When she thought she could stand it no more, the sound of the thundering hooves racing toward her, outracing the sound of her own heart beat, she looked up to see the threat coming, to face her fear. Then there was nothing, no sound, no movement, no wind. As she rose she shook her head, was this a dream? But the stillness of the cold black dessert air told her it wasn't. As her mind reeled, her body started to shiver, not so much from the cold but more from the events that had taken place.
"What the hell have you gotten yourself into?" she muttered to herself "That's what I was a thinkin'!" a voice said behind her. She jumped as she turned, only to meet the steely gaze of the sheriff, astride a mare that was as black as the dessert night. "Girlie, ya don't know what you got yo' self into, but seein' ya come as far as ya did, well... mebee I kin use ya." As the sheriff extended a black gloved hand she didn't know why but she was afraid now more then ever. With his help, she climbed up behind him on his horse. They rode into the still night air. Soon they entered into the still deserted town. Her skin crawled with the feeling of being watched. "Sheriff why are there no people around?" she asked. "I demand to know what this all about!" she exclaimed as the sheriff slid her off his horse and dismounted. Slowly the sheriff turned and met her eye to eye. "Now look here! You're in no position ta argue! And the less you know the better! Ah don't want no trouble from the likes o' you. Ya look a mite ornery ta me. And if ya know what's good for ya you'll shut up an' lissen!" With that the sherrif told her to follow him and this time she did as she was told. They walked with what seemed liked (as he would say) a good stretch of the legs. Before she knew it they were at the old cemetery. "What are we doing here?" she asked, suddenly very afraid. "Well girlie, I'm gonna tell you a story an' tha only way you kin unerstand it is to see fer yourself," the sheriff said. "But first let's get a fire goin' coz it's a mite cool."
As the fire started, the woman waited to hear the story that would bring an end to this nightmare. She couldn't help think of what brought her to this strange place. How all she had wanted was a nice piece of land to build a home; then he showed up. That rascal that stole her money. And nearly stole her heart. But that's another story...
The fire was now a roaring blaze. The sheriff, satisfied with his work, came and sat next to her. He was quiet a moment, staring into the dancing flames. Then he started to speak. "Near `bout 40 years past tha railroad was a commin thru here, and a man named Willhiem Gates came thru ta see if there was anyway to profit from this bit o' news. There were a few homesteaders and a few prospectors and our little town. But other than that, nothin much else. So him being a greedy so in so, he tried to buy up all the land in the area. Most folks did sell and the railroad started to build. But then an old injun came to see me thinkin I was the cause of this. I explained to this ol' injun that he's got to talk to Willhiem Gates cause he's the man in charge o' the buildin'. Waal, this injun tried ta talk to him ta make him unnerstand that what he was doin was sacrilege and he was buildin right on top of an old indian burial ground. That disturbing the ancestors cannot be done, and great harm would come to all who helped disturb their final resting place. Now this ol' injun was a man of peace but when this Gates fella refused to lissen he got riled. So Gates up `n shoots im, and bury's him right under the tracks. That night Gates has a dream of that ol injun. How since he has bothered the ancestral burial ground the ancestors will seek their revenge and since this land means so much to the white man whoever is on this land will stay on this land, never to leave until they are avenged. And how Gates, since he lived for silver he must die by silver, would forever roam the land, never to know peace. Waal, the next mornin Gates was runnin like a dad burn fool mutterin to hisself and confessin to it all. When I got wind of this I rode up to his place to see what all the fuss was about, but he wasn't there. Jus his wife, an old hag named Mary, and she was worried sick sayin how she aint seen 'im and if'n I could find em. Waal, I got me a posse and we searched for weeks. We searched but we jus couldn' find him. Then a few o' my men tells me they sees some hideous beast in the foothills and the legend of the banshee got started."
