The Uncloaked Banshee

Brona stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, pulling the thin skin beneath her eyes downward with the tips of her fingers, causing her face to look long and haggard. She was actually quite stunning when she wasn’t feeling run down and unmotivated. The first thing most people noticed about her was how pretty she was. But lately her hair seemed to have lost its shine, her skin unusually pale, and her eyes dull and empty. She dismally examined her skin, wondering where the reflection she knew had disappeared to. As the messy bun, piled atop her head began to give way to the weight of itself, her lengthy red waves toppled down over her face, covering her exasperated expression. Just as she began to pull it all back to the top of her head…

“Mooooommmmm!” the tiny voice of her daughter screamed out from the bottom of the stairs. “Mooooommmmm!” she screamed again not even waiting for a response.

“Yes, Charlie, I’ve heard you! Please stop yelling at me from the other room. What, are your legs broken?” Brona challenged. She often did exactly what she scolded her kids not to do, which she realized as she shouted back. But these days the exhaustion didn’t leave her much room for being correct. Brona quickly wrapped the mop of hair upon her head, tying it twice as tight this time, splashed some cold water across her face and headed down to finish making breakfast for her children.

This was a typical morning in the Bryne household, never a quiet moment for Brona to tend to herself. Someone barging into her room, knocking at the bathroom door, or yelling her name across the house, always interrupted her thoughts. There wasn’t a safe space in her home where she could hide and breathe in peace. Dinner was never made without a barrage of questions like: What’s for dinner? When will it be ready? Can I watch this movie? Where are my favorite shorts? Can so-and-so come over? Mom, look at this!

It was enough to make any person scream, but lately Brona had been feeling particularly overwhelmed with all of the hats she had to wear, the overflowing calendars, and plates she had to juggle. She would try to fantasize about life prior to a full-fledge family, but it was hard to envision clearly before…

“Mom, did you remember to sign my field trip paper?” Charlie’s voice hovered over the kitchen island as Brona attempted to make coffee. “Yes, Charlie, it’s over….” She glanced over her should to the basket on the hallway table where she would always put signed paper, lunch money, and other things that needed to be returned to school. Her voice faltered as she realized the basket was empty and through the hallway she saw muddy footprints. Her daughter didn’t notice what Brona was staring at, she’d hardly noticed Brona had stopped talking; she simply went back to munching on her self-made toast and staring into her iPod.

Brona felt heat rise to her face, thinking Charlie or Grace had some how managed to track mud through the house and not clean it up. But as she neared the trail of dirt, she felt chills go down her spine as she realized that the prints were too big to be one of the girls, since they were only in second and fourth grade. She examined the outline of feet in dried mud, still holding a bottle of creamer in one hand. Whoever had stepped through their hallway had small feet, though not quite child size, but definitely not the size of a man’s footprint. It seemed they were barefoot too because Brona could make out toe marks and they certainly did not look like shoe treads. Terrified at the potential intrusion, Brona quickly gathered her daughters and shoved them out the back door and over to the neighbor’s house.

CJ Petran, Brona’s neighbor was a strikingly charming woman. She stood about 5’7” with a slim face that was framed off by lustrous black hair that sat just below her shoulders and was usually tussled in loose, effortless waves. She was mostly found walking around in ath-leisure wear with a coffee cup from the local brew, no matter what time of day it was. No one in the neighborhood really knew what CJ did for a living; it was some complicated title that translated into an explanation that was longer than your average elevator pitch. Brona and her never really became friends, though Brona did appreciate CJ’s odd sense of humor and her dedication to her children. So she never had any issue swapping child watch duties with CJ when the need arose for either of them.

CJ came to the back sliding glass door with a puzzled look on her face.

“Morning!” She said as she slid open the glass with one hand, fresh brew in the other. The quizzical look remained.

“Hi!” Brona said hurriedly, as she shoved her way past CJ with the girls in tow.

“Are you okay?” CJ asked, setting her cup down on the extended oak table near the door.

“I was hoping you could take girls to school this morning?” Brona said in the form of a question as she continued to focus on her breathing.

“Sure thing! Do I ask?” CJ posed cautiously.

Brona leaned in where the girls could not hear and whispered to CJ, “I think someone broke into our home last night. I found footprints in the entryway and I need to figure out what happened. I don’t want the girls there. For all I know, whoever it was could still be in the house.” Brona half-heartedly jested, not really meaning it but acknowledging the possibility.

