| by: Robert Frazier |
The Badlands of Dakota is a harsh place, a blistered landscape full of peril. Around about the
turn of the last century it was made even more so. In this land of strong men and fierce women, a
young couple was quickly falling out of love while at the same time becoming local celebrities for
the music they where making. They had founded a band that was busy becoming famous. The
girl, Alyssa, was a tall proud blonde who sang the blues, some say, with the most wistful voice
ever visited upon a white woman. Her boyfriend and co-band leader, Johnny Sticks, had been a
musical prodigy. He could play any instrument he put his hands on. Johnny played the drums and
was reckoned the best jazz drummer in the region. These two luckless lovers had been so busy
promoting their act that their relationship was falling apart.
They took to driving together between gigs. Johnny behind the wheel, pedal pushed hard,
zipping along in their shinny red convertible. Alyssa sat by Johnny’s side, her hair and driving
scarf billowing out behind her. She would scream at him over the roar of the wind and engine.
Johnny would ignore her, driving faster and faster hands pounding out time on the steering wheel
to the music in his head.
This was how they would be remembered by the inhabitants, racing across the wilderness to or
from some gig or rehearsal. No one knew why they chose the old dirt road that winds its way
through the desert into the area the locals call “the watchdog.” The great butte of rock that
reaches up into the sky was already the stuff of legends. Dark whispers of strange Indian rituals
and cattle that refused to rest in its shadow. But on one particular night Johnny Sticks decided he
would put the pedal to the floor! No one ever knew if it was his girl’s screaming or the hand of the
devil that made Johnny drive like a maniac. They were speeding through the wasteland in the
shadow of the Watchdog when the car suddenly crashed! It was never known if they had hit
something or just lost control but the impact was devastating! Johnny was violently thrown from
the vehicle his body skid across the sand and rocks shedding the life out of him. While Alyssa
remained trapped inside of the burning car, screaming as fire and flying metal tore her to pieces!
The fire was so hot it incinerated Alyssa and the car completely, leaving only a pile of dust that
began to slowly blow away. So there they laid for three days and three nights the burned out
embers of the girl and the corpse of Johnny. Over time his body was feasted upon by the wild
animals leaving only his bones. On the third night something strange happened. From out of the
pile of smoldering remains stepped Alyssa, no longer the beautifully tall blonde who sang the
blues, rather she was now transformed into a formless banshee trapped between this world and
the next.
Alyssa stood staring down through her transparent hands when a yard away something
started to move! The bones of Johnny Sticks struggled up looked around and strolled over to
stand by the banshee. Instead of joy at their rebirth the banshee flew into a rage and began
screaming and spitting at the walking skeleton whose empty eye sockets and perpetual grin
simply stared back in silence. Out of anger or despair each tried to come to blows with the other
only to have the terrible truth revealed, neither could touch the other ever again.
A few days went by with the two of them taking shelter from the heat in the shadow of the
Watchdog they then realized another cruelty, either through some cosmic trick or devilish cruelty
they could not part from each other for very long. Johnny, out of desperation, tried to run away but
after just a few hundred yards found himself right back by Alyssa’s side as if he had never left. So
it is that these two, out of loneliness and despair, attempt to make contact with the living who
travel too close to the Watchdog butte. These unfortunate travelers will be visited by a screaming
ghost or a visage of death—the walking bones of a once living man.
The skeletal form usually appears before the tent flaps or car windows snapping his boney
fingers to any chance music playing. He will remain before the startled victim with his bleached
white bones, eyeless stare and eternal grin and if he is fortunate to happen upon a musical
instrument he will grab it up and stalk off playing it deep into the night.
The banshee usually stands off in the distance trying to serenade her victims with a heart sick
love song but all the helpless traveler will hear is the screaming of the banshee of the badlands.
turn of the last century it was made even more so. In this land of strong men and fierce women, a
young couple was quickly falling out of love while at the same time becoming local celebrities for
the music they where making. They had founded a band that was busy becoming famous. The
girl, Alyssa, was a tall proud blonde who sang the blues, some say, with the most wistful voice
ever visited upon a white woman. Her boyfriend and co-band leader, Johnny Sticks, had been a
musical prodigy. He could play any instrument he put his hands on. Johnny played the drums and
was reckoned the best jazz drummer in the region. These two luckless lovers had been so busy
promoting their act that their relationship was falling apart.
They took to driving together between gigs. Johnny behind the wheel, pedal pushed hard,
zipping along in their shinny red convertible. Alyssa sat by Johnny’s side, her hair and driving
scarf billowing out behind her. She would scream at him over the roar of the wind and engine.
Johnny would ignore her, driving faster and faster hands pounding out time on the steering wheel
to the music in his head.
This was how they would be remembered by the inhabitants, racing across the wilderness to or
from some gig or rehearsal. No one knew why they chose the old dirt road that winds its way
through the desert into the area the locals call “the watchdog.” The great butte of rock that
reaches up into the sky was already the stuff of legends. Dark whispers of strange Indian rituals
and cattle that refused to rest in its shadow. But on one particular night Johnny Sticks decided he
would put the pedal to the floor! No one ever knew if it was his girl’s screaming or the hand of the
devil that made Johnny drive like a maniac. They were speeding through the wasteland in the
shadow of the Watchdog when the car suddenly crashed! It was never known if they had hit
something or just lost control but the impact was devastating! Johnny was violently thrown from
the vehicle his body skid across the sand and rocks shedding the life out of him. While Alyssa
remained trapped inside of the burning car, screaming as fire and flying metal tore her to pieces!
The fire was so hot it incinerated Alyssa and the car completely, leaving only a pile of dust that
began to slowly blow away. So there they laid for three days and three nights the burned out
embers of the girl and the corpse of Johnny. Over time his body was feasted upon by the wild
animals leaving only his bones. On the third night something strange happened. From out of the
pile of smoldering remains stepped Alyssa, no longer the beautifully tall blonde who sang the
blues, rather she was now transformed into a formless banshee trapped between this world and
the next.
Alyssa stood staring down through her transparent hands when a yard away something
started to move! The bones of Johnny Sticks struggled up looked around and strolled over to
stand by the banshee. Instead of joy at their rebirth the banshee flew into a rage and began
screaming and spitting at the walking skeleton whose empty eye sockets and perpetual grin
simply stared back in silence. Out of anger or despair each tried to come to blows with the other
only to have the terrible truth revealed, neither could touch the other ever again.
A few days went by with the two of them taking shelter from the heat in the shadow of the
Watchdog they then realized another cruelty, either through some cosmic trick or devilish cruelty
they could not part from each other for very long. Johnny, out of desperation, tried to run away but
after just a few hundred yards found himself right back by Alyssa’s side as if he had never left. So
it is that these two, out of loneliness and despair, attempt to make contact with the living who
travel too close to the Watchdog butte. These unfortunate travelers will be visited by a screaming
ghost or a visage of death—the walking bones of a once living man.
The skeletal form usually appears before the tent flaps or car windows snapping his boney
fingers to any chance music playing. He will remain before the startled victim with his bleached
white bones, eyeless stare and eternal grin and if he is fortunate to happen upon a musical
instrument he will grab it up and stalk off playing it deep into the night.
The banshee usually stands off in the distance trying to serenade her victims with a heart sick
love song but all the helpless traveler will hear is the screaming of the banshee of the badlands.
| Banshee of the Badlands |
| October 2009 |
| Fiction |
| Copyright 2009 by Robert Frazier |
Editor's Note: This is the best kind of "told around a campfire" ghost story. I think
you'll really enjoy it, especially in that spirit.
you'll really enjoy it, especially in that spirit.