Here you are.
Your return to the Attic is always appreciated. I presume you’re prepared for a new tale?
Of course. Follow me.
Which item will call to you now?
Well. The revolver you have in your hand belonged to Hattie Walker, an outlaw on the run who fled right into a nightmare. This is the story of...“The Ghost Town.”
Like always: close your eyes, open your ears, and journey back to that frightful evening.
It was August 1868 in Northern California.
I had just crossed over the Sierra Nevada mountains by horseback, on the run from the law. I was coming from Carson City, where the rest of my gang was gunned down in a shootout with the sheriff and his men. I was the only one to make it out alive, so I grabbed our loot and some provisions, then rode out of town across the border.
We had made a fortune robbing banks and stagecoaches along our journey west, but now it seemed our luck was running out. Our gang had become infamous and there were large bounties on our heads, which is how the lawmen recognized us in Nevada.
I first met the Lockwood gang at a saloon in Oklahoma City about a year before. I had escaped from jail and was heading west, where they were going too. They allowed me to join their posse since I was a skilled thief and could handle myself with a gun.
My father taught me to hunt when I was a kid, which is how I learned to shoot, and I had to get good at stealing in order to provide for myself after becoming orphaned. I was an only-child, born and raised in Mississippi, but my father was killed during the Siege of Vicksburg and my mother died of consumption soon after the war ended. I survived on my own for a little while by hunting and stealing, but was eventually caught and put in jail. I escaped during a fire and fled west in search of a new life, with nothing but my father’s Colt revolver and my horse, Nellie. And that’s exactly what I found in Oklahoma City when I joined the Lockwood gang.
They became my family. We risked our lives for each other and did what we had to do to thrive out west. We had ourselves a grand ol’ time looting, gambling, and riding through the open frontier. But now I was on my own once again, mourning the loss of my brothers and fearing my own demise, as I ran from retribution.
It had taken Nellie and me a few days to traverse the Sierra, but we finally arrived at the foothills. In the distance, I could see a small town near the river. We’d been camping out in the mountains the past few nights and were almost out of food and water, so we headed in that direction to restock and take shelter for the night.
The sun was dipping below the horizon as we rode into town, but no lamps were lit. It was a small town, consisting of one short main street, with a saloon, general store, stable, and some boarding houses. I didn’t see a single person in or around any of the buildings as I rode through.
I hopped off Nellie and strolled into the saloon to see if I could find someone and get a drink. But when I got inside, it was deserted. “Hello? Is anyone here?” But the place was silent.
Everything from the bar had been taken, except for some empty whiskey bottles. I headed back out to Nellie and gazed at the few structures around me. It appeared to be a boom town, erected quickly for miners who struck gold in the area a couple decades before. But once the gold supply ran out, they all packed up and left to prospect somewhere else. It was hauntingly quiet, but would make a sensible place to hide out for the night.
I could bunk comfortably in a boarding house and Nellie could stay in the stable. I had no luck finding food, but there was at least a working pump outside. While getting water, I looked out and saw a cabin along the river, where the miners must have panned for gold.
Before retiring for the night, we took a quick ride over that way to check if there were any provisions left inside. The sun was completely gone now, but the moon shone just brightly enough to see in the dark.
When we got to the river, there were remnants of the miners’ efforts. Some pans and sluice boxes sat rusting on the banks, and inside the cabin were a few broken pickaxes and shovels. But that was all.
Having not found anything useful, I climbed onto Nellie and was about to ride back, but was startled when I gazed at a large tree behind the cabin...There was someone standing in front of it.
I quickly withdrew my revolver and pointed it at him.
“Hold it right there! Who are you?”
But he didn’t answer me. I trotted towards him with my gun still aimed.
“Try anything and you’re a dead man.”
As I got closer I realized he wasn’t standing. His feet were suspended a few inches above the ground and a taut rope extended from his neck to the tallest branch of the tree.
Nellie soon stopped and wouldn’t go any further, neighing unsettlingly. I hopped off and slowly walked toward the dead man, still holding my pistol. He was wearing a long dark coat, and from the sleeves, two lifeless bony hands dangled at his sides. Hovering off the ground were a pair of spurred black boots, and his head was hanging down with a Stetson hat on top.
I went to lift the brim so I could see his face, but suddenly, Nellie ran off.
“Nellie!” I called, then whistled after her, but she disappeared. I whistled again, waiting for the sound of her hooves trotting back, but instead I heard a noise which sent me reeling around in panic. It was someone else’s whistle coming from behind me.
When I had turned back to face the tree, the only thing I saw was an empty noose swaying from the branch...Where did the body go?
I raised my revolver in that direction and slowly scanned the area. I didn’t see him anywhere, so I creeped forward to get a better look. As I got closer to the tree, I began to circle it. But he wasn’t hiding behind. I started to turn away, but then heard a rustle from above. When I looked up, I saw those bony fingers wrapped around the branch and his dark figure perched in the tree.
In a panic, I fired a shot and he jumped down a few feet away from me. I backed up to get more distance between us and pointed my gun at him. “Don’t come any closer or I’ll—” but I stopped when he lifted his head. His face was ghostly and his eyes were grey and bestial.
I fired two shots, but whatever it was was unwounded and started walking toward me. I ran backward to get away and fired three more shots, but it was still on its feet. I fired again, but there was a click. My pistol was empty.
I quickly turned and ran as fast as I could toward the town. I could hear its jangling footsteps following me from behind.
As I got closer, I suddenly heard hooves trotting my way. “Nellie!” I called out and whistled.
But then I noticed the jangling had stopped. I looked over my shoulder to check...and there was no one behind me—
Hattie Walker vanished in that ghost town, never to be seen again; The last member of the Lockwood gang to fall. But now her spirit has been released and she is free to reunite with those who went before her.
You have continued to help the ghosts, so I shall provide you more details about the Attic if you still seek to know.
I last explained to you that my brother leaves these walls every evening, but he does not do so merely to flee this place. His nightly trips keep the Attic stocked and running. Each morning he returns with a new object...which he finds somewhere in the outside world overnight.
I can’t tell you any more than that now, so you’ll have to return and help the spirits if you wish to listen further.
The Attic will open for you again soon. We thank you for the time you’ve given us. Stay safe out there...and don’t wander through any ghost towns alone.
Thank you for listening to Alone in the Attic. Tonight's episode was written, directed, and edited by Samuel Weston Evans, with vocal performances by Haley Sliker as Hattie and Samuel Weston Evans as The Keeper.
Join us next week to hear the ghastly tale of “A Grave Encounter.” At a Maryland cemetery on All Hallow’s Eve in 1849, a disturbed writer exhumes the body of Edgar Allan Poe, three weeks after his death. Seeking to commune with his ghost and acquire macabre inspiration, he instead becomes trapped in a Poe-esque nightmare.
Find out next time...Alone in the Attic.
