This ain't Steinbeck

I'm bored and it is too cool and windy to play golf or ride a motorcycle. So I started a story. It is a crappy story, but I thought it might be fun if the few people who visit this blog could pick up on it and continue it by posting the next lines, or chapters. It's not a new concept, but new here. Anyway, here is my start:

Tito awoke from his stupor, swatting at the fly that had landed on his forehead. He rolled over on the straw mat and looked toward the screenless window, watching the breeze push the faded curtains into the room that was beginning be lighted by the hot rays of the morning sun. Nearby, Juan was still asleep, snoring. Juan cradled the half empty gallon jug of red wine under his arm like a lover. He continued to snore.

Tito crawled to his knees and reached for the jug of wine. He gently pulled it from under Juan’s arm, taking care not to disturb him. Sitting back, he put the jug between his legs and unscrewed the cap. Surely Juan would not begrudge him just a sip of their hard-won prize. After all, they had both worked to get it, and neither worked harder than the other. It was not easy to distract the shopkeeper and hide a gallon of wine without being noticed. Since the jug was half empty, they must have shared it equally, though Tito could not remember this with any certainty. He could also not remember what they had done with the two chickens that they had taken from the yard of the old woman down the hill in the small house with the picket fence that was falling apart and in need of paint. He did remember stealing the chickens, and that was a good thing. Where they were now was not something he knew. Perhaps they had eaten them. Tito wasn’t hungry, so this could very well be the case.

Tito decided not to think of the chickens for the moment. He focused on the jug. He waved a fly off the lip and carefully raised it to his mouth, tilting it slowly so as not to spill any of the wine. He took a small sip, mindful that he should drink no more than his share. Juan would eventually awaken, and would also want a taste. Another small sip would surely be alright. After all, if it had been Juan drinking, Tito certainly would not object, considering that they had equal claim to it. He took another drink which lasted longer than he had intended. This was fair, Tito concluded afterwards, since he had been the one that had found the chickens in the yard of the old woman in the first place.

Contribution from Kevin B:

Juan awoke with a start, he'd had a nightmare about immigration finding their hiding place, not to mention stolen chickens. After he rubbed the sleep from his eyes he focused on Tito, who looked just as drunk as he remembered him the night before. Upon closer scrutiny he didn't see any chicken left by the fire, that had mostly burned out anyway. He asked Tito, "Donde es mi pollo", but Tito was passing out and didn't answer. This infuriated Juan and he yelled, " Pendaho, mucho travaho para nada, donde es mi comida? Tito was passed out and gurgling saliva out of the corner of his mouth. But there was a good side, Juan noticed that there was a new gallon of wine, and not even opened at that. His anger subsided even if his hunger did not, Tito had done well after all.

It was quite a while later, and almost the whole gallon of wine when Juan's hunger returned. He looked around their hiding place but there was nothing to eat, not even a chicken scrap. That's when he noticed Tito sleeping, hmm, he thought, I have eaten worse things. It would be a lot to eat, but at least he would eat... for a while.

Contribution from Dan M.:

Suddenly the sound of a diesel engine crashed into the side of the shed. The pulsation beating of the engine cracked and splintered Tito’s head. He held his hands up to his ears to quiet the sound but the bass sounds droned through his fingers. Juan stirred a little, shifting his position then continued snoring after a quiet pause that unnerved Tito slightly. "Sleep-apnia." he mused to himself.
The engine was close to the old shed that Tito and Juan shared. They had stumbled into it in the drunken stupor of a haze of wine and a flurry of chicken feathers. Tito peered through a loose board in the shed and saw blue diesel smoke rise up from behind the grove of willows about a stone’s throw away from the shed.
Tito shook Juan awake. “Wake up! Wake up! This shed is not abandoned. The padron is out there on his tractor and he’s probably headed this way.”
Juan grunted and tried to focus his bleary eyes. “What…” he said, “What’s happening man?”
Tito rattled off a staccato reply, “We’re gonna get killed if you don’t wake up and start moving. We gotta get out of here. NOW!”
Tito hauled Juan's flabby carcass to a standing position. Juan teetered on wobbly legs. “Come on!” Tito hissed, “Move it! You’re as slow as an old woman.”
“Wait!” Juan said, “Help me open this trap door. We gotta get the chickens!”
Tito yelled back as he peered through a crack in the shed siding, "Okay, okay! Hurry it up."
Juan pulled on a ring attached to a trap door in the floor. The door creaked and the dust glowed and swarmed in the light that shone from below.
"I didn't leave no light on for them chickens." Juan said half to himself.
"If we don't get down there now and sack those chickens, we're dead! That tractor is getting closer!" Tito spat.
The tractor had revved and then ground into first gear as Juan and Tito tripped down the steps into the musky, humid cellar.

