I had not visited the Ghost Town, plenty enough cow boys died in this vapid desert around Tombstone to make the vast flat land a grave in and of itself. But considering I was in Tuscon for business unrelated to ghosts, ghosts were the very last thing on my mind... until night fell. As I lay in a bed, staring up into darkness, I heard a faint metallic clicking.
click click click click click click
I held my breath and listened closely. The subtle ring of metal with each click made a very specific sound. Spurs, sharp metal spurs that quietly rang after clicking with each foot step.
click click click click click click
It was easier to hear now as the foot steps drew nearer. I gripped my bed sheets and my eyes searched the darkened windows, waiting for the shadow of a fallen man to eclipse my view of the sky. My lungs were burning as I held my breath. A chilled breeze penetrated the hot desert air.
click click click click click click
The clicking became faint, and it left. I breathed a sigh of relief and I forced myself to envision a local cowboy that was simply passing through on his way to a motel after a night of pensive drinking. We were safe, there was no reason to fear the locals.
But after some minutes of silence, I heard that sound again...
click click click click click click
I whispered to my friend, "Do you hear that?" He did not say a word and I shakily admitted, "I think there is the ghost of a cow boy walking around. I hear the spurs, but I cannot see anyone."
My friend assured sleepily, "If there is a ghost it won't want anything to do with us. We have not done anything to upset him." This was easy for him to say. How did he know I had not done anything to upset the ghost?
It had been a long road that I traveled to Tuscon upon, and I had been required to stop and relieve myself on the side of the road at least once. Pray tell, what if I had unknowingly urinated on this un-known cowboy's final resting place?
click click click click click click
I fall silent, the foot steps were drawing near again. I hold my breath and wait.
click click click click click click
The same as they had the previous time, the foot steps fade into silence as the apparition passes by. I'm quite certain I cannot endure an entire night of this pacing spirit. Even if I do not always subscribe to believing in Ghosts, the sound was audible and immediate, making it very hard to ignore.
click click click click click click
When I heard the clicking once more I could no longer be still. I slid out of bed and began crawling across the floor in search of a sufficient place to hide. I blindly pawed my way around the room, head-butting into a chair and dresser as I turned in circles, perhaps in a clever attempt to hide from the approaching spirit.
I turned around after head-butting the wall and continued crawling, becoming more frantic as the clicking spurs grew louder. Finally I stopped when I realized with dread that the spurs were clicking over my head.
It didn't take me long to consider the absurdity of this. A vengeful cow-boy ghost with spurs was one matter, but a floating cow-boy ghost with spurs was another matter entirely. I cautiously looked up and found that overhead there were two metal tassels gently swinging under the fan. Their rotations brought them together and further apart intermittently causing varying volumes of clicks that followed a consistent pattern like a metronome.
To be certain, I stood up and took the tassels in hand and I was relieved to hear the clicking stop. I pulled on them both several times, turning the ceiling light and fan on and off in rapid repetition as I mused over how silly I had been.
"Knight! Go to bed!" My friend abruptly interrupted by investigation of the ceiling light. I quickly turned the light off again and returned to my bed with the satisfaction that I had survived yet another almost ghost encounter.
Even better, my only injuries from this almost encounter was some minor bruising from head-butting furniture in the dark during my attempts to hide.
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