Banshee Rock (2022)

            Her mother’s words reverberated against the inside of her skull like bad dissonance:

“You can’t go out tonight! The Banshee lies in wait for bad boys and girls who go out on All Hallows Eve.”

Fuck that!

            Taylor wasn’t a little girl anymore. Lies like that didn’t work on her like they used to. She had her learner’s permit for god’s sake! Not that their town was big enough to justify the use of a car, but it was the idea of the thing. A car meant freedom. It meant leaving this shitty, small town for something bigger. It meant bigger concerts, the ones with the bigger bands that skipped over their town for the bigger cities while they were on tour. The ones her parents refused to take her to because “those bands played the Devil’s music”. Her dreams were too big for her small town but they didn’t seem to care. They just wanted “to keep her safe”.

Fuckin’ parents!

            What did they know? They were just scared of the world and fabricated stories in an attempt to pass their fear down to her like some generational curse. The thought skipped across her mind like a needle caught on a warped record as Taylor looked over her shoulder at her parents’ house. It lay looming in the darkness behind her like a mausoleum, windows dark, giving the appearance of sunken eye sockets. They stared at her, inviting her back into the void of their gaze with vampiric intensity. They promised solace to those only chasing safety but behind the eerie calm, she could see the lies. It was all a delusion. The safety was fear. It was nothing but hiding within the cold embrace of darkness and isolation while awaiting death.

Fuck that shit!

            Taylor smiled as she turned back around and left the dark gaze behind her. If the lights were still out that meant she hadn’t woken her parents up sneaking out of her second story bedroom window and shimmying down the drainpipe. Not an easy task in combat boots and fishnets, but one she was familiar with. She fixed her gaze forward, her body buzzed with anticipation of the night ahead. She would meet up with Ayron at the end of the street and they would walk together to the Witching Hour Open Mic, the only cool thing that ever happened in their town. Every year on All Hallows Eve, at midnight, local bands premiered their new music to usher in the thinning of the barrier between the physical and spiritual realms and entertain their mortal audience as well as their ghostly one. According to local legend if you played well enough, you could pierce the veil to the other side and welcome the spirits that haunted their small town to play on stage with you.

Fuckin’ superstitious nonsense!

            She didn’t really believe the town was haunted but the stories made for a cool aesthetic. As the only Goth in town, it was an aesthetic she wore proudly, even if it made her the target of all the local bullies. Ayron, her only friend and the only local punk, didn’t help matters much. A goth and a punk, lurking in the shadows, on the fringes, listening to music no one else liked. What a fuckin’ pairing. The bullying, mixed with her anti-social tendencies, hummed in her parents’ ears like a bad duet every time they were called in to the principal’s office, but she wouldn’t back down from who she was or what she loved. All the jocks and Neanderthals that populated their backwater town could eat shit and jump on a spiked dildo for all she cared.

Fuckin’ red-state, in-breeding bullshit!

            The one streetlight at the end of the block flickered. It didn’t provide much light but Taylor could see enough to know Ayron wasn’t there. He was always running late. She whipped out her phone and texted him. The response was quick. She loved that about him. What she didn’t love, though, was how spacey he could be. He was already at the fucking venue! His text was some bullshit about how he thought they were meeting there. It was 11:30. It took her about twenty minutes to walk to the dive bar where the show was held. Still plenty of time. It wasn’t like she was scared to walk there by herself or anything, she’d done it dozens of times. She was just pissed at Ayron for leaving her. This was their one night together when they could be themselves and be around other people like them and not worry about all the other bullshit their town threw at them.

Fuckin’ idiot!

            The wind whistled around Taylor, surrounding her in its cold, eerily melodic embrace as she stepped out of the cluster of houses that constituted suburban sprawl in their town and provided a sense of safety, or at least the illusion of one, to its sleepy residents. Taylor’s boots echoed in rhythmic time into the darkness as she walked down the winding road through the woods that lead to the venue. The night air offered its reply to Taylor’s percussive footsteps and bit through her hoodie with its cold teeth like piercing feedback through grungy speakers. Her hoodie was worn and not much protection from the elements but she’d be damned if she wore anything else to a concert. This was her lucky hoodie. She’d been wearing it at her first “big concert” two years prior. Ayron’s dad had driven her and Ayron three hours to the nearest big city to attend the show because he was cool and didn’t mention it to her parents because she’d told him they wouldn’t approve. She had been front row for AFI and Davey Havok had reached out, touched her hand and winked at her. She would never forget it. From then on she wore that hoodie to every concert in the nostalgic thrall of recreating that moment.

Fucking euphoria!

            Lost in her own nostalgic reverie, Taylor barely noticed the increasing cold as the wind picked up, whistling its lonely soliloquy through the trees. The moon accompanied with its full and heavy light in the clear, night sky, setting the stage for Taylor’s solitary walk. It was a picturesque All Hallows Eve, almost something out of a horror movie, and here she was, Icabod Crane on his lonely nighttime ride through the woods. Taylor laughed to herself.