Contribution from Caryn:

Tito managed to salvage one chicken and he clutched it tightly in both arms. The chicken was apprehensive about being in Tito’s presence, she made uneasy clucking sounds which seemed to reverberate in the cellar. As Tito and Juan descended down the steps they noticed that the air that they breathed in was thick and stale. They both secretly hoped that there was another exit in the cellar other than the one that they narrowly escaped from. The stairs creaked and bowed with each step that they took. This concerned Juan because he was a hefty man and he didn’t want the stairs to collapse while he was on them.

When they safely reached the bottom, Juan flicked open his trusty Zippo lighter and scanned the room. The first thing that he noticed was that the walls were reinforced by wooden beams. They were similar in design to a miner’s cave. The floor was littered with old boxes and antique tools. Juan’s eyes became bigger with the realization of what they had just stumbled upon. Tito whispered to Juan, “I don’t like it in here.” Juan rolled his eyes, “Tito, I think that our luck has finally turned around. If this leads to where I think it does, we just might strike gold.” Tito’s face brightened with the word ‘gold‘. Tito cried out, “Then what are we doing standing here?” as he leaned over and grabbed a miner’s helmet and placed it firmly on his head with one hand. With the prospects of finding treasure he shifted the chicken’s weight and proceeded to explore the cellar looking for an entrance into the mine. Juan followed suit so that he would not lose out on his opportunity to make it rich. Juan and Tito weaved themselves deeper into the cave all the while, unbeknownst to them, every movement that they made was being watched by an unsuspecting inhabitant.

Squirrel Boy's next contribution:

Tito and Juan moved further into the dark tunnel, carefully picking their way over rocks and old, dusty and rotting timbers. Above them and in the distance, they could hear the padron’s tractor. The ground above their heads shook as chunks of dirt rained down on their heads. Tito was trying to manage balancing his miner’s helmet on his head and control his frightened, wriggling chicken.

Tito looked nervously at Juan, holding his chicken tightly under his arm.
“Do you think it’s safe in here?” he stammered.
“Do you think we have a choice, pendejo? We maybe have only one way out, and also the chance for riches, so why don’t you quit your whining and wipe the chicken poop off your shirt and get moving!”

Behind them a board creaked.

“What’s that!?” Tito exclaimed in a high voice.
“Probably your great aunt. Now let’s keep moving.”

The two men moved deeper into the tunnel, lighted only by Juan’s Zippo lighter. Behind them came a soft, shuffling noise, like footsteps dragging in soft dirt.

Juan whirled around and held out his lighter. He peered into the darkness past the four foot circle of light that his lighter provided, his eyes squinting. The lighter was growing hot in his hands.

“Must be some kind of badger or something,” he said unconvincingly even to himself, turning back toward the tunnel. “Come on. Keep moving! Hey! Did you grab the wine?”
“I thought you did!” said Tito.
“Never mind. Just get going.”
As the two men continued deeper into the tunnel, the sound of the tractor gradually faded. Tito’s chicken had stopped clucking, and Juan’s lighter was beginning to dim.

Tito turned to Juan. “I don’t think we should go any further. I’ve got a bad feeling about this place. It’s scary, and it smells bad."

“Just what do you suggest we do, pendejo?” Juan was getting irritated.

“I think we should go back,” Tito said. “Back up to the house or shed or whatever you want to call it, and make a run for it. Hell, we weren’t doing anything wrong, just sleeping there. Plus, your lighter is almost out. Once that goes, we won’t be able to see!”

“Aye Caberon! Don’t you have any faith in me? I mean, who got you out of prison? Huh, who?”

“You did.”

“Who taught you how to steal chickens and wine?”

“You did.”

"And who taught you how to hit a soft lob wedge from 40 yards and make it spin back toward the cup?'

