Sally's Soldiers

There’s a girl that crosses the forbidden sidewalk every other day. Granted, no sidewalks in town are “forbidden”, but the road this girl traveled leads to nowhere.

My café, Steven’s Greens, is a botanical café that was open for less than a year. It’s on the edges of town where very little people attempt to stay. This was intentional since my town was prone to tourists. As a town housing more than a dozen haunted locations, this main road entering and exiting the town seemed to be the best place to put my new dwelling. Although rather quiet, I get a plethora of customers every weekend. The packed state is enough to keep the doors open.

Thankfully, I make enough for my staff, so all I need to do is sit and structure menus and think of new menu options. Recently, I’ve spent several months sitting at the small table nearest to the front window. I saw the same girl, a girl with pale skin and long link hair, and she’s adorned with black clothes and dangling jewelry. Most townsfolk wear jeans, blazers, suits, or baggy clothes, nothing too outlandish or eyepopping. The town is filled with folks ranging from 40+, and the youngsters are either children of homebodies or they’re tourists that I’ve never seen again. This young girl, ranging from 16 – 19, was the anomaly that peaked my intrigue.

One day, I asked my staff about her. “Have you seen this pink haired girl? What do you know about her?”

Chef: “Nope never heard of her.”

Waitress 1: “Ain’t seen someone like that around? High school kid maybe?”

Waitress 2: “I haven’t seen anyone of the sort. Possibly a newbie? A tourist?”

My third waitress, a little more traveled than the previous three, gave me the most details. “Yeah, that’s Salma Bienez’s girl, Sally. Salma passed away from leukemia last year. Since then, her little girl dropped out of school, and she disappears and reappears every so often. The little thing is like a ghost now.”

I’m still new here, but I’d never heard of such a woman. Since then, I’ve eavesdropped on customers when I heard certain keywords: pink haired, little girl, Salma, or Sally. Nothing came up until a tourist came in with dark pink hair. Waitress 3 commented on her hair. The tourist smiled, “I wanted to match the legend of the town. ‘The Traveling Ghost Girl’. It sounds so cool!”

On my day off, I did some digging into the tale and realized this was a new rumor started by the town mayor to spike tourism. As much as this was great for business, I was slightly frustrated knowing the sight of this pink haired girl might diminish. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case.

One night, on Hallow’s Eve, I closed my doors late to accommodate the late-night crowd. Doors closed at midnight and my staff, and I didn’t exit until 1am. “Good night, Steven,” Waitress 1 waved. I thanked everyone for their hard work while locking the door and turning on security. In less than a minute, I was alone on the sidewalk. October’s chill bit my cheeks and exposed fingers.

Across the street, I saw floating pink. The girl was there, throwing one leg in front of the other as she sped walked down the opposite side of the sidewalk. Her eyes, a dark color from my line of sight, skimmed over me. She held her coat collar close to her face and briskly ignored my presence.

Logic told me to head home. This wasn’t my child, and following a young girl at night would lead me to a jail cell. Losing everything because of curiosity didn’t sit well with me. Yet, curiosity won, and my legs slowly brought me down the street.

The girl crossed the town line. Down the road, a thick forest of mean trees welcomed mystery and potential danger. Tourists always complained about how creepy getting into the town was.

“The trees are too thick.”

“I nearly fell into a ravine!”

“The roads are too narrow.”

“The forest is too dark at night. It’s not convenient.”

Any buildings or structures within the forest were over a century old. Developers far and wide never found any use in revamping aged buildings when the townsfolk abandoned them many decades ago.

The girl journeyed into the woods, made a right then disappeared through the thick trees. Thankfully, my keen eyesight glimpsed at her hair, and that allowed me to follow behind. My parents, may they rest in peace, would laugh at me. A 20-year-old man following a teenager into the woods, essentially stalking, was not the pinnacle of good breeding. I’d ask God for forgiveness later.

In the distance, a lone building sat in the center of a collection of well-placed trees. The trees are thick and large, slightly bent on an incline, as if they were avoiding this place all together. Based on the building’s small shape, wooden double doors, aged white paneling, and the two windows sitting on either side of the structure, along with the lone Christian cross at the top, the girl was going towards an old church. If she wanted to pray, the one in town was much bigger and it was open 24/7.

I hid behind a tree as the girl peered over her shoulder. Then, she went inside. The moment she closed the door, light shined from the windows. Voices of men and women bounced off the walls and echoed outside. A harsh breeze hit my back, almost ushering me towards the building.

One step then two. My boots crunched against the dead leaves. Something in my gut bubbled, slowly simmering to a toxic boil. I needed to leave. No sane man would follow a young girl into a foreign building. Even if she isn’t safe, again, this wasn’t my child. If this girl was Sally Beinez, then she could stay that way. Being at home, warm and safe in my home, should be what mattered.

Sweat slid down my temple and down my neck as I neared the building. The clanking of glasses and pouring of liquids caught me off guard. The voice boomed and cheered, and several bottles or something banged on hard tables, maybe wooden.

I wasn’t allowed here, yet here I was.

