Banshee Of The Bad Lands
By Charles M. Skinner
The Bad Lands of Dakota, once described as "Hell, with the fires out," are a testament to the raw, untamed spirit of the American West. This region, a sprawling expanse sculpted from an ancient seabed, presents a landscape of stark beauty and brooding mystery. The very name, Bad Lands, speaks to the challenging nature of the terrain, a place where survival is a constant negotiation with the elements. The Banshee Of The Bad Lands lurks in the desolate beauty.
Imagine a panorama of clay strata, meticulously carved by the relentless forces of frost and flood. These natural architects have crafted a surreal world of pagodas, pyramids, and terraced cities, rising from the earth in fantastical formations. Labyrinthine canyons snake through this landscape, winding among peaks that, though breathtaking in their brilliance, exude an aura of bleakness and savage oppression. This is the domain of the Banshee Of The Bad Lands.
Life persists even in this harsh environment. Game animals navigate the castellated hills, while rattlesnakes, masters of adaptation, bask on the edges of craters above burning coal seams. Historically, the Bad Lands have also served as a refuge for wild men, those who made a desperate stand against the inexorable march of civilization. Amidst this rugged tapestry of nature and human history, a chilling legend takes root – the tale of a banshee. Some say she is the spirit of a white woman, a victim of jealousy at the hands of a Native American. Others claim she is the ghost of an Indian woman, unjustly slain. Regardless of her origin, the Banshee Of The Bad Lands haunts this desolate space, her cries capable of freezing the blood of even the most seasoned frontiersman.
The favored haunt of the Banshee Of The Bad Lands is near a butte known as "Watch Dog." It is said that under the pale glow of the moon, when the landscape takes on an otherworldly quality and the mournful calls of wolves and owls stir uneasy feelings, her spectral form can be seen on a hill about a mile south of the butte. Her long hair streams in the wind, her arms move in strange, sorrowful gestures.
The legend continues that when war parties, wagon trains of emigrants, lone cowboys, or even intrepid hunters – anyone passing through this territory, regardless of their intent – approach the haunted butte at night, the very rocks begin to glow with an eerie phosphorescence. Then, the banshee appears, sweeping toward them like a wraith. She seems to yearn to speak, or perhaps to be asked a question that no one has dared to utter. She stands beside travelers in an attitude of desperate appeal. But if anyone is foolish enough to ask her what she wants, she throws her arms skyward and emits a shriek so piercing, so filled with anguish, that it echoes through the desolate gulches for a mile. Then, she vanishes, only to reappear an instant later on her hilltop, wringing her hands in eternal torment. The Banshee Of The Bad Lands is a permanent feature.
Such is the power of this legend that even the hardiest creatures avoid the haunted butte. Cattle refuse to graze near it, and cowboys give it a wide berth, for the word that could solve the mystery of the banshee, that could finally bring peace to her troubled spirit, remains unspoken. The story of the Banshee Of The Bad Lands is a cautionary tale that lingers in the air.
Adding to the eerie atmosphere of the Bad Lands is another spectral entity – an unfleshed skeleton. This skeletal figure wanders the desolate landscape of ash and clay, drawn to the sound of music. If he hears it emanating from a nearby camp, he will sit just outside the door, nodding in time to the rhythm. Should a violin be left within his reach, he will eagerly seize it and play throughout the night.
The music produced by this skeletal musician is unlike anything heard in the mortal world. At times, it is as soft and gentle as the stir of wind through the sagebrush. At other times, it is as harsh as the cry of a wolf or as startling as the rattle of a snake. As the first light of dawn begins to paint the eastern sky, the music gradually fades, until it ceases altogether with the full arrival of daylight.
But the legend carries a dire warning: no one who listens to this music should ever follow the skeleton if he moves away. To do so is to invite certain doom. He will lead the unwary into rocky pitfalls, from which there is no escape. And even more terrifying, the music itself will intoxicate the listener, driving them to madness and ultimately charming their soul from their body.
The Bad Lands, therefore, are not merely a place of geological wonder and historical significance. They are a place steeped in legend, a place where the boundaries between the natural and the supernatural blur. The Banshee Of The Bad Lands and the skeletal musician stand as enduring symbols of the region’s mystery and danger, reminding all who venture there that some secrets are best left undisturbed. The Banshee Of The Bad Lands is a story.
Compiled and edited by Kathy Alexander/Legends of America, updated April 2024.
About the Author: Charles M. Skinner (1852-1907) authored the complete nine-volume set of Myths and Legends of Our Own Land in 1896. This tale is excerpted from these excellent works, which are now in the public domain.
Also See:
Legends, Ghosts, Myths & Mysteries