Tito looked blankly at Juan.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

“Oh, yeah. That was in a different story. Nevermind. You should have more faith in me. But if you want to go back, we can. Up to you,” said Juan.

“I would feel much safer if we did go back up.” said Tito.

“Fine. We go back up.”

Juan was not happy, and it showed in his face. The lines in his forehead grew deeper.

Just then, Tito noticed a light coming from the far end of the tunnel. It was somewhat yellow, and it glowed.

“What the?!” exclaimed Tito under his breath. Juan turned to look.

Both men stood silently in the darkness. Juan clicked his lighter shut. They did not move. They watched the faint yellow shades of the light dance gently and silently on the tunnel walls.

“What do we do now?” Tito whispered.

Contribution by Dan M:

Tito and Juan backed up tight against the dirt walls of the cave and tried to be as invisible as possible hiding behind the support beams. Juan's abundant girth caught the shaft of light as it moved closer. He sucked in but it startled the chicken into a clucking fit. Juan grabbed her beak and held it tight. The probing yellow light moved listlessly in the distance.

As the light moved closer Juan and Tito waited in silence. Tito's heart was pounding in his ears. Then he heard the shuffling in the dirt. That sound of something dragging or being dragged.

Juan whispered across to Tito, "What do we do man? Something's coming from both directions! We're trapped!"

Tito snarled back at him, "Shut up you idioto! You're going to get us killed yet."

Juan squirmed and pushed back hard against the cave wall.

Something gave. The beam tipped, the wall broke away and Juan disappeared into the wall.

The wall support tipped but held the roof beam, barely.

Tito lunged for Juan.

They both plummeted through the opening and rolled and twisted down and down until they finally landed in a clump in what seemed like an open area which was quite a ways below the original mine shaft. It was colder.

The chicken clucked and the sound echoed three times.

"A deep, wet underground cavern." Juan said as he pulled himself out of the water.

"You know what man?" he went on, "it smells better down here."

"Are you kidding me it reeks!" Tito said as he pulled his head out of Juan's arm pit. Tito felt around in the inky darkness. He felt water. He held his finger up to his nose. It was odorless.

He tasted it. It was bitter.

"Madre de Dios! We're in a deep underground cavern." Tito said.

"Ya, that's what I said man!" Juan spat back at him.

"I've heard about this cavern. We should not be here! The story goes that this cavern is haunted by a witch. She's a water witch. They say that no one who's come in this cave of black water has ever come out alive." Tito's voice was quivering.

Juan said bleakly, "Maybe she'd take a nice chicken dinner instead of us."

Just then a tremendous crash shattered the stillness and boulders and dust started cascading down on Juan, Tito and the chicken.

Latest by SB:

Rocks were falling everywhere. Tito and Juan did their best to dash to a portion of the cavern that wasn’t collapsing.

“It must be the Padron and his tractor! He’s trying to kill us!” Tito said.

“No, I don’t think so,” Juan’s eyes closed and he sighed heavily, “I think it is because we’re not supposed to be here,” he said with resignation in his voice. “I don’t hear no tractor. This is something bigger than that, we’re doomed to have the life juices sucked out of us by La Mujer de la Cueva. The woman of the cave.”

“You know,” Tito said, “You don’t really have to translate for me. I speak Spanish after all.”

Juan thwapped Tito’s forehead with his finger.

“I’m only doing it for the readers, pendejo! Give me a break! Where’s the chicken?”

“Right here! She’s safe but kind of nervous I think. She pooped on me several times.”

The falling rocks had subsided, leaving a cloud of dust in the cavern. Oddly enough they did not need Juan’s lighter to see at this moment. As the dust cleared there was glowing light still filtering in from the hole above them that had grown larger as they fell through. Although minimal, they could make out the walls and some of the floor of the cavern. Water was pouring in from numerous cracks in the walls, and what was once a thin sheen of dampness on the floor and small puddles was now growing deep with water.

“I hope this water stops soon,” Juan said, “or we might drown or have to wait for it to float us up to the hole, and I don’t want to go there.”

“Do you think I should let our chicken go?” Said Tito.

Juan turned to Tito in the slightly lit darkness.

“At this point, I don’t really give a damn about that chicken. If we get out of here alive I will be very surprised.”

