Pryor's Hill (solo)

[Dracosius]

The witch waited and plotted. A few months later, Michael turned a year old and the young family celebrated. The witch could hear the happy family from her hovel and it turned her stomach. Then an awful idea hit her. What better way to ruin a man beyond hope than for him to be the cause of his family's demise? She would not simply kill the wife. That would be easy and would allow for the man to spend the rest of his days in grief. That was not enough for the witch. He would pay quite dearly for turning her down.

It took her the better part of two weeks to collect all the things she needed for the powerful spell she needed. Once it was done though, she wasted no time. With a few words of blackest magic the spell was cast. Cackling with glee, the witch hurried to the top of the hill to watch it unfold.

As misfortune would have it, her spell happened to hit whilst Pryor was cutting wood for the fire. The moment the spell hit, his eyes went blank. He turned with ax still in hand and returned to his house.

“Are you done already, Pryor? That was quick,” Melody looked up from her place on the floor where she was playing with Michael. “Pryor? Are you feeling alright?”

“Dada!”

Michael got to his feet and toddled over to his father, arms outstretched to be picked up by his father. But his mother, wary of the odd look in her husband's eyes, hurriedly snatched him back just as Pryor swung the ax at the toddler.

“Pryor!? What's wrong with you!?”

Melody backed away, now trying to comfort a wailing Michael. The frightened child could not understand why his father would try to hit him with the ax. The house was small and try though she might, there was no escape for the young mother and her child. When it was done, the witch, watching from the doorway that Pryor had left open, muttered a few words, and Pryor came to his senses.

He shook his head and looked at the blood spattered walls and floor. Then at his hands, still gripping the ax and covered in blood. He threw it away from him hurriedly, then his gaze fell to the bodies at his feet.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!

With a bloodcurdling wail of despair, he fell to his knees, holding the lifeless bodies to his chest as he wept and whispered to them, “What have I done? Forgive me....forgive me.. oh my precious... I don't know what happened... forgive me...”

The witch strolled in, once again in her disguise as a beautiful woman. “What happened here?” she asked innocently, then cackled, “let this be a lesson to you Pryor: when a beautiful woman comes to you, never tell her no.”

Pryor did not need to look to know who stood behind him. He glanced around for his ax, his eyes red with grief and anger. Spying it, he grabbed it and strode forcefully toward the witch. “You! You did this!”

Taken aback the witch hurried to get out of his reach. “Stop! Look what you did! Do you really want another death on your hands?”

Pryor didn't answer her. He merely continued his advance, intent on destroying her. The witch, realizing her mistake ran for the edge of the hill. At its edge, she began a new spell. As soon as she finished it, she ran down the hill, still fearing for her life. At the bottom she looked back and sighed in relief. Pryor stood at the edge of the hill, beating futilely against a barrier he could not see. Her spell had trapped the enraged man on the hill. Satisfied that she was now safe, she returned to her hovel leaving Pryor to his anger and grief.

“In his grief and anger, Pryor went completely insane and died on that hill. Some say that he's still there, along with his wife and child. No one knows how Pryor died, but no one that ever goes there comes back. It's said that in his insanity, the ghost of Pryor sees everyone as the witch and kills them!”

“That's silly,” AJ said, “everyone knows that ghosts aren't real.”

“Hmph! Shows what you know! Ghosts are too real! I've seen them!” the storyteller retorted.

“Well someday, I'm going to spend the night on Pryor's Hill and prove it!”

“Yeah!” ZJ chimed in, “we'll both go.”

Siela rolled her eyes at her brothers. There was no way they were going to do anything now. They'd never find their way out of the jungle without their parents.

“Ghost stories are just that, stories,” she said firmly. “I'm going to go ask Daddy if we can go see the birds now.”

Present time…

Siela sighed as she looked up and saw Pryor’s Hill ahead of her. She had yet to catch up to her brothers. The idjits must be on the hill already. Damn it! She wished that her statement from when she was a child was true. Most of the time, ghost stories were just stories, but this one held at least some glimmer of truth. Something was on that hill, for it was true that those that tried to prove the story false always disappeared without a trace.


The top of Pryor’s Hill held only a house that was starting to fall in on itself from the many years of neglect and weather. Sections of the roof were caved in, window shutters creaked and banged against the house as the wind blew across the hilltop. The floorboards creaked as the boys cautiously walked through the remains of the home. Debris and dirt covered every inch of flat surface. The couch, once nicely upholstered, now showed signs of rot. The only footprints to be seen were their own. No animal tracks, not even rodents, could be seen. It seemed that even animals avoided this place.