CJ exhaled an unintended gasp as her eyes widened, but as she noticed Charlie, Grace, and her kids turn around she quickly fixed her face and replied, “That’s fantastic!”

She gave Brona a knowing nod and continued, “Say no more. I’ll pick them up too. Just let me know when everything has settled.”

“Thank you,” Brona responded and with that she was kissing the girls goodbye and sliding back through the door to return home.

***

WAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. WAAAAAAHHHHHHHH.

A startling wailing was carrying through the silent air of the crisp night. Houses were settled in for the evening and families tucked away in their covers. The keening continued to gain momentum, as the cloaked figure seemed to float through the darkness. The sorrow she felt was so deep, it was radiated through her soul and extended outward into the way she carried herself as she moved down the sidewalk. She didn’t want to cry out, but she couldn’t stop it. Her face felt sunken in, her mouth dry, and heavy tears continued to fall from her eyes without her permission. In the lone night sky the only thing that accompanied her was the moonlight, the stars, and an older gentleman who seemed to appear out of nowhere. He spotted her from across the street and gasped aloud. She called to him from her side of the street, but all that would come out was a deeply wicked howl. She reached her arm out from the draped cloak to reveal a very thin, extremely pale hand that looked quite fragile as it shook. The only response from the man was a visible shiver and a quick turn down the closest side street. Anger rose up from within and her face began to feel hot at the reaction of the man. Clearly, she was in need of help and this man couldn’t bother to extend any kindness. A rolling sob started bubbling up from her diaphragm again, the sad moans almost sounding like a terrifying song, like a warning without words.

The cloaked woman turned away from the street and into a clearing where the moonlight beckoned to her. The ground was soft and her feet were bare, sinking into the mud feeling as though she was being swallowed whole.

***

Brona had examined all the locks, the windows, and the entire house to no avail. She found nothing, but insisted on calling the police anyhow for peace of mind. They’d come and gone long before the girls returned home. One of the officers had took one look at Brona and begin a line of questioning that felt a bit intrusive to her. Asking how much sleep she was getting and whether or not she was on any medications that cause hallucinations. She even found that officer later examining all the shoes in the foyer. The situation ultimately frustrated her, but she did not regret calling. She had scrubbed the floors and put everything back in order, she even managed to get a hot shower in, but somehow none of it killed the lingering feeling of doubt and confusion. She’d called her husband about the whole ordeal later that afternoon, since she’d decided not to go to work with all of the commotion. He was certainly concerned, but their call was cut short by a conference he was being paged to. In the click of the other line, Brona felt very alone. That was the thing about families, you can be completely surrounded at all times and still somehow feel utterly invisible.

Later that evening, as Brona cleaned up the dishes from dinner, ordered the girls to follow through on their nightly tasks, and began to make lunches for the next day she caught a glimpse of herself in the kitchen window. Her face looked distorted and grim. She’d never felt so hollow and it seemed her looks were beginning to mirror her insides. As she cleaned up the last of the items in the kitchen and grabbed her phone, she noticed CJ had texted her.

CJ:Did you catch the local update on the iSight App? 10 minutes ago

Brona responded.

Brona:No? I never downloaded that app. What was the update?

CJ:There’s some cloaked woman roaming about at night! People have reported seeing her here and there over the past few weeks. I guess more have spotted her now…

Brona:What?

CJ:Yea! They just reported on it earlier today. Did the cops ever mention it when they were at your place?

Brona:No! That’s crazy. Is she dangerous? What else has been said?

CJ:Not much. Just that no one really saw her face, but she looked ghostly and pale. Was cloaked. 1 person said they saw her mouth open, but didn’t hear anything from her. Oh! And she had really long hair!

Brona:Sounds like an old Irish legend my Mum use to tell me – Banshees. But you can hear the wailing. Weird.

CJ:Okay Brona, doubt it’s a BANSHEE. Lol but definitely keep your doors locked!

And with that, their conversation ended. Though she knew banshees and changelings and such were just stories her mum would tell her from the old country, Brona couldn’t shake the eerie parallel of CJ’s description or the muddy footprints from earlier.