Tito hung his head.

“I was just thinking she might be able to swim better than we can,” he muttered.

“Have you ever seen a swimming chicken,” Said Juan, “If you have, I would be very, very surprised.”

“I don’t want to fight about it, I was just thinking she might do better if she was on her own,” Tito said, apologetically.

At that moment the chicken raised its head from under Tito’s arm and started clucking wildly. She was trying to peck at the walls of the cavern. Tito held her closer to the nearby wall.

“I think she’s trying to tell us something!”

With Tito holding her up the chicken continued to peck at the rock wall of the cavern.

“I tell you, she’s got an idea!” Exclaimed Tito. Juan leaned against the wall of the cavern and shook his head as the water rose around them. Doubting Tito’s sanity, Juan flipped open his Zippo lighter and held it near the wall where the chicken was pecking. It took several tries to get it to light, but eventually it was illuminating the rock face of the cavern. The chicken continued pecking at the wall as the water rose higher.

Contribution by Sue:

Tito became more excited as the water began to rise. Sheer panic took over and he began to pound the wall with his miner's helmet exactly where the chicken was pecking. He thought it was better to die with a crushed skull of his own doing than to drown. Many nights he woke up hearing someone screaming only to realize the long loud piercing cry was his own voice. The vivid memories of loved ones drowning in the Rio Grande as they crossed to reach this country will remain with him forever. He did not make it across that wide river to die by drowning! His adrenaline rush was more than enough to break through the wall.

The water rushed through the ragged opening taking Tito, still clutching his precious chicken, and Juan on a turbulent ride through another tunnel. This tunnel opened into a huge cavern. The last thing Tito remembers is seeing Juan's head hit the wall and his buddy's body bouncing around like a rubber ball.

Juan was the first to wake up. "Why didn't I get a miner's helmet?" His head entombed two champion fighting roosters fighting each other to the death. Each razor sharp claw was shredding his brain like his grandmother's cheese shredder. His brain was on fire! Surely this pain could explain the strange vision happening in front of him. The old woman was approaching him ever so slowly because her left foot was dragging behind her. Both of her scrawny leathery arms were outstretched. He could not read her face because it was hidden in the shadows. Was she going to strangle him? The pain, oh, the horrible pain! What a merciful person she would be to help him out of his misery. Darkness began to engulf him. Would he pass over to the other side? He welcomed this strange darkness, even the quiet clucking of the chicken that was pooping all over Tito's bashed miner's helmet was comforting. He would gladly give the old women her chicken back just to be back in prison. Juan thought that Tito was the fortunate one to still be out cold or did Tito beat him to the other side?

From a very far away place Tito could faintly hear the quiet clucking of the stolen chicken. The chicken was talking to him. "Wake up my new friend." "Wake up, wake up so that we can find the gold." Tito's eyes were heavy as he fought to make them open up. Before him were three, no two fuzzy chickens. He shook his head and then looked again. Whew! There was only one beautiful chicken. “My precious, precious lucky chicken,” cooed Tito. You have saved my live and I will never let anyone call you supper! Tito gingerly sat up and wiped the poop of his miner’s helmet. He did not mind doing this one bit. It was a small price to pay because the chicken was going to be his duck that lays golden eggs. Softly he began to call out Juan’s name and all he heard was his voice bouncing off the cavern’s walls. Where is Juan? Where is his body? Suddenly Tito began to feel fear creeping into his battered body. He was alone except for his precious chicken.

A tiny bit more by SB:

“Miha,” Tito croaked to the chicken, “Do you think we lost Juan?” as he spat out some mud.

The chicken clucked.

“I’m sorry, but don’t know what you mean by that.”

The chicken pooped on his chest.

“Ahh, OK, so he may not be dead, you are saying.”

The chicken gently pecked his forehead.

“OK. So I might not need to be as scared as I am in this dark and scary cavern, right?”

The chicken pooped on his chest again.

“You know, you poop a lot even for a chicken. I should give you a name.”

The chicken pecked at the corner of his eyelid, and then crawled atop his head, clucking.

“Someday, I will name you. I may not name you ‘Princess,’ but I will name you,” said Tito, looking up. You’re kind of cute in your own way. I bet you like basketball.”

