Weirder Than Weird (14 page)

man waved the knife inches from my face in a menacing wa
y, taking delight in my nervous reaction, then reached down and cut the rope. I breathed a sigh of relief and rubbed at my sore wrists. ‘Pick up!’ he barked once again. I did as he wanted.

     “We slowly made our way up the dusty steps and every so often I would hear the squeal of a terrified rat being kicked over the side into darkness, followed by a muffled thud. Along our way, we passed by numerous barred rooms. I couldn’t see inside because of the poor lighting, but I could sense something none the less. I shuddered at the thought of what evil things might lay within those darkened confines.

     “I was struggling now with my burden and much relieved when we finally reached the top of the steps. The door to the room was pushed open, making a most unnerving sound as it moved upon its rusty hinges.

     “
We now entered the upper-most part of the tower. The room contained four iron-barred cells that looked to me like old-time western jail cells. Two were on one side of the room while the others were directly opposite. The room itself was rank smelling like the rest of the building and draped in the same ubiquitous spider webbing. I was thrust into one of the cells and told to stand against the opposite wall. I heard the switchblade click open again and the twine from the hay bale was cut.

     “‘This is for your bed,’ said the one holding the torch. ‘You may be here a long time, Senor, so be very careful about using up your supplies too quickly.’ With that, the man nodded to his partner, who in turn took off a small back-pack that he was carrying and dropped it to the floor.

     “
They started to leave, but at that moment, I couldn’t contain myself. Panic overwhelmed me and I lunged forward. I made a desperate attempt to slip past them and run for my life, but they must have expected this because I saw a flash of the same wooden stick the man hit me with earlier and I was knocked senseless once again. Coming to, a short time later, I could hear the door at the bottom of the tower slam shut and I realized that I was now all alone in that filthy dark tomb.

*        *        *        *

    
““What in God’s name have I gotten myself into?” I said, as I rubbed my poor aching head. I walked over to the cell door and gave it a good shaking. It was sturdy enough. They had put a chain through the bars and padlocked it secure. I became aware that I was casting a long shadow on the stone floor and I turned to see where the light was coming from. On the far wall was a good sized square window open to the outside with four iron bars evenly spaced within. Dull bands of moon-light filtered through the bars in ghostly strands. I started to walk over, when to my complete surprise, I heard a voice.

     “‘Hello. Hello, Senor. Welcome to Diablo’s Tower. It is so nice to finally have company once again.’

     “I jumped and was in a momentary state of shock, remaining silent f
or the longest time. The voice called out again and I realized that a person must be on the other side of the wall next to me.

     “‘I say, Senor. Will you not give conversation with such a lonely creature as myself?’

     “After gathering my wits about me, I was comforted in knowing that I had a cellmate to share my gloomy experience. I yelled out, ‘Hello. Yes. I am an American, my name is Paul, Paul Wilson.’

   
“‘Well now, Paul, Paul Wilson. My name is Carlos and it‘s my pleasure to meet you. What brings you here to lovely Diablo Tower, Senor Wilson?’

      “I rela
yed my story to him in full detail and he listened patiently.

    
“‘Yes,’ he finally said. ‘Your story is one that is very common, Senor, but you should not despair, for I think that being an American carries great weight and the likelihood of your release is much enhanced because of it.’

     “For some reason
, his words didn’t comfort me, but I was eager to learn of his own story.

    
“‘So tell me, Carlos,’ I said, ‘what is it that brought you here? Trespassing? Words of sedition maybe?’

    
“‘No, Senor, murder.’

     “I was caught off guard. He said the word with such ease, as if to think it a mere indiscretion. I sta
rted to feel a bit uneasy and I think he sensed it.

    
“‘You see, Senor, Wilson, I had always worked for a particular well–to-do family in San Pueblo. This family owned a great deal of land and was considered very powerful in our community. My own family lived in a small shack on the outskirts of one of their plantations and every day I would work the fields in exchange for our living quarters as well as a small allowance of food. I came home from the fields early one day carrying my pitch fork and from a distance I heard my wife screaming. My heart nearly leapt from my chest as I ran to the door. I kicked it open and saw the man I worked for tearing at my poor wife’s clothing.  It was all over quickly. They tell me that I was in such a fit of rage that I thrust the pitchfork all the way through the man’s neck and he expired right there on our dirt floor. I’m sure that I probably did such a thing, but the truth is, I don’t remember any part of killing him.’

     “His tale chilled my very bones and I really didn’t know how to respond. I felt awkward and thought that I should change the subject, so I asked how long he had been incarcerated within the tower. There was much hesitation before he answered.

     
“‘I couldn’t say, Senor. All I know is that I’ve been chained up against this wall for ages.’ He seemed to give much consideration to what he said next. ‘Time… time seems to no longer have any hold on me. I know this will sound strange to your ears, but sometimes I seem to drift away from my cell.  I really can’t account for where I’ve been, or for that matter, how long I‘ve been there.’ 

    “I thought his response, although sad, was perfectly within the bounds
of what one might expect from someone who has suffered the kind of trauma he had. Only what he said next made me wonder about his sanity.

   
“‘Perhaps, word will get back to your illustrious president and he will use his considerable influence to deliver you, Senor. I hear that Mr. Lincoln is a very great and compassionate man in your country. Is that not so?’

     “I was taken aback. How was I to react to those words? Yes, it is a great distance from the U.S. to Bolivia and news does travel slowly
, but he was speaking of a President who had not been alive for over 65 years!

