Arthur Elwood and the Charmwood Banshee

Charmwood Forest.  The people who lived near the old forest were of three minds on the issue. Some didn’t believe any of the old stories concerning the woods. They thought it all hogwash and best forgotten. Others, of a more mercenary mind, didn’t believe the stories, but sought to benefit from them, encouraging tourists to believe them to help profit the village. But there were others still, mostly the very old and the quite young who took a different opinion. They believed the stories, and treated the forest with due deference. According to them, Charmwood Forest was so named because it had been placed under an enchantment some time long past. Those who tarried too long under its leaves would likely find themselves enchanted. But what one particularly had to be wary of were the wisps. Will-o-the-wisps were small creatures who carried lanterns. They would lead lost travellers deep into the forest so they would become lost. Then, they would put out their lanterns and kill and eat the lost travelers. Arthur Elwood before his dreams began would certainly have categorized himself in the first camp. He believed these stories hogwash and best forgotten. But now, here he was, preparing in the midst of a snow storm to seek out a woman he had seen in his dreams.

It was dark. The snow covered the ground and was still falling. The wind caused the snowflakes to flit about. If Arthur Elwood hadn’t been so tired and the air so cold, he might have thought it beautiful. Instead, he trudged onward, head down, hat pulled down tightly. Somewhere nearby a bird cawed. Arthur looked for the source. A large, black bird made a stark contrast on the snow covered trees. “Is that a crow?” said Arthur to himself. Before he could decide the bird opened its beak again. Instead of a caw, the bird spoke. “Sidhe” it shrieked. “Sidhe, Sidhe! Ban Sidhe.” The voice was unearthly, Arthur thought. He began to shake as the raven continued to shriek, “Sidhe! Ban Sidhe!” Now quite frightened, Arthur continued to walk toward the forest. Suddenly, an otherworldly wail rang above the winds. “She’s here,” Arthur whispered to himself. The ravens had scared him, after all, in his dreams they carried off and dropped him to his doom. Yet still was he compelled to search for the wailing woman.

The wind wailed too and this made it difficult at fist to discover from which direction the woman’s voice rang. Yet once he entered the woods completely and could no longer see the road, the wind died down. For a brief moment there was no noise. As he looked around himself he realized he was surrounded by ravens. He was seized with terror, thinking they would make off with him before he found the wailing woman, as they had always done in his dreams. Instead, almost as if as one, the ravens flew off and both the wind and the wailing returned. He stayed frozen in terror for only a moment longer and then, hearing the woman, ran off in the direction of her screams.

The trees were dense and their roots stuck out in many places. There was not much snow upon the forest floor, but when he occasionally ran into a tree, Arthur Elwood found himself hit with a sudden shock of snow. As he neared the wailing he could discern words amidst the screams. “Help me!” the woman screamed, “Help me, Arthur!” This spurred him on. If he ever doubted, even for a moment, that he ought to be here searching for the woman of his dreams, it was gone now. She had called him by name. He knew he must find her or die trying.

While the wind had died down and the snow was not reaching the forest floor, Arthur was still struggling to make his way through the woods. Tree roots would trip him as he trudged, and the cold bit right through his winter coat. He felt as though the wind blew right to his heart. Suddenly, before him appeared a light, as it sometimes did in his dreams. He headed toward the light. As he focused on the light he found it more difficult to hear the woman’s wailing. He trudged on for an hour when he realized he was heading away from the sound of the screaming. Too late he realized that not only had he gone in the wrong direction, but he was now stuck in the mud of a bog.

Behind him, Arthur heard a wicked laugh.