Tito’s somewhat confused and injured brain migrated into a fantasy of taking his favorite chicken to a Lakers game. He envisioned buying popcorn and cola, and letting the chicken eat and drink from both. He would buy her a miniature jersey, with ‘Jabbar’ on the back. As the swelling in his beaten brain continued, he fell fast asleep with the chicken on his head. “I just hope we don’t get caught by immigration,” he thought as he drifted off to sleep, “they would take our popcorn and sodas, and send us both back to Mexico. They might even try to convince us to vote Republican.” As serious as Tito’s brain injury was, he did not know that you should not fall asleep with one. He drifted quickly into the ether. “I love you, Batman,” were his last thoughts.

“YOU! Wake up! What do you want me to do with your friend there? He has a broken leg and maybe a concussion. Get up and tell me what I should do!” The old woman was insistent with the barely awake Tito, still fighting his brain injury and a lack of wine for several hours. “Do you want me to put him out of his misery? I can do that!” She chuckled gleefully as she held up her pick-axe. “One whack and he’s gone!” Her left eye socket was vacant, and she smelled bad.

“No. I don’t think so,” muttered Tito. He sat up and shook his head. The swelling of his brain was definitely taking a toll. “Can’t we just renew his membership and continue with his benefits? I mean, he’s only been a nun for sixteen months, and he likes ponies!” Tito rolled back, half unconscious again. The chicken clucked and sat on Tito’s knee.

Contribution from Caryn:

The chicken realized that Tito was not sleeping normally and she pecked his leg with all her might. When she noticed that her pecking was not as effective as she would have liked it to be, she then started scratching his leg with her sharp claws. The ripping of his flesh instantly awoke him.

“Miha, what are you doing!” The chicken looked at him intently. She was trying to convey in her eyes that she wasn’t trying to harm him, only help him. Tito shook his head again and tried to stand up. “I’ve got to find Juan, I don’t want the La Mujer de la Cueva to get him.” He stumbled on his first attempt to stand and landed on the cavern floor with a hard thud. The chicken clucked softly as she tried to encourage him to stand. Tito then grabbed the cavern wall for support and slowly pulled himself up. He could feel his pupils dilate and shrink as they worked overtime to adjust to the dim light. Once they finally became accustomed to the darkness he stooped over to pick up his precious chicken. The chicken made a noise that was similar to purring.

“Miha, I’m going to try to gather as much courage for the both of us. I’m scared and that witch was something awful.” The memory of her breath of death still lurked in his nostrils. Her vacant eye that seemed to be all knowing still creeped him out. “I mustn’t let her whack poor Juan to death. I must find him.” As he traveled deeper in the cave in search of his dear friend, the stalactites and stalagmites created eerie images in his mind and the hollow sound of the water dripping off of them didn’t help matters either.

Meanwhile, Juan was sound asleep and dreaming about potent vino. The witch moved over to Juan to observe him closer. She knew that he was the smarter one of the two and that he was the one that she needed to keep her eye on. The witch chose to let them be for the moment. She knew the cave better than all of her previous victims and she recognized that these two men would be no different from the rest. She was pleased to see that her plan of luring them deeper into the cavern was working. She was also confident that her presence would be disregarded as an illusion from the concussions that they had received. It was all in timing, she would find the precise moment to spring the trap.

Unknown to her, they would not be easy victims. They had some luck on their side and it came in the shape of a chicken and a man named Tito.

Contribution by Dan M.:

The Legend of La Mujer de la Cueva

Long, long ago in another age of humans, there was a girl with raven black hair. She loved the water. She had no fear of the water which petrified her parents. One day she was playing at the side of the river where the water eddied and a small pond was formed. She walked up to the edge and gracefully lept up as if to fly and came gracefully down into the waters in a feet first version of a swan dive. She went down deep into the water.

A friend of the family was close to the girl and he yelled over to the father, "She can swim, yes?"

The father answered "No." but he made no move toward his daughter.

The friend immediately jumped in and pulled her from the pool. She was as unconcerned about being in the water as her father had been.

The family came back to the pool again and again. The girl was more cautious at these times and she taught herself to swim eventually. Her father's friend taught her the basic strokes whenever he could get down to the river with the family.

She swam in the river as often as she could. She always wanted to be near the water and especially in the water.