"Sheriff," the woman broke into his recital. "This is all well and good, but what does that have to do with me?" "Well let's jus say there are somethings that we can't do for ourselves. By the way, here are your guns. Ya dropped them when I found you." She opened her mouth to ask more questions but suddenly the fire started acting strangely and a wind had kicked up. There was a chill in the air; the kind of cold that seeps into your bones and you feel that you'll never know warmth again. As she looked, the sheriff rose and motioned for her. "Ya'll better get behind me and do like I say," he said. "No more questions now." This time she knew better than to ask why, and quickly stood where she was told. All of a sudden an ungodly scream/howl pierced the night. The fire glowed with such intensity as to burn itself out in a second. The wind started twirling like a hurricane and with such force she was suprised to be still standing. There was a noise as if made by all that is unholy, a screech that seemed to come from the bowels of Hell itself. Then the woman was pushed out of the way and felt herself falling on the cold hard ground. Through the smoke she could see the sheriff fighting, struggling with a man... No! It was the beast! The horrible thing she had met earlier. As she tried to make sense of what was happening she heard the sheriff yelling, screaming, commanding. "Shoot it! Shoot it right between the eyes! Put it out of it's misery!" The gunslinger raised her guns, noticing that they were somehow different. As she tried to see through the smoke and haze, she could barely see the sheriff and the creature; two shadows doing an odd dance among the smoke and fire. Then she fired, the recoil of her guns throwing her to the ground; never had they done that before. She slipped into unconsciousness.
Elsewhere, in the dank recesses of a cave high up in the bluffs overlooking the town, the light of the All-Knowing Eye hurt the old woman's eyes. She had been watching the story unfold before her, watching it play on the Eye; the drama of lives caught in a whirlpool of frightening events had held her transfixed. The woman sometimes left her post to eat or drink, or just simply to blink away the strain that staring at the Eye all day long created upon her own vision. She had been sitting for many hours now, waiting for the story to further uncoil from the twists and turns in its now convulated plot, hoping the beautiful gunslinger would be able to take care of the banshee on her own. Hoping against hope that she wouldn't have to come out of retirement, and make The Spell. The Spell; it was the only thing she knew to be effective in instances like these. She was certain she knew what mystery had befallen the mayor/sheriff, Taqula, of the ghost town and what form of payment the fetid, vile witch would claim. She knew because the witch, Scary Mary, was her evil twin. She had done this before... many years ago, in the days when they worked together. She knew that if Scary Mary had her way, the gunslinger would be too drugged to kill the banshee, that she would be too slow to avenge the deaths of her family by the Dark Evil that had taken over the town. It was all her sister's fault. She just knew it. But she had to have proof. So she watched....and waited. How had the gunslinger fared in the haunted woods with the handsome yet sinister man? Would his minions hidden in the trees finally reveal their true form, mortal or inhuman? The woman patiently watched the Eye. Know
Yes, she watched; watched and waited. But she didn't have to wait long.
The sun rose the next morning to find the gunslinger bound, gagged & tied half naked to a tree standing alone in the clearing. The cold eyed captain of the guard, the man she had met in the woods, laid his bull whip again and again across the bare flesh of the gunslinger's once lilly white skin. Blood trickled down the small of her back and the cleavage of her once beautiful breasts, and soaked into her buckskin leggins. "This is just for fun" the man said, "to give a little flavor for the banshee to enjoy." A deer suddenly sprang out of the woods in fright; the noise from the heavy scuffling footsteps of the approaching witch piercing the thicket. "Enough of this!" the old witch said. "the banshee awaits the feeding. Leave her, we must hurry."
As the old woman in the cave watched these events unfold, she had the proof she needed. She knew that the only hope for the town and the gunslinger was to do what must be done. She slowly began to pull a cauldron and bottles and jars from the cupboards and shelves. She banked the fire in the hearth as high as it could safely go, and sat the cauldron above it. "Lord, forgive me" she said as if in a prayer, and began dropping bits of this and that into the now bubbling ooze.