After tucking the girls in and going over the details from the day with her husband, Brona sunk into a bubble bath with a glass of wine. This was a rarity for her, but given her long and eventful day, her husband urged her to take a moment to unwind. He’d even poured her the glass and brought it to her in the bath. As she sat there replaying the moments of the day, she felt her body relax. So much so, she’d set her wine down on the stone that surrounded the tub and let her body slide deeper into the tub. Before she knew it, the warm water that smelled of lavender and honey was over her head and all she could hear was the echoing sounds of the air above the tub. She wasn’t sure why she’d felt compelled to slip under the water, but she also knew she didn’t feel like popping her head back up quite yet… that was, until she heard a very startling cry from outside the window.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

The wail was haunting and pierced Brona internally. She splashed up from the water in a panic, spilling large drops onto the floor as she turned her head right then left. A painful chill went down her spine as she heard the anguished cry again, sounding as though it was just beneath the bathroom window.

“That couldn’t be, I’m on the second floor,”she thought to herself. Then her text conversation with CJ popped into her head and she froze. BANSHEE! She called loudly for her husband, hoping whoever or whatever was outside wouldn’t hear her.

“Caleb!” She shouted, still splashing about, trying her best to get out of the tub quickly. “Caleb!”

She heard some fumbled footsteps thudding up the stairs in a rush and the door flung open. Caleb’s face looked concerned, given the day’s events and the frantic tone of his wife’s call. When he saw Brona standing half out of the tub, her face was icy and pale. She looked ghostly to him or as if she’d seen one. Her red locks were dripping wet and clinging to her elbows and sides, she was a mess.

“Brona!” He said panicked. “What on earth?”

“Caleb, did you hear that?” she replied.

“Hear what, dear?” he was now a bit confused as to what was going on.

“That wailing? You…You had to have heard that! It was just outside the window here.” She pointed at the frosted glass.

“I don’t think that’s possible dear,” he said as he propped open the window and peered down below. “It was likely just a stray cat or some kids walking by. I doubt anything was outside of the window though; we’re on the second floor. There’s no way for anything to get up here, let alone be at THIS window.”

“No, I heard it. I know I did. It was right there. It was so loud, like someone…or something was screaming, crying.” Brona pleaded.

“Something? I believe you Brona. I just think maybe it was some kids roaming the streets or something like that.”

“At Eleven O’clock at night? What if it’s not kids or a cat? What if…“ She couldn’t finish her sentence. She knew if she said a banshee, Caleb would laugh himself out of the room.

“Alright, Hun. I’ll go and check the perimeter. I’ll let you know when all is clear. You stay here and dry off.” He kissed her gently on her forehead and trotted down the stairs and out of the house to examine their yard, and the surrounding area. About fifteen minutes later Caleb reentered the house and gave her the all clear. By this time, Brona had dried off, slipped into some lounge pants that were a bit too long and a tank top and was in the kitchen making tea.

“Do you want some?” She asked as he hopped onto the counter to sit.

“Sure.” He replied.

“So there was really nothing out there?” She questioned.

“Nope. Not a thing. Like I said, probably just a stray cat or some raccoons fighting over the neighbors garbage.”

“That’s so strange…” Brona trailed off.

They sat there in silence sipping their tea, each wrapped up in their own thoughts. Brona still feeling unsettled and Caleb mapping out his calendar for work for the following day. Not much time passed before they’d finished their tea and both headed up for bed. It didn’t take Caleb long to fall asleep. He was always out like a light within five minutes of hitting the mattress. Brona on the other hand had not been sleeping well lately. She couldn’t remember having had a good nights sleep in a few weeks. She went into the bathroom to grab a sleeping aid she’d picked up at the local drugstore last week. Staring at herself in the mirror again she could hardly recognize the pale faced woman looking back. She opened the cap and jostled little round blue pills into her hand. She was aiming for two but a whole handful slid out and she just stared down at them all for a moment trying to make sense of how she was feeling and the strange thoughts that had began to creep into the cracks of her mind.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH! WAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!

Startled, Brona fumbled the bottle and pills scattered across the floor. The wailing had returned and was louder than before, desperate even. Brona rushed to the window and flung it open, because in the stories her mum told, the banshee would wail beneath a window, would warn of death to come, but she saw nothing. She rushed down the stairs and to the door when she stopped dead in her tracks. Foot prints.

There they were again, muddy footprints, bare and small heading to the kitchen. Her heart began to race and her face became hot. As she rushed to follow the trail to the kitchen, it disappeared. No more footprints. No more sad moaning. Brona shook her head; she was really starting to feel as though she’d lost it. She grabbed her phone, took a picture of the footprints before scrubbing them away. She scoured the house and checked all the locks before returning upstairs. She checked on both girls who were still sound asleep and then made her way to her bedroom, attempting to rest her mind.