It was a hot spring, hotter than most and the girl was eagerly awaiting her return to the river water after abstaining through most of the winter. She'd just go from the rock hut sauna into an ice hole cut into the frozen river and this happened only once a week.

She couldn't wait to take long strokes and ply through the waters and submerge and swim, like flying through vapors.

She came down to the river and it was flowing fast. The heat, an early spring runoff and the river was rising. But it was calling to her and it was irresistable. Suddenly a flash of lightning shocked the darkening skies. The thunder crashed in the mountains only seconds away. Strobe lightning flashes zapped in the skies. But through all the spectral lights and thunder shocks and finally the rain, she walked as if in a trance, slowly down to her favorite pool.

Her feet touched the water of the river, then her ankles and her calves were tugged by the swirling waters, and the water was below her and above her and all around her and soon there was no land, no air only water falling, water swirling, water crashing and foaming, spraying, flying with her going faster and faster on the river surface and then sinking below the surface until there was nothing but a wet blackness all around her.

It may have been days, or weeks, maybe even months. But she awoke to a dimly lighted world. There was water all around in her new ancient world and the slippery mounds that rose out of the water. They were odd sized humps of lime of various sizes, shapes and textures and were to become the furnishings of her cavern home.

She was very cold. Cold to the bone. And she was hungry. A crazy craving hunger.

She lunged toward the water and felt something soft and slippery .....

"It must be edible," she thought briefly as she jammed it into her mouth and started to chew . ...

on her own eyeball. . . knocked out in the torrent of water on stone.

That was her first taste of human flesh and although she lived on fish and worms and the odd salamander that managed to stray into her abode. The taste for human flesh became a deep crave, a fierce hunger and Tito and Juan had now stumbled into her lair. Not to mention the chicken.

Contribution by Sue:

Juan woke up in a room filled with a wonderful warm glow. It was the most beautiful light that he had ever seen. This amber glow reminded him of the times he spent the night at his grandmother’s house. His pallet would be as close to the fireplace as possible but not too close that it would catch on fire. He could still remember his grandmother’s small whistling snore. This always made him giggle and fall fast asleep with sweet dreams. These memories were so much better than the nightmare he had the other night or was it nights? Those visions made him shiver even though he was toasty warm in this comfortable room. “How did he get here?” He wondered. “Where were Tito and that blasted forever clucking and pooping chicken?”

He still had a dull throbbing pain in his right temple. This pain was nothing that he could not handle. The pain in his leg was another thing. His leg seem as heavy as the huge logs that he and Tito would have to lift on to a conveyor belt that went to the sawmill. The logs would then be cut into lumber in order to build the warden’s new mansion on the hill. How he hated the warden. He was mean and cruel. He would starve the inmates and pocket the money meant for their food for the building of his mansion. He would not let the prisoners’ loved ones visit unless they had something of value to give him. Juan spat on the ground to show his hatred of this man. Juan’s quick movement made the hurting leg go into horrible spasms. These spasms interrupted his hateful thoughts of the warden and made him concentrate on his leg.

His leg was in a carefully homemade cast and beside the bed were some homemade crutches. The room appeared to be small but clean and cosy. “How could this have happen?” “Did the old woman do this?” Juan’s intuition told him that she did not. She did not appear to be a good woman. His gut told him that she was not his friend. “Who helped him?” He continued to ponder all kinds of questions.

Suddenly his nose told him that there was food nearby. His eyes fell on a huge bowl of stew on the table by the small bed that he lay on. The stew was still piping hot. “Who was this kind person or persons?” He felt the presence of someone in the room but could not see past the golden light. He felt an incredible evil spirit before he passed out, but this room had a feeling of overwhelming love; like his grandmother’s love. He had such hope that he and Tito and would make it out of this dreadful nightmare. He was not so sure of that chicken. “Humm, I wonder if the stew is chicken?” His nerves made him begin to laugh hysterically.

