THE BANSHEE

4

And soon she was. She continued to climb, upwards, into the fog, finishing her nightly ascent to heaven knows where! I decided that I was being a coward. She was just a woman, and soon a new curiosity took hold me of. I found myself crossing the room and unlocking my door. Where did this new bravery spring from? Where was it taking me? But I knew the answer. It was taking me to the woman. Up the stairs. My ascent was quick, and I carried the lantern with me into the fog, soon the mist enveloped me, and I could see nothing but the stairs in front of me. Before long, I found myself once again on level ground. I had reached the top of the stairs. The mist was somewhat clearer up here, and I could see that I was standing in a road, more houses were built on up either side of me. So this is where the woman climbed to each night. It seemed silly now, to have followed her here. Whatever her reasons for climbing those stairs, it was none of my business. I looked around for her, without success. She seemed to have vanished, perhaps into one of the houses. Perhaps this is where she lived. I suddenly felt very alone and vulnerable. Why had I come here? I was a fool! I turned to return the way I came, and there she was! Standing right behind me in the night! The woman! She screamed, and I'll never forget the way my heart grew cold, those terrible eyes staring right into my soul!

The next thing I knew I was lying in my bed, caught in a terrible sweat. Had it really happened? I could not say. But I knew that the woman was real, and I was still in my apartment in Brazil. The memory or dream stood burning like a fire in my mind. I rose and looked out the wide window. The day was overcast and raining, clouds as far as I could see.

That day was spent indoors, as the weather would not allow me to leave. Somehow being close to the stairs was the worst thing for me, and I found myself dreading having to climb up to my apartment alone. After too much schoolwork and many card games with my niece, Josiah returned from the University and preparations began for dinner. We were short one ingredient, and I volunteered to go down to the bakery and fetch it. Some fresh air would do me some good, I reasoned. I put on a poncho and descended the wet, slippery steps to the street below. The walk was a brisk one, and the wind was howling the entire way to the end of the street. It seemed an ill omen, as if I could not escape the woman's howling, even now during the day. The rain followed me wherever I went, and despite my poncho, I found myself soaked from head to foot by the time I stepped into the bakery.

Using my basic understanding of Portuguese, I was able to conduct a transaction for some additional flour, and as I about to walk out the door, who should I run into but Vagna from the day before! He seemed glad to see me, and though I didn't want to stay and talk, I indulged the poor chap for a moment, mostly as a favor for my rescue the other day. He invited me to come with him to his place for dinner, I politely refused, some other time perhaps, I suggested. It seems he didn't like my refusal of his invitation, I'm not familiar with the customs of Brazil, it may be that I offended his honor and broke some sort of cultural custom, but I did not trust the man and I would risk offending one villager for the exchange of my own safety. I quickly walked home and this time on the stairs I did not look back.

The evening seemed to pass too quickly. Dinner ended, conversation began, but once again I found myself distracted. All I could think about was the woman. What if she was a banshee? I wondered. Was she trying to warn me? Was someone going to die? I suddenly began to feel very ill, and paranoia set in. Who could it be. My brother? His wife? Myself? I returned to my apartment and no sooner had I entered then I heard the woman on the stairs, howling and wailing. I stepped back out to watch. I wanted to see her. There she was on the stairs below, howling and sobbing, making her way towards me. I stepped back inside, the rain was still pounding down and I wondered at how she was able to stay brave the elements. I stayed in the doorway for what seemed like an eternity. The sobbing had stopped, I realized. She was gone. Had I missed her? Perhaps she turned back because of the weather? I opened the door to see what had become of her only to find her standing right before me. She looked into my eyes and emitted the most terrible shriek I've ever heard. I felt like my bones had turned to glass and were about to shatter into a thousand pieces.

I fell back inside, stumbling and falling onto the ground. To my terror, the woman entered, she looked around, lifted a white, ghostly hand and pointed into the darkness of my bedchamber. She wailed again, breaking into a fit of sobbing. I turned to where she was pointing and was shocked again to find a man standing there in the dim light. He stepped forward, his hiding place revealed. It was Vagna, waiting for me in my own house! He carried a sharp metal pole in his hands, no doubt to be used with malicious intent. He wasted no time, swinging the stick at me, trying to impale me! I rolled out of the way, backing up towards the far end of the room. He was trapping me, soon I would have nowhere to go! Vagna wound up for one final swing, I dodged it, falling and rolling on the ground. But Vagna had put too much force into his swing, he lost his balance and fell forward. A heavy gust of wind swept through the house, pulling the glass doors open as he fell upon them. The balcony broke underneath his weight, and Vagna fell from sight. I looked out the window to see his body on the stairs below. I turned, but the wailing woman was gone. I ran to the door and looked up and down the stairs, but it was as if she had vanished into thin air!

To this day, I cannot say what became of the woman. But I do know what I saw, and I admit I cannot explain it. Some things cannot be explained away by ration, that much I have learned and am able to admit. And even if I live my life as a rational man, ruled by logic and facts, I will never be able to deny my own supernatural experience of the woman on the stairs.