***

WWWWAAHHHHHHHH! AAAAAHHHHHH!

Low tones rolled and thundered from her throat. She was desperate and disheveled. Hovering between houses, with the hood of her cloak shielding her face from the moonlight, she moved slowly. The echoes of her screams bounced off the siding of the house she stood before. It was almost morning and she’d been walking a while. Her feet covered once again in mud, her hair cascading limply out from the sides of her hood, and her sobs being muffled by the thickness of night. Pain lived there in the broken notes of her melody. Her keen was a crescendo through the hall, a fire alarm set free from her throat. She was now inside of a house… a home with pictures on the walls of faces that looked familiar but somehow felt distant. Her cries became urgent and felt as though they would break her throat open if someone didn’t hear her soon.

***

Caleb woke first and headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He noticed the spill of sleeping pills across the bathroom rug and an uncapped bottle in the sink. The bathroom window had been left open and muddy footprints spanned the carpet. They were small in size and led to the bed where his wife was not. He flew to the girl’s rooms and noticed the trail of footprints heading to each bedroom and then stopping at the doorframe. He checked on them both, asleep still, and seemingly unharmed, he made his way quickly down the stairs. Muddy footprints continued through the hallway and into the kitchen where a cloaked figure stood facing the kitchen sink. What normally would have startled him didn’t when he recognized the cloak.

“Brona?” Caleb said with concern as he wondered why she was wearing her dress cloak, the one she only took out for Christmas parties and New Year’s Eve. He studied her as she slowly turned around; her feet were bare and covered in mud. Her face so pale yet somehow she still was utterly stunning to him. Her red waves cascaded down from the sides of the hood that was pulled over her eyes.

She cried loud sorrowful cries and heavy tears fell from her lids. Caleb didn’t move. Her crying was louder but Caleb remained still.

“Brona, Hun… why are you standing with your mouth open? Babe, were you sleepwalking? Can you hear me?” he said calmly as he started to approach her slowly to remove her cloak and get her cleaned up. He didn’t want to wake her if she was sleepwalking. Her eyes were open, she’d never done this before, but he just couldn’t be sure.

Brona wasn’t sleepwalking though. She was awake, swirling in a weighted fog that felt thick with distance and detachment. But she was awake and it was then that she realized Caleb couldn’t hear her. He couldn’t hear her cries at all. No one could, except her.

***

After a shower, some tea, and a nap Brona woke to find a note from her husband that the girls were at school and he’d gone to the store and would be back shortly. She looked around the house, no more muddy footprints. The house was quiet and she could actually think. Her recollection of the morning had been hazy, until she turned to see her holiday dress cloak laying over the back of the kitchen chair and the lounge pants she had put on the night before draped over the cloak. The pants had mud all over the bottom of each leg. She examined the garments carefully tracing the stitching with her fingers; her movements were slow and deliberate. Brona then walked into the downstairs bathroom and gave herself a once over in the mirror, but what she saw startled her to the bone. Staring back at her was her reflection, though much paler than before. Her reflection had the cloak over her eyes and her mouth was wide open. Brona felt her face, she wasn’t screaming, she wasn’t wearing the cloak, the cloak was in the kitchen. Just then, the wailing shattered through the mirror and summoned something inside of Brona that she couldn’t ignore.

WAAAAHAHHHHHHHHHHH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Brona understood in that moment, that there was a reason only she could hear the wailing all this time. The desolate cries had been for her, they were her warning. This banshee that had been spotted, wasn’t a banshee the way her mum had told the stories, but a very depressed Brona who felt so separate from her conscious self, that she seemed like a completely different entity. She wasn’t being haunted by some spirit, she was being warned by a piece of herself that knew if she didn’t find her voice, if she didn’t ask for help soon, she would be in serious trouble.

When Caleb returned back from the store, Brona sat him down and gently began to outline her need for support. They talked for an hour while Caleb listened patiently and Brona began to find the way to tell him that she needed help, more than he could give her and more than she could give herself. And as he nodded and held her hand, trying his best to understand her, she caught a glimpse of her self in the sliding glass door and saw the cloaked figure fading... backing

away…disappearing into the sound of her actual voice that had now been found.

#dark #TWISTED #DEPRESSION #HALLOWEEN #SPIRITS #TWIST #FICTION #shortstories