Fuck the Headless Horseman!

            The wind picked up. The barren trees clacked their branches together like skeletons rattling in the night. Taylor froze. Out of the corner of her eye she could have sworn she saw a person run through the trees. But that would be impossible. The trees were too close together to run through and a person would have made noise with all the dead leaves on the ground. Despite the logic of her racing thoughts, chills ran down Taylor’s spine.  She couldn’t shake the feeling she was being watched. She shivered and pulled her hoodie tight around her body like armor, as if summoning the memory of that night with Davey Havok would safeguard her against the creeping feeling of dread that hung out there in the night watching, waiting, just outside her eyeline in the darkness beyond.

Fuck this!

            Taylor allowed the thought to reverberate around the inside of her skull with a dissonant whine. Better to be angry than afraid. But she wasn’t afraid. It was all in her head anyway. Ghosts weren’t real. She was just in a bad mood because Ayron had abandoned her and it was fucking cold outside and her stupid, fucking parents were oppressive with their totalitarian, religious beliefs and this school year was bullshit. The fucking jocks with their stupid fucking bullying. No one understood her. She couldn’t fucking wait to get out of this shithole town and start a new life.

Fuck everything!

            Taylor screamed into the night with the unhinged energy of a band about to hit the breakdown. She didn’t know why. She just did. She was alone and she needed a release.

FUCK!

            Her scream echoed back at her from the woods like a call and response from the pit. She was pretty sure it was her echo at least. It had to be. There was no one else out here and trees don’t scream. Taylor looked at her phone. It was 11:55. How was it so late? It had never taken her this long to make this walk. Suddenly Taylor felt the wind claw at her threadbare hoodie. She shivered and had the creeping feeling that she had somehow been walking in place or the woods were expanding before her, stretching to keep her within their cold, dead embrace for as long as possible. But that was crazy. Taylor stopped and took a deep breath to collect her thoughts.

Fucking get it together!

            The wind whistled through the trees, creating a dissonant, melodic soundtrack, the skeletal branches keeping time for the night air with their rhythmic rattle. Underneath it all, like a subliminal message spun backward on a record, Taylor almost felt like she heard the night air calling her name. Impossible. She was just tired from the past week. She needed to hurry or she was going to miss the show. Taylor picked up the tempo of her bootsteps to just below a run. The wind nipped at her heels. That was when she heard it again. The night calling her name.

Fucking no!

            This was creepy. She was scared. She hated being alone. This was bullshit. Thoughts bounced around her mind in a manic staccato. This couldn’t be real. Her imagination was playing tricks on her. Ghosts weren’t real. The woods weren’t alive. The voices were inside her heard, not outside.

Fuck Ayron!

Wait. Taylor stopped. The flurry of intrusive thoughts stopped with abrupt intensity. Ayron knew about the ghost stories her mom conjured about All Hallows Eve and “the Devil’s music” she listened to. This had to be a trick, some elaborate prank. Taylor listened to the night. She heard the dark melody of the wind in the barren trees followed by her name. That had to be Ayron. Son of a bitch was fucking with her.

Fucking bastard!

            Taylor veered off the road and crashed through the trees. The branches were thick and clawed at her clothes, ripping her fishnets. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to let Ayron get away with this. He left her alone and then thought he could play some stupid prank. Taylor was going to turn this on him, set him straight and then they’d head to the venue, maybe miss the first band. This would be quick.

Fucking waste of time.

            Taylor barreled through the trees, snapping branches and cracking dead leaves beneath her boots, creating a cacophony of sound, her own wailing guitar solo to the night. This was the breakdown. She’d expose Ayron and tonight could go as planned after that. That was when she stumbled into the clearing. There were no trees so the moon’s full light flooded the grassy expanse. The long blades of grass swayed in time to the wind like a crowd when the band shifts the set to a ballad, encircling one rocky outcrop in the center. It was built up almost like an altar, or like a stage. It was the perfect place for a person to hide.

Fucking busted.

            The wind whistled around the outcrop as Taylor rushed the rocky stage. She leaped around the side expecting to see Ayron crouched there laughing to himself. There was no one there.

Fuck!

            The night air called her name again. Taylor spun, the trees swaying like dancers to the music of the night, their branches reaching toward her. No, toward the rocky stage. Her eyes darted, desperately seeking out her friend, but she was alone in the clearing. Or she thought she was until she turned back around to look at the rocky outcrop. Standing atop it, lit by moonbeams giving the illusion of stage lights, stood a woman. Her eyes glowed a brilliant, ethereal blue, her flowing clothes billowed out in the night air, giving a haunted, ghostly, Stevie Nicks appearance, except Taylor could see through her translucent body. She was there, but she wasn’t. Some apparition brought on by exhaustion and anxiety. Still, as Taylor stared, the woman stared back. Her voice whipped around Taylor like the melody of the wind that sang through the trees. Taylor stared intently into her eyes, lost in their vast emptiness. She felt the woman call to her, her voice filling her mind with sweet, intoxicating thoughts. She offered peace. She offered a new future and a fresh start. She offered escape. Taylor felt as if her soul was floating outside her body. She saw herself reach out her hand toward the woman. The apparition took Taylor’s hand in her own clawed one. The woman’s eyes flickered. Her appearance shifted in the moonlight, almost imperceptibly, but Taylor saw it from her soul’s vantage point. She screamed at her body standing below her.

