Umber (47.23 — Oleander’s Story)
August 29, 2012 § 2 Comments
“Then Siobhan and our father heard wailing. It was mournful at first, but the closer it got, the angrier it sounded. Papa cried, “don’t look at it, Siobhan,” but she looked at the blue lights anyway. And what to you think she saw?”
“I hope it was a rescue party,” Mama said.
“Was it somebody with a pistol?” I asked.
“No, indeed. It was much worse. It was a banshee, as tall as a post office, with transparent skin that flapped in the wind, and eyes like burning blue furnaces. It smelled like a storm on the ocean in November, and wore a coat of seaweed that trailed along behind it as it floated toward them in the air.”
Transfixed, I asked, “What did they do?”