Pale Faced Lightning
By Charles M. Skinner in 1896
Nestled approximately twenty miles from the vibrant capital of Arizona, a formidable landmark rises against the desert sky: Superstition Mountain. This imposing geological feature is not merely a collection of rock and earth; it is a canvas upon which centuries of traditions, myths, and fears have been painted. The very name, Superstition Mountain, hints at the aura of mystery that clings to its slopes, an atmosphere woven from the threads of indigenous lore and pioneer anxieties.
Two centuries ago, a unique community found refuge in the shadow of this imposing peak. These were no ordinary settlers; they were a tribe of Pueblo dwarfs, diminutive in stature, standing only about four feet tall. Despite their size, they were a formidable group, numbering a thousand strong, their collective strength residing not only in their numbers but also in their cleverness and resourcefulness. These "little people," as they were sometimes called, were cultivators of the land, coaxing life from the arid soil and tending to their flocks with diligent care. They established settlements that stretched along their migratory routes, creating a network of small, interconnected communities. Like many intelligent societies, they valued peace and harmony, understanding that cooperation was essential for survival in the harsh environment.
The dwarfs possessed a unique form of protection, one that transcended mere physical strength. Their incantations, steeped in the traditions of sun-worship, held a power that resonated with the natural world, creating an invisible shield around their communities. This mystical defense proved more effective than any display of weaponry in deterring the attacks of the Apache, fierce warriors known for their predatory raids. The Apache, wary of the unknown forces at play, hesitated to challenge the dwarfs, allowing the "little people" to thrive in relative peace.
After residing near Superstition Mountain for a period of five years, the peaceful existence of the dwarfs was threatened by the approach of a new adversary. Word reached them that the Zuni tribe was advancing from the south, their intentions unknown, but their presence signaling a potential conflict. Faced with this impending threat, the dwarfs meticulously prepared for defense. Understanding their vulnerability, they strategically concealed their valuable sheep in hidden valleys, ensuring the survival of their livestock. Provisions, essential tools, and weaponry were carefully transported up the slopes of the mountain, transforming it into a natural fortress. Along the edges of cliffs that commanded the passes, they constructed formidable piles of stone, ready to be unleashed upon any invading force.
Overseeing these crucial defensive preparations was a woman of extraordinary presence. Her most striking feature was her pale face, a stark contrast to the sun-kissed complexions of the native inhabitants. Her fair hair, unusual in this region, cascaded around her shoulders, framing a face of commanding beauty. This woman, revered by the dwarfs, held a position of great influence within their society. Some whispered that she was the Helen of a New-World Troy, an unintentional catalyst for the impending conflict. The Zuni, it was said, claimed her as their own, asserting that they had rescued her from the waters of the rising sun. They further alleged that she had fled to the dwarfs only to avoid an arranged marriage with their chief, a union she deemed undesirable. Whether these claims were true or merely fabricated, the presence of this pale-faced woman added another layer of intrigue to the unfolding drama surrounding Pale Faced Lightning.
Driven by their desire to reclaim the woman, the Zuni warriors marched relentlessly toward Superstition Mountain. Initially, they encountered only faint resistance, easily overcoming the sparse defenses along their path. Then, on a clear afternoon, the Zuni amassed on a slope of the mountain, their numbers reaching approximately seven hundred warriors. From neighboring hills, the Apache observed the impending battle, fully expecting the swift defeat of the "little men." They watched as the Zuni, confident in their superior numbers, nimbly climbed toward the stone fort that crowned the slope, brandishing clubs and stone spears, their boasts echoing through the air, a display of bravado common among warriors, regardless of their skin color.
At a pool of water located just outside the walls of the fort, the pale woman stood, radiating an aura of queenly composure. Her white robe billowed in the wind, her brown hair dancing around her face. Both her own people and the advancing foe gazed upon her with a mixture of awe and admiration. As the Zuni warriors approached within a hundred yards, their arms outstretched, eager to seize their prize, she executed a swift and decisive action. Stooping down, she picked up an earthen jar and emptied its contents into the pool of water. Then, with a graceful movement, she retreated back behind the protective walls of the fort.
In an instant, the tranquil scene was transformed into a spectacle of elemental fury. Sparks and balls of fire erupted from crevices in the rocks, leaping toward the advancing Zuni warriors. As these fiery projectiles made contact with the native warriors, many fell dead, their bodies consumed by the unexpected flames. Others, blinded by the sudden onslaught, lost their footing and plunged blindly over the cliffs, their bodies dashed to pieces on the rocks below. The Pale Faced Lightning had unleashed her power.
Within a matter of minutes, the once-formidable Zuni force was in full retreat, their bravado replaced by terror and confusion. Remarkably, not a single arrow had been shot, not a single spear had been thrown. The pale woman, with her mysterious powers, had single-handedly routed the enemy. The Apache, witnessing this display of pyrotechnic power, were stricken with terror, their initial expectation of an easy victory replaced by a deep-seated fear of the dwarfs and their enigmatic queen.
Despite their fear, the Apache, driven by greed and a desire for conquest, eventually overcame their terror and, after a couple of years, attempted to sack the fort for their own gain. However, the pale woman once again repelled them, employing the same devastating tactics she had used against the Zuni, inflicting even greater slaughter upon the attackers. From that day forward, the dwarfs were never harmed again. However, their time in the region was drawing to a close. As suddenly as they had arrived, they vanished, retreating to a secret recess within the mountains, a hidden sanctuary where Pale Faced Lightning continued to rule over them.
According to some Apache accounts, the spirit of the pale woman, the Pale Faced Lightning, still haunts a cave on Superstition Mountain. They believe that her body vanished in a blaze of fire within this cave, transforming it into a sacred site. This cave, known as the Cave of the Spirit Mother, is said to be located on the south side of Salt River. Over time, stories have emerged of unusual discoveries within the cave, including a skeleton and remnants of cotton robes, intricately ornamented and possessing a silky texture. Furthermore, it is said that electrical phenomena are frequently observed on the mountain, perhaps due to the presence of iron, copper, salt, and copperas in close proximity, creating natural batteries that discharge with otherworldly energy. The legend of the Pale Faced Lightning endures.
© Kathy Alexander/Legends of America, updated September 2022.
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 but is not verbatim, as some editing has occurred.
Also See:
Apache Myths & Legends
The Ark On Superstition Mountain
Legends, Ghosts, Myths & Mysteries
Native American Legends & Tales