     “
I could only respond by agreeing with Carlos. I walked over to the window, shaking my head. The moon was waxing full that night and even in spite of the obstruction from the metal bars, I could see the whole panorama of what lay outside the tower. As I looked out, I felt a brief moment of vertigo, for the tower itself was dangerously teetering on the edge of a sheer precipice. Directly below were jagged rock walls on either side that transitioned quickly into a deep chasm, gradually disappearing into hazy darkness. Although I could see the occasional small shrub or plant sprouting here and there I was amazed when, to my right, I saw an enormous tree not thirty yards away. It was oddly beautiful and seemed to shimmer in the moonlight.  It looked to be growing right out of the rock itself and I cursed myself for not having my camera with me. The tree was undoubtedly very ancient; its long grey roots groped their way all along the face of the rock wall, crossing over each other like snakes in a basket. Just then, something curious caught my eye. In the top portion of the tree there appeared to be some kind of nest--yet, not a normal nest. Huge limbs were bowed over and covered with a thick casing of some type of silver-looking filament. I thought this, looked more like a cocoon than anything else. On one end of it was an opening or entrance, which could simply be described as a large black hole. I suddenly turned away from the window because a strange and creepy feeling came over me, as though I were being watched from somewhere within the blackness of that very opening.  Tomorrow would be here quick enough, and I knew I could get a better look at the thing in the light of day, so I retired to my bed.

     “I heard no more from Carlos that night, in spite of my wanting to talk more. I was about to drift off when I was jolted awake after hearing a number of screams coming from somewhere in the lower recesses of the tower. They were agonizing screams, as if someone was having the skin pulled away from their very bones. The hair on my arms and the back of my neck stood on end as I listened to the terrifying ejaculations of those tortured souls. I held my hands tightly against my ears, trying to block out the horror that tried to seep its way into my brain. The noise went on for hours and I thought I was on the verge of losing my mind when, all of a sudden, it stopped. I was both relieved and exhausted. I took in a deep breath and settled back down into my bed of hay but my nerves were on edge.  Needless to say, I slept very uneasy the rest of that night.

*       *        *        *

     “The next morning, I awoke to a sore head, but to my pleasant surprise, the gloom that pervaded my cell the night before appeared to have lessened. This, I suppose, had to do with the warm sunlight that filtered its wholesome rays through my window. The room was actually brightened to an almost cheeriness and I could hear Carlos singing quietly to himself.

     “‘Good morning, Carlos!’ I yelled out.

    
“‘Good morning, Senor Wilson,’ came his reply. ‘I hope your first night’s stay in Diablo’s Tower wasn’t too uncomfortable.’

     
“‘Oh, it was a delight,’ I said sarcastically. ‘Just like a stay in any four star hotel.’

    
“He laughed.

     “I was eager to ask him about the screams I heard during the night
, and I did so.

     
“‘Oh, those.’ he said, nonchalantly. ‘You will soon come to accept them, Senor; they are part of the tower itself. You see, these walls have a very dark memory hidden within them. Diablo’s Tower has been used over the centuries by many bad men. Evil men. Much torture and abuse has been conducted here and that pain and anger still lingers, much like a nightmare that one can never rid himself of.’

    “‘Just what I needed,’ I thought to myself. ‘On top of everything else, I had to be held captive in a haunted tower.’

     “I suddenly felt hungry for the first time in a long while. I reached down and picked up the small back- pack the men had left behind. There was jug of water inside as well as a number of brown tortillas wrapped in green palm leaves. I started munching on one, then thought of Carlos. I offered to share my meager rations with him, but to my surprise, he declined. He told me that it would be virtually impossible for him to receive the nourishment since he was chained ever so tightly against the wall, and besides, he no longer felt the pangs of hunger that haunted him for so long in the beginning.

     “At hearing this, I was in fear for my new friend’s life. Losing one’s desire to eat is a sure sign of giving up. All that day, I did my best to raise his spirits and I assured him that upon my release, I would do everything in my power to secure his also. He thanked me in a voice choked with emotion and, for whatever reason, I didn’t hear from him again until the next day.

*        *        *        *

     “Since I could do nothing else, a large portion of my day was spent staring out my window. I became obsessed with watching the old tree, for I was convinced that there was an unholy quality to it. Now, in the light of day, I could see more clearly and I noticed a number of white objects strewn just below the tree, scattered and lodged behind jutting rocks and boulders. I squinted but was unable to discern exactly their true nature. The whole of the day passed slowly by, and once again I found myself facing another night of nerve wracking screams from the tower’s ghosts. I did, however, fare a little better this night, knowing what I was up against, but after the racket had ended I was again drawn to the window because of a different sound coming from outside.

     “
The moon was shining in its full radiance once again and I could see very clearly. When I looked toward the tree, much to my horror, I saw a thing backing its way out of the nest. I looked on with utter dread and fascination as the creature turned and flung what appeared to be a body over the side. I could see, for only a brief few moments, the arms and legs of whatever it was flailing lifelessly in the air as it dropped from the tree and landed with a thud on a large boulder far down below. My eyes turned back to the creature and got a very good look at what I can only describe as some type of demon. I have seen its form before, but it took a few moments to register in my mind. Finally I understood. It was a Praying Mantis! Yes! That’s it, a Praying Mantis! But the thing, in a disgusting way, was also part human. I could see that its upper body, torso, and arms were like a powerfully built man but the rest of its body was bug-like. Its head and face resembled a man but with one exception… it contained two bulbous yellow eyes, which seemed to phosphoresce in the moonlight giving it a most diabolical appearance.