animals on the road. There was a coyote and some possums. Nothing frightened me about these creatures. The fright came as I approached the farm. Let me not jump ahead of myself, though. There is still more to tell, prior to that moment.
I took along two others with me. There was a young man named Ezekiel and a man named Wesley. These two made a promise to keep our journey quiet. I was already becoming unpopular by asking too many questions of the local population. They insisted on taking guns, though I confess, I do not know why. What good would guns do against a ghost?
Wesley shot one of the possums we saw. He told us it would be a good meal, should we require food during the night. He gutted and cleaned the creature in the back of the wagon as we continued on. The act of gutting it made me feel rather ill for a time, but I soon recovered.
As we approached the fields before the farm, I doubted we would see anything. How often do these legends turn out to be true? Let me assure you, it is true. There is no doubt in my mind, anymore. I was about to slow the wagon when a noise in the trees startled the horses. They took off running, pulling the wagon over the rough road. Wesley almost tumbled out of the bed as the wagon bounced along.
It was right after the horses bolted that the farm came into view. I tried to slow them but they were hell-bent to run. Could it be a mere coincidence that something caused the beasts to take off at a dead run? Could there have been something else at work? I do not know the answer for sure. I only know that the pace was now far beyond my control as we were almost passed the farm.
That was when I saw her!
It was not entirely frightening, at first. It appeared to be a woman, running with two pails of water. My only worry was that we would not be able to stop in time. I feared we would run her down. My fear turned out to be the grim reality but there was something far worse to fear. This is the thing that will haunt me until the day I pass from this world, however soon that may be.
She dropped the pails, turning to face us with a look of fear and horror upon her face. Her hands went to her chin as we closed the gap between us. At that moment, I saw her eyes, or should I say lack thereof. They were hollow. I do not mean they were a sad sort of hollow. I mean they were empty sockets, no eyes at all. Her face took on the look of a skull. The flesh melted away, leaving only a grim skull beneath. Her long black hair remained, though it seemed to flare out in the sudden wind.
I was frozen in fear, no longer trying to control the horses. I realized this was no human form, crossing the road with water. This was Katherine Asgaard! This was the ghost of a woman dead for two decades! The legends I had heard should have prepared me for this, but they didn’t. Nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.
The woman’s jaw dropped open. I say jaw and not mouth because there were no lips, there was no skin. As I mentioned, there was only skull and hair. She let out a shrill scream as her tongue flopped over the side of her jaw. It was not a human scream I heard. This was something otherworldly. It was a sound I would imagine a banshee would make, if they existed. The sound sent waves of fear through my every nerve ending.
As we overtook her, the wagon struck her. It was not just a graze, we hit her dead on. The sound of the impact was sickening. I could hear the bones breaking. She was crushed beneath the wheels.
It was at this point, after the apparent demise of the apparition, that I managed to bring the horses to a stop. I am unsure how I managed to gather my thoughts, but I did. I looked back but there was no corpse in sight. The ghost woman who had been mangled beneath the left side wagon wheels was nowhere to be seen. I wiped the sweat from my eyes and glanced around the area again. There was nothing there.
Wesley and I left the wagon to search the area. Ezekiel refused to leave the false safety he felt behind the buckboard. Our search came up empty. She was no longer there. It was as though she was never there to begin with. We abandoned the search and returned to town to retire for the evening. In truth, our nerves were quite shaken.
My friend, do not think my mind unstable, for I am still quite in possession of my senses. I have seen the apparition of this woman in the dark corners since arriving back to town. She seems to be here with me at this very moment. I am quite sure my eyes are not playing tricks on me.
Now, you will recall I wrote of another piece to this legend. I told you that the men who had shared this experience on the past have disappeared. In fact, they were no longer seen a short while after they claim to have laid eyes and wagon wheel upon her. For this reason I have begun to fear my own demise. I do not wish to depart this world in some mysterious manner. I do not wish to be dragged to the very bowels of Hell by the ghost of Katherine Asgaard. I find myself wondering if the others saw her in the shadows before their disappearances, just as I do now.
I shall end this letter here. Rest assured I will send another should I survive this day. If you do not hear from me further, you might as well not come looking for me. Chances are, I would have already joined those who have passed beyond this world and into the next.
Be well, my brother.
Your friend in this world and the next,
Oswald De’Augusta
I realized my hands were trembling as I finished the letter. After securing it into the journal, I poured myself a glass of brandy to calm my nerves.
I did not receive a letter the next day, or the day after that. In fact, it has been two weeks and I have heard nothing of his condition. I have wrestled with myself until I arrived at a single conclusion: I must travel upstate and attempt to locate my friend. I am leaving this journal safely in the charge of another. I shall attempt to retrace Oswald’s every step in an effort to find him. I intend to continue this journal upon my return to keep record of his whereabouts.
If you read this journal and find nothing beyond this point, you will know I was unsuccessful in my quest. Chances are, I could be dead.
Edward Aagaard
About The Author
David Blackthorn is a horror author from Central Arizona. His first published short story appeared in Horror Society Stories, Volume One, a story called Dead Ringers. It was followed soon after by The Apparition, another short story which was published in an anthology in the United Kingdom titled Tales of Mystery, Suspense and Terror. Catalyst of Evil and Sacrifice are his first full length novels, which are now available in digital and paperback. He is currently working on new short stories, as well as his next novel.
David Blackthorn can be followed at:
https://davidblackthorn.wix.com/davidblackthorn
www.facebook.com/davidblackthornauthor
@DavidBlackthorn
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