She took one more look into the All-Knowing Eye. Time was indeed short. If she didn't hurry all would be lost. She saw her evil sister preparing to unlock the chains that held the banshee. In the battle between the sheriff and the banshee, the sheriff had unfortunately lost. The gunslinger's silver bullets had grazed the banshee and it had fallen from the injury, the magic from the bullets seeping into its wounds strong enough to make it sleep, but not enough to kill it. The gunslinger needed to make a direct hit, but could not aim straight and true. The potion she had drank had taken its effect; that, and her reduced vision through the smokey haze. Quickly now, the old woman thought; she must keep her head and not think about the once happy childhood she had shared with her twin; the old witch was no longer that same person. She took the tiny doll down from the highest shelf, in the darkest corner, where it had sat for nearly 50 years. She dropped it into the cauldron full of boiling liquid. It soaked up the potion quickly, and she fished it back out with a forked stick. She then lay the tiny doll on the table. Bound it with her own hair, and lit it on fire. It burned with a fury one wouldn't think possible of such a tiny object. Then she heard it. The most horrendous cry went up to the heavens. She stared into the Eye and saw her sister running, engulfed in flames. The banshee exploding into millions of firey fragments like a volcanic eruption. The sparks flew into the air and fell to earth, igniting the brush near a stand of buildings in the town. Hungrily the flames grew and licked at the dry timber of the buildings. It spread quickly and turned its attention to the haunted copse of woods. With satisfaction, the old woman watched the scenery held within the Eye turn into a raging inferno.
It was done, all would be well now. She took her carpet bag from under her bed and packed what few important belongings she had and hobbled down the rocky path to the clearing. The once beautiful gunslinger hung limply in her bonds, unconcious from her ordeal. The old woman unbound the ropes and eased her to the ground, gently wiping the caked blood from her wounds and the grime from her face. The younger of the two women stirred with the gentle ministerings. She opened her eyes, confusion visible in their green depths."It is done my child," the old woman whispered. "the banshee is dead. The evil captain of the guards is dead, along with his vile creatures. And my evil twin sister, the witch, is dead. And you, you are my granddaughter, child. I have waited all these years for your return. I had waited, hoping that you could fight the evil of this place for me. But I should have known the evil would be too strong. I shouldn't have expected you to be able to defeat them without my help. But it is done now child. Come, let us go".
It was bright and sunny as the mini-bus with the Halloween conventioneers pulled up to the gas station. At the back of the bus, a young woman suddenly awoke. Her blouse was damp with sweat and her heart pounded wildly in her chest. The raven-haired beauty shook her head as if to loosen the cobwebs entangled in her mind. Thank goodness it was only a dream, she thought. She got up and walked to the front of the bus. From there she heard the gas attendant talking to the director of this impromptu tour. "Where ya'll goin'?" the attendant asked. "We don't get many strangers round these parts." "We were thinking of going to a ghost town called Taqula," the director replied. "Taqula!" the attendant exclaimed. "Why, there tain't nutthin' ta see there. It was an old ghost town but it burnt ta the ground some odd years ago. Then..." here the man looked around, searching the horizon, as if his telling might be overheard, "then the whole ground opened up an' swallowed the town, burnt buildings and all! Tain't nothin' left but some old boards and junk."
Within the bus, the conventioneers looked at each other. The director turned to look at them, wondering if they had the same thoughts tumbling in their head as he did. He faced around again, his mouth open to ask a question of the attendant, and found himself standing alone by the pump; no sight of the attendant to be seen, the building itself boarded shut. Inside the bus, the young woman dropped into a seat at the front, faint from what she had heard and witnessed. She stared ahead, not really seeing what lay before her. She broke her trance and looked at the driver who was staring at her. Her green eyes went wide with the shock of recognition as she met the gaze of the older woman. The old woman smiled at her, winked, then reached down to adjust the carpet bag under her seat.
