The Stranger

My mom had always been a beautiful woman. When we’d go to town for errands, Dad would shout across the pasture, “Make sure I’m still your father when y’all get home!” Not only was she a beautiful woman, but she cared for others in ways that I hadn’t seen before. She knew all the homeless in town by name, since she would drop off meals twice a week for them (her homemade fried okra was especially well known).

She’s not that way anymore. The creature that she has become is without any humanity. Unfeeling. Uncaring. Full of anger at anyone who happens to cross her frightful path.

We owned a ranch over by San Antonio. It was somewhat out of the way of most traveling to the city, but we’d occasionally have visitors who were weary from the long road behind them. Not all were welcome. One person in particular comes to my mind.

It was evening, right as the sun was setting – “the golden hour” where Mom, Dad, and I would finish up our remaining chores for the day. Mine was going to put feed out for our farm animals. As I was walking to the end of our pasture, towards the feed troughs, I noticed that there wasn’t any noise. No chirping, no cicada humming, nothing – dead silent. The cows weren’t anywhere to be found. In the distance I could see a figure dressed in black, hunched down over something – I couldn’t make it out.

Getting closer, I felt the air go cool and the hairs on my neck stand straight up. I should have left. I shouldn’t have gone forward. The figure was dressed in an all-black robe. In one hand he held the largest book I’ve seen in my life, in the other, a dagger. He was hunched over one of our donkeys – its throat was slit and the ground was crimson. Gasping I yelled something at him – I couldn’t tell you what. The stranger looked up, grinning from ear to ear, and giggled out, “Are you ready?” My eyes darted back down to our donkey and the pit in my stomach dropped. Its hooves were cut off, strewn around the body in odd patterns – and on its belly, the worst part, the man had carved symbols into the belly. I would have sworn on my life that they were pulsing red, with an unearthly glow. As my eyes moved back to the man, he had put the dagger away and was now reading from the book. I couldn’t understand the tongue he was speaking in, but before I knew it, I was on the ground, unmoving, not being able to say anything.

“Hope you like what happens next, young one.” He spoke with excitement.

He dragged my body across the pasture, back towards home. My father saw me first, but before he could say anything, the man pointed and my dad fell. I wish he died right there, realizing now what was to come. My mom was next to fall.

He now had us where he wanted. He placed my mom in the family room, while Dad and I were brought up to the attic. We heard her screams. I couldn’t do anything. Useless.

Then the attic began the heat up – more so than the Texas weather. Smoke started to pour up, I couldn’t cough, my lungs were filled with the black smoke of my home burning. I couldn’t breathe.

That’s how we died – suffocation. It didn’t end there though – as I felt myself start to pass into oblivion, a cold hand wrapped around me, pulling me away, pulling my spirit back into the world so that I could watch what my mom would become.

The fire that burned my home down was started by setting Mom on fire – her face went first, transforming its pristine glow into an elongated, cracked, black mask. Her hands and feet were next, with the stranger taking delight in fusing her fingers together with the fire.

He made it so we never really died, my mom especially – he wanted his creation to remain in this plane forever. By the end of it, she no longer looked beautiful. Instead, she resembled the donkey that was dead on our land.

From that day forward I watch over my mom as she scurries in the woods near San Antonio, waiting for someone unlucky to cross her path.

Author's Note: This was a very loose telling of the origins of the Donkey Lady. She’s normally associated with a specific bridge on the outskirts of San Antonio.

The Donkey Lady is known to have a disfigured face and stumps for hands and feet because of burns that had happened to her in the past. The differing viewpoints over her deal with if she is a ghost or something else. Her backstory is also very disputed – with the majority coming to the consensus that a farmer murdered his children, then set the house on fire with his wife inside of it. I went a different route with it, trying to add in some occult type of reasoning. Having someone be as evil and powerful to make ghosts exist, while murdering an entire family just to create a monster was an interesting idea for me, so I thought I would try it out with this story.

The Donkey Lady is known to haunt the roads near San Antonio, chasing those who don’t know to avoid that area. If you park there for too long (or honk your horn), she’ll come for you, unrelenting in her chase.

Sources:

• Weird Texas
• Texas Hill County Website