FUCK NO!

            Taylor crashed back into her body and shook off the cold feeling that wrapped itself around her, threatening to pull her down into its depths. She didn’t think. She spun on her heel and ran. The woman, the fucking Banshee demon, screamed a shrill cry into the night. It lost its beautiful, haunting tone and replaced it with a guttural shriek.

Fucking nightmare!

            Taylor stole one look over her shoulder as she left the edge of the clearing and ran full tilt into the trees. The Banshee’s appearance had changed from a beautiful woman to what Taylor’s soul had seen as a flicker, now on full display as something twisted, a demonic, hellish figure with red eyes and gnashing teeth screaming into the night for its prey.

Fucking run!

            The trees grabbed and clawed as Taylor ran, as if they were in league with the demon, trying to stop her. Cuts, scrapes, trips and falls. None of it mattered. She had to make it to the venue, to other people, to Ayron. She wasn’t going out this way. She was only fifteen. She was just a kid. She had so much life ahead of her. So much more to experience. She wanted to live.

Fuck death!

            With ragged breathing and shaky, bloodied legs, Taylor burst from the trees and found herself in the parking lot of the dive bar, her hoodie hanging limply from her shoulders, ripped and tattered, offering little protection from the outside world.

Fucking lifeless!

            Taylor turned and looked back at the trees. The Banshee was gone. She laughed to herself to break the tension that had built up inside her body. It had all been in her head. Surely that hadn’t been real. It was just a lifetime of ghost stories and anxiety beating dissonant time inside her mind like some sort of emo anthem.

Fuck ghosts!

            Ayron leaned against the side of the building and smoked a cigarette. He was underage, but he was a punk. Fuck the rules. He nodded an acknowledgement of Taylor’s arrival and walked to meet her halfway as she stumbled through the parking lot. He started in on a pretty decent lecture on the virtues of being on time and not missing the greatest night of the year when he saw his friend up close. She looked like she’d taken a bad fall in a mosh pit. She promised she was okay. She had just attempted a shortcut through the woods and slipped but her eyes told a different story. They looked sunken, haunted. She had seen something.

Fuckin’ eerie.

            Taylor got Ayron off her back as they walked to the entrance of the bar by telling him to “fuck off” enough times for it to sound like a bad refrain in a punk song. They showed their tickets and shuffled inside. They had to stand at the back but they were just in time to see the first band take the stage.

Fuckin’ good!

            They settled in and Taylor drank in the scene. This was her home, where she felt most alive. Nothing bad could happen here. Here she was safe.

Fucking peace.

            The stage lights kicked on and silhouetted the band as smoke billowed across the stage and spilled on to the grimy floor of the bar. Taylor blinked. It must have been a trick of the light but the singer looked familiar as she started to dance to the beat ringing out from the band. The tune was eerily dissonant, like a cold chill on a haunted night. The lights swung around and caught the singer’s eyes.

Fuck!

            A chill ran down Taylor’s spine as the empty, ethereal voids of blue stared out across the crowd and found her. This was the Banshee. She had come here for her. She had missed her chance in the woods and now she was here. Taylor was special, her soul in tune with the demon’s. She was ready for something new, something more than the mortal world could offer. Taylor didn’t know how she knew that, but she felt it. It was as if her soul hummed its own private duet with this spirit, had somehow summoned it to her. Taylor’s blood ran cold under the dark gaze of the demon. It filled her mind, overpowering her thoughts. She had to get away. She pushed past Ayron and made for the door.

The Banshee shrieked!

            The crowd went wild, thinking it to just be part of the act but Taylor knew better as its tone rang out through the bar, choking out everything else. She pulled at the door. It was locked or jammed, held in place by some mystic force from this demon. Taylor spun again, the Banshee staring intently at her, like she was looking through her, into her soul. Taylor felt it as a cold chill worked its way out from her center all the way out to her extremities. She shivered.

The Banshee shrieked!

            Taylor stared back, defiant, lost in the void of this creature’s gaze. She found herself slipping into the rhythm of its song, getting caught up in it. It became oddly comforting the more she allowed herself to be swept up in its thrall. It wasn’t terrifying. It wasn’t demonic. It was heaven.

Fucking euphoria!

            Taylor lost herself in the melody and allowed herself to be swept away. She felt her soul crying out to this ethereal woman, the two of them bonding together in this moment. From this night forward Taylor knew she would never be the same. She felt the thrall of the woman overtake her as she was swept up in the music of the night. She danced. She lost herself as the wind whipped, weaving its magic through the night air. The band played on.

The Banshee sang its song to the night.