Accursed Donkey and the Black Rider

I found a note from Enchanteur when I woke up from my nap after my night visit to the
Island of the Ancestors.  She said that the next place I was to visit was the House of the Serpents and Blind Springs. I was to make certain I still had my little bag she had given me, and to go outside of town, where a donkey would be waiting for me.

 

I packed my things up again, and made sure my little bag of magical items was nice and safe. Then I went downstairs for a bite to eat before I left.

 

It was already late afternoon by the time I walked out of town to find my donkey. She found me first. I had been hoping I might see George again, but no such luck. Instead I got Shirley.

 

I was walking down a small path wondering where my donkey could be when something came out of the underbrush and rammed into the back of me. I landed on my front- fortunately not my face, but it was muddy out and I got thoroughly mucky.  “Sorry, sorry! I mis-timed that! Didn’t mean to knock you over! Oh dear!”

 

Something goosed me in the part of me that was sticking up and I grunted, “Oof! Get off of me!”

The nose moved away and I struggled to my feet, my backpack throwing me off balance.

I turned around and saw a donkey standing there, contrite. “You must be my donkey,” I sighed.

 

“Shirley. I’m Shirley and I’m so sorry I’m late. I was supposed to be back in that clearing waiting and I was thinking and just lost track of time. Oh dear. I am SO sorry.”

 

I stopped the stream of apologies, “I’ll live. And what clearing are you talking about? I haven’t passed any clearings!” I was trying to scrape some of the mud off my front as I talked.

 

“Why, the clearing back there…. Uh oh. It’s just around the next curve. Oh my. I did it again, didn’t I?” Her head drooped and she looked very dejected. I had to admit I was a little worried. She was supposed to know the way to the House of  the Serpents and couldn’t even find the clearing where she was supposed to meet me. This might be a problem.

 

Still, I hated to see her so sad, so I tried to cheer her up. That turned out to be a mistake.

 

 

“Hey, Shirley, don’t stress. Everyone gets a little off the path every now and then. It’s fine. And look, I got most of the mud off my front. Let’s just get going, okay? We got a really late start today, and I want to make some distance before we stop for the night. Come on, let’s go.”

 

She cheered up immediately, braying and dancing happily. A donkey doing a happy dance is something to behold- that is, until she steps on your foot. Now I was hopping around, too, but I was holding my foot and yelling.

 

Shirley, of course, was very contrite. I stopped her before she could get going on the apologies again, and climbed on her back. We set off down the trail. I am happy to say that she only smacked my head on one really big overhanging branch on the first part of the trail, and only ran me into thorn bushes twice. She kept up a running apology as we went.

 

“Oops, watch that branch. Didn’t mean to let that branch slap back against you like that. Oh- look out- I slipped on that rock. Sorry, I’ll try not to get quite so close to those sticker bushes next time.”  And so on. Shirley really meant well. She really tried. She was really sweet. Her intentions were good. And you know what they say about good intentions, and where the path they pave leads to.

 

Anyway, after an hour or so of this, I decided to get off and walk for a little bit. It seemed safer. We traveled like this for a while, and then the path got very narrow and rocky.  In fact, it seemed to be disappearing, and it was starting to get dark. I didn’t like this combination. I liked it even less when Shirley said, “I think I should have taken a left back at the last branch in the trail.”

 

“Are we lost?” I asked.

 

“Not really, no. I mean, we aren’t where we’re supposed to be, but I know where we went wrong, and if we just go back a little way on this trail, we can fix it.”  We turned around. I was getting tired, so I climbed on Shirley’s back, and we went back down this narrow, stony game track in the growing dark, towards where she thought the mistake had been made.

 

We found the fork in the trail and tried the other branch. Unfortunately, this one didn’t seem to be any better. In fact, it was worse. We were soon going single file, first Shirley and then me, on a narrow path on the side of a hill that seemed to be turning into a mountain. This trail, like the other one, was disappearing. We made it past the bad section, though, just as the last of the light from the sky faded and it got really dark. I climbed back on Shirley and looked around as I rode. We were now in a dark forest. This wasn’t a nice tame forest, either. It was the kind of forest that has eyes.

 

The eyes turned out to be real ones. I was just getting ready to dismount from Shirley’s back when hoof beats sounded behind me. I couldn’t imagine where they were coming from, since the trail was so bad, but then they were on us, and I was being yanked from Shirley’s back and hauled onto my tummy over the front of a saddle. All I could see was a big black horse and the flapping black cloak of the rider. I could hear poor Shirley braying in distress as the rider pounded away with me.

 

I was very uncomfortable, very frightened, and more than a little bit mad. The mad was what showed. I was yelling and squirming and flailing around. The rider said nothing and didn’t react to anything I did or said. The horse just galloped on through the darkness.