Contribution by Nadi:

That other stuff was hogwash, this is

The Real Legend of La Mujer de la Cuerva

It’s true, she was a beautiful little girl with raven hair who loved the water. She loved it and lived in it as soon as the weather turned warm. She swam and played with the tiny fishes at the river’s edge, sunning briefly in the sand and then back into the luscious waters. She would make sand castles that pulled the water in and around forming moats and estuaries. She stayed by the river all day and when it got dark her mother would call for her again and again to come home. She lingered later and later. One night, in a fury, her mother came running toward the water. She came to take her home. The mother’s anger burned so hot that when she saw her daughter floating on her back in the river. She reached in and snatched her by the hair and dragged her out of the water, kicking and crying. The little girl shrieked and begged her mother to let go of her hair and then she would walk with her. “Please,” she said, “just let go of my hair and I’ll walk with you.”

The mother loosened her grip a little and the girl ran back to the river crying and swimming as fast as she could into the strong currents of the river. She looked back to see her mother screaming her name in anger from the beach. She knew she could never return. She swam and cried as the moon came out and the rains started.

Some people think she drowned that night but that’s not what happened.

Her tears melted with the rain and the river in the moonlight and she became what she yearned to become. She became a water spirit.

The years went by, the ages. Time was fleeting for her. There was so much to see in the river that no one else had seen. She saw the life cycle of small fishes that no one but her even knew existed. She eventually was even able to see other water spirits in the rivers and once she flowed with the river into the ocean. The massive ocean spirits scared her and she swam back to her river once again.

She saw him sitting on the bank of the river under a pear tree that grew wild at the river’s edge. He was young and very pleasing to look at. It had been so long since she had paid attention to humans. She had been so busy in the river, seeking and learning, memorizing every facet of river life. But he became a fascination to her, almost an addiction. She tried to busy herself with other things but kept returning to that little pond by the pear tree. Too look at him was not enough, she had to reach out and touch him.

She waited for him to come into her world. She didn’t have to wait long.

He sat at the bank again, this time it was at dusk. He was getting ready to swim but kept looking away from the waters and toward a house that was up the hillside a little way off. She decided to reach out of the water and touch him. . . but just as her hand came out of the water to grasp his ankle, he ran back toward the hill and yelled something. The sound hurt her ears, so she slipt back into the cool blue green just as the moon rose above an obscuring cloud.

A cool light shone all around and even from the shallows she could now see two figures! They were moving toward the river. They were talking and laughing and holding each other and she hated them for it. How could he abandon the river and her for another? An ordinary land dwelling human. How could he know what he missed? How could he destroy her dreams, her longings?

So this was his plan. A moonlight swim with his girl. How simplistic. How trite.

She became very still and the water surface became smooth and was a mirror with the wafer moon glowing above and below. The sight of the river and the moon and the perfect reflection made the girl stop in her tracks. She grabbed the boy and whispered something to him and they kissed. It was all so contrived, so primitive, so sickening. Then they walked into the water slowly while holding hands.

They didn’t notice a wind but the river started to churn around them. They swam and splashed each other , swimming away and then back. The boy grabbed his girl and they embraced arms and legs in the water. She pushed away from him and he swam away from her only to turn back and see her submerge with a splash. He swam toward her and yelled her name. He looked around and then dove below the surface. She wasn’t there. He surfaced for air and took some deep gulps so he could dive deeper and scan the area by vision and touch.

He was deep in the water and could see nothing. He felt the pebbles and sand on the river bottom. He spun in the water and looked behind him. Had something sparkled or shown in the water. Maybe it was a glint of light from a fish reflecting the moonlight as it did a quick turn.

He looked back and almost gasped at what he saw. A woman with raven black hair dressed in flowing, glowing white garments. She spun slowly, gracefully in the water. The material moved in a hypnotic spiral as she circled before him, ethereal, a mirage. He shot up out of the water for air and came back down as quickly. He moved closer to the apparition and was transfixed by her beauty and motion but then as he moved closer he could see the dim outline of something behind her. Something very still. It was his fiancé. He swam toward her and reached down to pick her up but a very strong, very cold hand grasped his arm and held him tight.

He looked back frantically as he tried to wriggle and squirm out of her grasp. She was glowing with moonlight. It seemed that the glow came from within her. She smiled bewitchingly. He tore her hand from his arm and her nails dug into his arm and his blood started to leak and plume into the water. He grabbed his fiancé and pushed up hard from the river bottom straight to the surface.

He kicked and pulled with one arm until he got her to the little beach. She coughed and water gushed out her mouth as he kneeled over her.

