Wó see ts'inii

There is a creature out here in the southwestern part of North America that classifies, in many ways, as one of the ugliest things to crawl from the earth. It is know by different names, the two most recognized being Jerusalem Crickets and Potato Bugs, though they have no connection at all to Jerusalem being native to this little region of the world and there is no commonality to tubers that don't grow of natural course here. They are ugly ass little things, the size of crickets but they are not crickets. They look somewhat like the cross between an ant and a cricket, as if two of those critters got really drunk then got really freaky and had to explain to their families the perversion born from that union.

They are harmless, these grotesque things, beyond a reluctant and non-venomous bite though legends sift through their obscure nature. For example, the singing that these bugs do not do is an omen of ill luck. In truth, the only ill luck one might have with one of these is being freaked out by it's incredibly ugly nature, stepping back in disgust onto a mislaid rake and getting thwonked by the handle in the backside. Myth serves its purposes though and a low resonance of dread is associated with these by those few who see them and are weirded out when they do. They do not rise from the earth often and in the whole of my life, I have seen but two in the flesh... or exoskeleton.

Speaking of the earth, such is the basis of other names that these delightful little critters are known by. In northern Mexico, they are called Niño de la Tierra, (Child of the Earth) and that right there there is badassery all the way. I mean, that's a truly cool name for a creature that does stalks beneath the earth. Even better are the names the Navajo give to this little thing. Because of the face this bug wears, and I do implore you to check one out, most such names identify that face in description. Wó see ts'inii is the best of these terms I've found, at least to my satisfaction, and the meaning of "skull-faced bug" is very apt.

"Child of the Earth" was begun as "A Memory of Flame" consumed itself beneath my keys. I had known this story was necessary and it was one of three that were knocking loosely around my mind. By this point, I had a good idea when the town of Baird's Holler was going to go ghost and die. Those three ideas were:
A: The mine being shut down
B: A Mine Inspector from Prescott and his journal recovered by his associate
C: A report from a Sergeant in the 10th Cavalry reporting on the disaster at Fort Whipple outside Prescott.

These were the three basic ideas I had at the time. I was woefully unaware of what was about to happen though, so woefully unaware.

"Child of the Earth" is the story of Yesil Batur, a Turkish American who turned of age just as the Civil War ended. It is he who noticed the word their guide, the "yeller rabbit", shouted as he fled the day they came to this valley. It was his comment of that word sounding like the name of a Turkish Sultan of antiquity (seriously, how these two words came together was just a stroke of something!). With the fads of the 1800s of naming things from Classic Antiquity (Atlanta, Memphis, etc...), it was Yesil who was charged by his fellows for giving things interesting names, such as one of the tributaries being named the Sultana or the two creeks high on the mountain Idrar and Diski (he was getting annoyed at this point).

Twenty-three years after the finding of gold upon this creek, Yesil was no longer the happy-go-lucky joker he was when the Mortenson Party first struck it rich. From a hint dropped in "I'll Always Be With You, Boys", I knew a few rather dark things about Yesil but I did not know where this story was going when I started it. As the story progressed and I found myself deeper and deeper into a nightmare I knew I could not begin to fit in this short of a space, the scope beyond this Tale began to slowly emerge. By the time I was done and all that was left was a little mastication, I had a rough outline for what I wanted to do... but only a very rough outline.

This was an incredibly fun story to write. It set a solid foundation for where the town was in its last days and how the mine was being operated under the managerial eye of the only two Sultans who remained vested in the operations of the mine. Only one other Sultan, Colonel William Nesmith, remained in Baird's Holler by that time and he had long divested his interests in any of the operations. Between Yesil and Thomas Lundmeir, the other remaining Sultan, they had turned the mine into something rather dark. The Chinese laborers who occupied the third worker's barracks were locked in at night, an abuse of a system called "Credit Tickets" which had been deemed "slavery" in 1878 and made illegal... but when has that ever stopped a slaver, especially in a valley that the Law forgets.

That though is not the focus here in this story. I'll write that one a year later. This is the story of Yesil Batur pissed off and heading into the mine to see why the Mexican crew (the third crew is made of Whites and Blacks so far down on their luck they'll work this dreaded mine) had stopped working. Suspicious of a strike, he takes an armed contingent with him to set things right, not at all accepting the stories that the workers broke into a cave of magnificent beauty. He is also putting this show of force forth because, well, no one could find him for at least a half hour as they were trying to alert him of the discovery. He, well, liked opium and the outhouse usually occupied him for a while after his first cup of coffee.

Things got out of hand. They really did. Part of the fun of writing this was there was more action than dread, something that I had not been dominant with before. Hell, this one felt "pulpy" to write and just fun. Where it left me though was with an opening to something much larger. The town needed to die and I had those three ideas...
A: Give reason to shut the mine hard
B: Explain why the Mine Inspector went violently insane
C: Explain why the town was burned to the ground and the survivors escorted from the valley

There was something big here, but that was two stories for another time. Now it is about roughly 13 short stories and a novel planned, two chapters of which I've pecked out and I've added six more of those shorts already. Again though, this is a discussion for another day as this little story, coming in at 8,684 words, told what needed to be told concerning Yesil.

"Child of the Earth" was published by Nightmare Press in 2019, my 5th story sold. The title of the anthology is "Animal Uprising". As I will state over and again, support these small presses for they are often the first outlet from which new authors, those like I writing in the wilderness, may find homes. As mentioned before, I make nothing from any transactions made here. I've already been compensated. I just want ya'll to read my stories and this is where "Child of the Earth" now lies. When the whole of this concept is complete, the five days in which the town of Baird's Holler died, then I plan on having two products available... the novel (to be titled "Circle of Midnight Black"... for reasons) and the accompanying shorts gathered. The fun part about this is the novel will follow Yesil's partner for those five days while each of those shorts will fill the spaces between chapters.

Nightmare Press will be, very shortly, releasing another anthology with another of my stories in it, a real humdinger with serious pulp and another super fun Tale... lots of action. Keep dialed in on this channel, kids... things are going to get really weird.