 

I was starting to feel really ill, being on my tummy on a jouncing horse. Just about the time I thought I couldn’t take anymore, the rider reined the horse in. I grabbed at the rider’s cloak for something to hold on to just as he pushed me off. I toppled off- my legs wouldn’t hold me- and pulled the cloak off with me. I was rolling on the ground, tangled in the cloak when I heard the rider pound off again. I got my face clear in time to see a silhouette of the rider against the moon; I couldn’t see well but I wasn’t sure I saw a head on the rider. As I finished untangling myself, I realized that this fit with where I was. I was in a graveyard.

 

I could see leaning headstones all around me, with weeds tall around them. There seemed to be a crumbling mausoleum a short distance away, and even sitting down I could see that some of the older graves were sunken in. As I swiveled around, I realized there was a headstone right behind me, and I was sitting on a grave.

 

This gave me goosebumps all over. I struggled untangle myself from the black cloak and get myself off of that grave. I got to my feet and jumped off the grave just in time, because the ground where I had been began to heave and buckle. I stood there frozen with terror as I watched the grave split open and something start to emerge.

 

I found my wits and my feet at the same time, and turned to run. All the graves around me were doing the same thing, and the graveyard appeared to be endless, rolling off in all directions.

 

I ran in the first direction I turned and at least got away from the opening graves. I found a huge old tree with low hanging branches and scrambled up in it as fast as I could. That tree seemed to be the only living thing besides me in the entire cemetery, and it was also the only thing that wasn’t moving. The graveyard below me was churning with graves opening up. The ones that weren’t tearing open had wisps of white coming out of them.

 

Ghosts and zombies and here I was stuck in a tree. Life just didn’t get any better than this. Shirley must have rubbed her bad luck off on me.

 

However, bad luck or not, I would be very glad to see her about now. I clung to the rough bark and wrapped the cloak tighter around me. As I shifted, I knocked the bag from Enchanteur loose and it bounced loudly off branches all the way to the ground. Of all the things to drop, it would be the one thing I couldn’t forget about or do without.  The noise had alerted some of the zombies down below that I was hiding in the tree and some of them were shambling over to deal with the intruder in their home. Some of the ghosts were floating up towards me. I decided to follow the bag down, grab it quickly, and then run for it again. At least the zombies didn’t seem to move very fast.

 

I slid down the tree, scraping my legs raw as I did. Just before I reached the ground, a zombie shuffled past, caught his foot on the bag and shambled away with it in tow. I yelled incoherently and fell the last few feet, landing on my already bruised posterior with a thud.

 The zombie was disappearing into the darkness with my bag when I heard a horrible commotion. There was a loud braying, and a lot of thumps and a few crashes. Then the zombie with the bag came flying back in my direction, head over heels. The bag came loose from his foot and flew back at me. As I grabbed it, I saw other zombies rolling this way and that with a loudly braying donkey plowing into them left and right. It was Shirley, doing what she did best- wreaking havoc – bless her heart. She bowled them over clear up to where I was standing at the base of the tree and brayed “Climb on! Let’s get out of here!”

 

I didn’t wait for a second invitation. I jumped on and we careened out of the cemetery, knocking a few more zombies flying and barreling through the cold wispy ghosts. Shirley only knocked my shins against two headstones on the way out and only tore through one thorn bush. I was impressed. As we pounded through the rusty iron gate, which caught my shirt sleeve and ripped it off my shirt, she brayed triumphantly. She didn’t stop running until we were well away from that place.

 

When she finally slowed down, gasping and wheezing, I climbed carefully off her back. I still managed to catch my foot in her harness and fall down. She was truly amazing, this donkey. “What happened and where are we and what is going on?” I asked her as I lay on the ground, dazed.

 

“Ummm, you need to get up. We need to keep moving. I’ll tell you when we find a safe place to stop,” she replied.

 

I struggled to my feet and we staggered on. We crashed through the underbrush with all the subtlety of a bulldozer. Finally we reached a small bridge over a fast moving little stream. On the far side, Shirley slowed down. “Across running water. We’ll be safe here for a while, so I can catch you up on what is going on.” She continued, muttering, “Oh, this is terrible, just terrible. It was bad enough when it was just me, now it’s people in my care, too. Oh dear, oh dear.”

 

I stopped right where I was and sat down. “Okay, Shirley, tell me what’s going on, RIGHT NOW.”

 

She sighed dramatically and said, “It’s a curse. I’ve been cursed.”

 

I waited for her to continue.

 

“You see, I got a little lost one day and was walking down the wrong trail.”

 

This I could believe.

 

“Anyway, it was the trail that the black riders use, only I didn’t know it at the time. I walked in front of one of them and tripped him.”

 

So far I could picture this perfectly.

 

“He fell off his horse and, well, he lost something. We couldn’t get it, where it fell. He was really mad at me, and he cursed me. Until he gets it back, my luck will be terrible. Everything will go wrong.” She sniffled. “I’ve tried not to believe in the curse, thinking maybe it would go away, but that hasn’t worked. I was afraid to tell anyone because I didn’t want to lose my job. And now look what’s happened. You’re hurt, we’re way off our path, and who knows what will happen next.”