One step then two. I ascended the stairs. One of the wooden double doors was cracked. My eyes betrayed me. They peered inside to see…

No. Certainly not. There were floating bones. The banging persisted, this time increasing in ferocity and fervor. What in God’s name…?

The girl’s laugher cheered through the collection of tones. Through the door, I saw her at a bar at the far end of the room. My eyes widened. I couldn’t be seeing this!

Floating candles. Rotating bones. The strong scent of ale, licorice, and burning wood. Heat pressed onto my cheeks as my head pushed into the crack. The girl spoke, but her language wasn’t English. Absurd. This is absurd!

Without doubt, I pushed the door open. Fully exposed, the collection of individuals stared at me.

Skeleton people looked back at me. Mugs of ale sat on an assortment of tables. A long bar at the far end of the room housed tall skeletons dressed in moss eaten soldier’s uniforms. All skeletons wore clothes ranging from peasant skirts of 1800s to the well-dressed colonials and commanders of history’s past. A roaring fireplace sat on the left side. Outside, I didn’t see a single chimney.

The girl sat on a stool near the left side of the long bar. Tall skeleton soldiers surrounded her, almost caging her inside of their protective wall. Her cheeks are flushed pink. She squinted at me then hiccupped.

From the front table, one of the skeletons in outstretched rags rose his head. His midsection stuck out, as if he had a large beer gut. “Aye, Sally!” He had a strong Scottish accent. “Friend of yers?”

Sally spun on her butt then plopped off the tall stool. The soldier to her left threw his arm in front of her. He viewed her without eyes. From this distance, and based on the lone stare at her, he was protecting her. Sally warmly placed her fleshy hand atop his boney one. On the soldier’s left ring finger was a single silver band.

She sauntered towards me as the soldiers and company watched. Only her heavy boots clocking on the creaking hardwood floors bounced into the air. Sally was without her coat now, wearing a scantily leather outfit with mesh sleeves, solid black stockings, and mesh that exposed her hips. Several silver necklaces hung low on her neck, and matching earrings dangled from her small ears. Sally Was small, stunning for a young woman, but her intense aura pushed my body back every step she took towards me.

The same breeze that pushed me towards the church continued to push me inside, which negated against Sally’s presence pushing me back. Stuck in an unfamiliar energetic battle, I stood with wobbling legs and sweat pooling around my neck.

Sally finally stopped an inch from me. Her eyes, a piercing purple blue, scanned my face, chest, then legs and feet. “Hmm.” Her face, a little bloodshot, was watery, and her cheeks were still a light shade of pink. Her lips pursed. The soldiers at the back of the room stood to attention. Four of them with the same suits, a royal navy blue with colorful tassels representing their importance, shimmered against the white candles floating aimlessly throughout the room. None of the candles came close to the unnaturally tall ceiling.

Sally’s skinny fingers rose to my neck. I jumped like a scared cat yet remained in place. This made Sally chuckle.

Upon her left hand were four silver rings, each one different from the other. One was banded in red, another slashed with strings of purple, another was a plain silver ring, and the last, on her pinky, had a shimmering stain of iridescent white.

I’m not sure what compelled me, but I had enough courage to ask, “Are you Sally Beinez?”

The entire room jumped to attention. Every single skeleton suddenly had a weapon in their hand. Whether it was bottles, forks, daggers, or swords, all eyeless souls stared at me.

Suddenly, her amused smile dropped to a displeasured frown.

Sally stretched out her left arm, presenting her palm to the soldiers. The protective one was the first to move. He unsheathed his sword as he approached. Unlike the rest of him, his blade shimmered proudly in the candle’s light, revealing its newly sharpened terror. The soldier stepped onto Sally’s hand. Without turning from me, she grabbed the man’s jacket then cuddled up to him. “He displeases me,” she admitted.

“No friend of yours then, sire?” One of the female skeletons says.

Sire? Sire!

Before I knew it, the remaining skeleton soldiers were at Sally’s side. Compelled, I looked at their hands. Each had one of the matching rings that coated Sally’s left hand. They’re…no…

Sally’s knowingly amused smirk returns. “You’re inquisitive, aren’t you?” She chuckled. “You found out my secret.”

Four blades instantaneously point to my exposed next. The soldiers’ swords pressed on, the edges tickling my scared skin.

Sally narrowed her eyes and cuddled into her soldier more. “You’ll keep this between us, won’t you?” She brought her finger to her plush lips. “Shhh.”

At that moment, I could move.

I dashed out of that entryway. I never looked back. Never mind that building, that girl, or anything outside of this town. Years of repentance wouldn’t, couldn’t, save me from what I witnessed that very night. Hell was on earth. It had to be. Why else, how else, could I have seen something like that?

After that event, I spent months with God, praying almost five times a day, asking for forgiveness for anything harmful or sinful I might have done. I didn’t deserve his good graces. Deep down, I hoped he’d never submit me to such a trial ever again.

Sally crossed the sidewalk across my café. She’d view me specifically. Even when I stopped sitting near the front window, I felt her eyes on me, I remembered her soldiers threatening me, and worst of all, I felt the pull to return to that dwelling of nightmares. I could never look back.