As quick as a snake, her arm reached out of the water and snatched him back in. His blood was in her now. She had smelled it and absorbed it and let it seep into her very essence. She knew so much about him from that and she would have him. .. . but he struggled, he was angry. No tears flowed. The sky was not crying and the age of such things magical happening was long gone. He struggled and lashed out at her. Her smile turned to a snarl, her teeth were transformed into daggers and her bony claw-like hands were locked onto his arms. He could

not release himself from her vice grip this time.

And then he was dead.

That’s when the feeding began.

That’s the real legend. The real story. The truth of what happened that day told by my great grandmother. She was there. It was her fiancé who died that horrible death. She plied the waters of the river every moonlit night. Looking for the glowing white light that came from below the surface. She saw it once and chased it into a deep part of the river and stabbed at it with a spear.

She thought she hit something but it was so dark that she couldn’t tell for sure. That was the last time she saw it.

In her old age she began to hear stories of a watery cave with a witch. By then she was too old to investigate. She told her daughter who told her daughter who told me. I will keep on looking for this phantom as my mother did before me.

Nadi Lennocm

[Editorial comment: We're getting a torrent of good stuff here! Keep it coming, please!]

A small bit by SB:

Juan woke up after a short time, cackling to himself. He struggled to his feet with the help of the homemade crutches and hobbled toward the stew. The scent of the food was deep and rich; the light of the room glowed warmly, his cast was heavy on his leg. He was still weak and delirious, but he was hungry. He paused for a moment and listened. There was only the faint sound of water dripping off the cavern walls. There was no sound of a chicken or a Tito.

"TITO!" he said in a loud whisper, "Are you there?"

There was no answer. The smell of the food distracted him for a moment from the search for his friend. He moved closer to the pot of stew, finding the shallow bowls next to it, and a ladle.

"I hope this isn't poisoned," he thought to himself, "because if it is, I will surely eat my fill and die." He considered that thought for a moment and realized that it might be better than working, although he had never really done that. Carefully balancing himself on his crutches, he served himself up a large bowl of the fragrant, piping hot stew. He hobbled back to his cot and took the spoon that was beside his bed. He watched the steam rise from the bowl.

"Mmm. Smells good," he thought, "I just wish I could find Tito to enjoy some of this."

Behind the golden light came a shuffling noise. The sound grew closer and Juan strained to look into the light to see what might be making the noise. He sat his bowl on the small wooden table beside the cot and peered into the light. A small human figure was approaching, but he could not tell if it was man or woman, child or adult. He sat further back on the cot and reached for his crutch and grabbed it tightly. His injured leg was throbbing, and he knew he could not defend himself well, if it became necessary.

"WHO ARE YOU!?" he shouted. "What do you want of me? I am nothing but a poor farmer with an injured leg!" Juan had never farmed, but he did have an injured leg, so the lie was morally acceptable.

The shuffling figure continued toward him, the golden light silhouetting it against the cavern walls.

Contribution from Anonymous:

Just then, in strode Yul Brynner, Steve McQueen, Horst Buchholz, Charles Bronson, Robert Vaughn, Brad Dexter and James Coburn.

"Have you seen Calvera around here?" said Brynner, standing with his legs apart in a manly way and looking tough in his black outfit. Nearby, Coburn shifted slightly and leaned against the cavern wall, tilting his hat over his eyes.

"Um, no," said Juan. "I think you're in the wrong story. This is the one about Tito and me and the chicken and La Mujer de la Cueva. I think you're looking for Eli Wallach and some bandits. I think you took a wrong turn somewhere."

Brynner turned toward the golden light.

"Anyone else feel that way?" he said.

"You get out of our story, you! And take these other six thugs with you!!" said the one-eyed toothless old woman as she ran toward Brynner. "We had a perfectly nice story going on until you showed up with your horses and cameramen. Get out of here! Next thing you know, Akira Kurosawa will show up with a bunch of samurai! Now GET OUT!"

Brynner turned toward the six gunslingers. "Come on, men. Let's get out of here. Let these people fend for themselves." He looked particularly stoic at that moment.

With that, the seven men rode off into the sunset, or rather, they climbed out of the cave, leading their horses and cameramen through the darkness. They were followed closely by Elmer Bernstein, who was humming softly to himself.