The Banshee, An-Po Chen

Some say banshees are short—around three or four feet tall. Mine was tall. Some say they are terrifying creatures. Well, mine was, but she was also kind. I first saw her when I was sick in bed. I was dying of age. My banshee stood outside my bedroom window, completely still day and night. The night she walked in, the floor creaked with sounds of old wood, and the walls vibrated when she hit her head against the kitchen cabinets. She walked into my bedroom, bending down and putting her ghostly hand on mine. It was cold—really cold. She spoke no words with her mouth, but I saw her eyes, and they were beautiful. Despite the deformed face, the abnormal height—despite the terrifying appearance and hideous presence, she, as a creation of a Greater Existence, was beautiful. She communicated with me through her eyes, and I smiled at her. “Thank you.” She shrieked her terrible shriek—so high and so displeasing to the ear. She shrieked for me—she mourned for me. And off I went.

The Banshee

An-Po Chen ‘25