Chill in the Glen

A frosty chill fell upon my shoulders. My breath became visible in the cold. A light woman’s singing an unrecognizable tune. It was melodious and sweet. The trouble was that in this open field the tune was not echoing across but seemed to be nearby. I stopped my trek through the open meadow that looked as though it had been on a canvas in a museum. Turning slowly in a circle I looked for the person singing. No one.

Still hearing the tune and thinking that it must be a trick of the meadow with its rolling hills. I turned back to the direction I was headed and came face to face with a pale woman’s face. She was angry and foaming at the edges of her mouth. She was dressed in all white, like a robe or long dress. Her hands rose from her waist trembling like she was barely in control of her rage. I could still hear the singing, although it was more of a humming now. I took a step back not wanting to be strangled by this deranged woman.

Her face changed slowly into a skeletal face, and she began to scream. The scream got louder and louder, filing my ears, and causing my eyes to vibrate.

As I crumpled to the ground trying to jam my fingers into my ears farther to muffle the scream, a flash memory popped into my mind. “Beware of the Banshee in the glen. She has been seen recently.” I laughed it off as a tourist gimmick. My eyes explode and the hot fluid runs between my fingers. The last thought that crossed my mind was how will my family find me…