 

I stopped her and asked, “Shirley, what on earth could he have lost that is so important?”

 

We both looked up at a noise on the far side of the little stream. A voice rang inside my head, “IT WAS MY HEAD!”

 

The black rider sat there on his horse, headless but still radiating contempt. “That fool donkey knocked my head out of my hands. I can’t reach it to get it back and if I’m miserable, so will she be!” was what I heard inside my head.

 

“Uh, right, Mr…?” I said

 

“Murphy.”

 

Somehow that figured.

 

“Where is this head of yours? Maybe I can help you find it? If I did that would you take the curse off poor Shirley here?” I asked.

 

“I suppose so. Be warned, though, there’s only so much that will do,” the rider replied sourly.

 

“Okay, then, let’s get going. Show me where it is.”

 

We all set off downstream. He stayed on his side of the water and we stayed on ours. Shirley and I both felt much safer like that. After about half an hour I started smelling something unpleasant. It smelled like rotten eggs. I stopped and sniffed again. “What is that smell?” I asked.

 

The rider replied, “That’s where my head is.” For a headless guy, he sounded awfully sarcastic.

 

The head had fallen into a hot sulpher spring. According to Shirley and the rider, it had gone all the way to the bottom of the pool and was lodged there under a rock. It was down quite deep. Apparently headless horsemen don’t swim, and of course donkeys don’t have any hands so the head was lost.

 

It was far too dark to see anything, but the horseman had a solution for that problem. He summoned a few will o’ the wisps from the forest and they came and hovered over the pool. I still couldn’t see, so one of them dove down into the water. It went all the way to the bottom and then I could see the skull, grinning up at me. It was down about ten feet, so I would have to dive for it.

 

I took off my boots and stepped into the water, muddy clothes and all. Fortunately, the water wasn’t too hot, even though it smelled rank. I placed my glasses on a handy rock, well back from the edge so they wouldn’t fall in too, and dove.

 

On the first try, I reached the skull and pulled on it. It was well and truly stuck, so I tugged on the rock it was under instead. This moved. I went up for air, and then dove back down again. This time the skull came loose. I swam up to the surface and held it aloft, triumphant.

 

“I got it!” I shouted. Climbing out of the water and putting my glasses back on, I went over to the rider. He reached for it, but I held it back, saying, “Not until you take the curse off of Shirley, Mr. Murphy.” He sighed, but I felt something Happen.

 

I looked at Shirley, and she nodded. I grabbed the cloak I had pulled off of him and offered it to him along with his skull.

 

Murphy took the skull, but refused the cloak. “I’ve got others, and you may need it. You’re way off course and it’s a long ride where you’re going. If the weather gets bad, you’ll want it. Remember, I said that removing the curse would only do so much.” His body turned back towards Shirley and he shuddered.

 

 “I am going back to the graveyard to see if I can persuade all the zombies and ghosts to go back to their graves. Please don’t follow me. Your help I don’t need.” Then he tucked the skull under his arm. The eyes started glowing red in the darkness, and as he rode off, I could have sworn one of them winked at me.

 

I looked at Shirley and then at the hot spring. Sulpher or not, it was hot and wet and cleaner than the mud and sticks and so forth I had been wearing most of the day. I already stank of the sulpher anyway, so I shrugged and climbed back in the water, sitting on a rock that was at a nice depth. The will o’ the wisps hung around overhead and I leaned back and relaxed.

 

“Uh, She Wolf, don’t you think we had better be going?” Shirley asked.

 

“Nope. This is the most comfortable I’ve been all day. I’m not moving until I’ve soaked out a few of these aches that I seem to have acquired.” I replied. “After that, I’m finding a comfortable pile of leaves, unrolling my bedroll and finding some food in my pack. Tomorrow morning we will be going. Not until then.”

 

Shirley sighed, and then nodded. “Okay, I guess that’ll work. I’ll go look for a pile of leaves for you.” She ambled off and I heard a crash and an ouch from the direction she went. I was beginning to see what the rider meant when he said there was only so much removing the curse would do. I heard another small thud and winced. This was definitely going to be an interesting journey.

 

Three days later, in the middle of a torrential downpour, we arrived at the House of Serpents. The woman at the door looked at me, eyes widening. My clothes were torn and I was scraped and scratched and filthy. I also stank. She wrinkled her nose. “Brimstone?” she asked. Then she looked at Shirley and nodded, saying, “Oh. I see. Let’s get you in and cleaned up. We have some special salve and a first aid kit just for people who come in with Shirley.”

 

I turned around to say good bye. Shirley was walking away toward the stables dragging a branch which was stuck in her harness. I smiled fondly. Yes, the rider was right. There was only so much that could be done.

 Posted by She Wolf