his father, Collie Patch—a professional rodeo rider—died in a tragic accident just before Lucky was born. Folks said the Patch family tend to attract bad luck.

Because of that reputation, Mabel chose to keep their distance from others. She homeschooled Lucky, filling their days with old stories, family wisdom, and needlework—sewing protective charms into his clothes to keep the misfortune at away. Though she was kind and deeply protective, there was always a quiet fear in her eyes, like she was waiting for the next bad thing to come knocking.

Every so often, Lucky and his mother would venture into the nearest suburban town, and he always looked forward to it. But even then, he kept his distance from the other kids. He was awkward and prone to strange accidents—scrapes, falls, odd missteps that made others uneasy. It wasn’t bullying that kept him apart. It was that sense that, somehow, the world didn’t quite know what to make of him. And he didn’t quite know how to belong in it.

Lucky’s only real experience with love was with a man named Dr. Simon Marrow—the kind of person you wouldn’t expect to be stranded in a quiet suburban town. He wasn’t local; he’d only moved there temporarily to care for his aging grandfather. Simon was always clean-cut and well-kept, with sharp, observant eyes that could feel intimidating at first. But when he worked, those same eyes would soften—a quiet sign of how deeply he cared about what he did.

He was assigned to a small clinic near the edge of nowhere, and that’s where Lucky met him. From the first visit, something clicked. The care Simon gave felt different—more thoughtful, more precise. Lucky couldn’t help but get flustered around him.

Lucky often found himself at the clinic, usually banged up from clumsy mishaps—spooked horses, falling down stairs, or getting too close to a fire. While Simon patched him up, Lucky would sit patiently, asking how Simon was doing or whether he’d eaten that day. At first, Simon was cautious, even a little suspicious of Lucky’s strange aura and accidents. But over time, he came to appreciate the cowboy’s quiet kindness. In a way, they became something like friends—comfortable, familiar, and safe.

When Simon’s grandfather passed, he moved back to the big city. Lucky never confessed his feelings. He was afraid that doing so might burden Simon—drag him down into the trail of misfortune that seemed to follow Lucky everywhere he went.