A Haunting Experience

A distant relation I know, can't be distant enough.

My home is my castle. It is so secluded that the only visitors I get are lost ones who can’t find their way out of my cul de sac. I’d made sure of my privacy. I’m at the end of a one way street with signs pointing the other way. I love it.

The knock at my door demanded attention. I couldn’t imagine what kind of emergency prompted it, but it wasn’t going away.


“Sorry. I’ve got a code,”said the stranger who looked stranger than anyone I’d ever seen before.. “I do readings.” She was fighting another sneeze. I watched as she fought it, gave in, and nearly blew my hanky I offered into another dimension. “Sorry,” she said. “For no extra charge I’m a professional location finder.”

“You obviously didn’t read the sign.” I pointed. “Private property. No salesman allowed.”

“I’m not a man. I’m Belinda The Gypsy, and I’m not here by chance. This is your fate standing before you.”

Her not being a man could have fooled me. She looked more like Attila The Hun, than a woman. Her accent was guttural and indecipherable. I wasn’t going to let her in my home. I came outside to get rid of her. My mistake.

“Hold still.” She demanded, reaching out to yank a single long strand of hair out of my head.She closed her eyes and nibbled on it. “Just what I thought.”

“Ow. That hurt.” I wished I’d bought a dog to warn people off, but people never stopped at my door. “All right, Belinda The Gypsy, let’s get this over with. How much?”

“Thick Indian hair. You won’t go bald in your old age.” Belinda spit out myhair with her next cough. “The Tukudika, or Sheep Eaters, Indigenous to Yellowstone Park.

“You got all that from munching on my hair?” I was intrigued. I’d been told by an Indian beauty salon worker that I worked with that I had Native American hair. It is long, black, thick, rich, and probably my best looking asset.

“It spoke to my tongue. Your DNA will prove you own Yellowstone Park. Pack your things. You are a direct descendant of the last chief of the tribe, whose bones are being defiled in a museum just outside of the park. We must retrieve them for proper burial. He sent me here for that reason. I am haunted by him.”

This was too much. “And if I refuse?”

“I will leave it up to him, whether he will haunt you or not, now that I have located you. Here is my card.”

I took it and offered her a wad of cash from my pocket to get rid of her. She coughed into it, shaking her head no. “He just paid me a visit. He wants to get to know you. He says you’ll need the money for a lawyer who knows how to sue the government for your land.”

Belenda the Gypsy looked at me like she was seeing a ghost. I felt a cold shiver run through me and coughed as Chief Wantana stuffed himself inside my head. My hands started moving in sign language as he began bargaining with me to get him back home where he belonged. It made my whole body twitch.

So that’s how come I’m camping out in Yellowstone park where my ancestors lived, I like my privacy. Chief Wantana agreed to leave me alone once his bones get placed in our tribe’s secret burial ground. That can’t be soon enough.