The Legend of Ash Swale Years ago, I was working on a research paper of pioneer churches and my research usually took me into the field, to little backwater communities that weren't on any maps. One such place was called Ash Swale. It wasn't a town, more like a cross roads, with a single gas pump and a farmers produce stand. I had done as much research as I could glean from the library and county records, so now it was time to seek out some of the locals in the area and see if anyone knew anything about the abandoned church known simply as "Church of the Angel". The produce stand was manned by a 12 year old girl, and after I bought some tomatoes and corn, directed me to an old farmhouse up the road. I drove my old car up the gravel drive and stopped under the shade of a willow, its soft branches sweeping the dust off the top. I got out and walked to the house, where I met an old woman in a rocker on the front porch. The story of the church of Ash Swale was not what I expected. It started out as most of the stories went; several families from the Midwest came here, settled the area and raised their crops in the fertile valley. I wanted to know who started the church and why. The old woman took so long to speak, her hands clasped in her lap, I thought perhaps she had gone to sleep, which wouldn't be the first time that had happened. Then she told the story, a most unbelievable story. One spring, the trouble started, lambs killed, new crops uprooted, nothing ever eaten, just destroyed. This went on into the summer, hardly any crops survived and very few livestock either. This was devastating to the community; they would be facing starvation that winter. Their only hope were the fall crops. All around the newly seeded fields, torches were kept lit all night and men and women alike took turns walking the perimeter, loaded musket in hand, yet every morning, seedlings were uprooted and trampled. That Sunday, all the families in the area gathered to discuss what they were going to do. Some families spoke of leaving before the weather turned cold. Most wanted to stay, but they were at a loss. One little girl spoke up, said she saw something just last night, a glimpse of some creature, she didn't know what it was, but it's eyes glowed red in the torchlight. Another said they saw something too, just like a great big dog, but it stood upright. Some others had heard stories from the natives in the area, that there was a demon dog that made its home in the nearby swale (a swale is a shallow swamp). Well, these farmers were a practical lot, so they decided to pray to the angels, since they figured angels fight demons and they needed an angel to rid them of this demon dog. So they prayed, all night and into the next day. Some of them fell asleep right there as they prayed, woke up and started praying again. By evening, they disbursed, each to their own farms to try to protect what was left of their crops. Late in the evening, a terrible sound was heard from the swale, such as never had been heard before. Most of the farmers went to see what was happening. The swale was surrounded by willows and other trees and the ground was soft and wet, but as they made their way into the clearing, they saw a terrible sight. There was what looked like a great bird striking at a large black dog, which lunged at the bird, trying to bring it down. As the farmers got closer they could see the bird was a woman with great black wings and an axe in each hand, swinging with great strokes at the large creature. The two fought all night, back and forth, each bearing wounds from the other. The fighting became so fierce, that the trees nearest them started to smoke and burn, and the farmers had to retreat to a safe distance. The whole swale caught on fire, and all the while the two great creatures fought on, you could hear the snarling and yelling over the crackling of the fire. By morning the fire had burned itself out and the whole swale was covering in a great blanket of ashes. They never knew what the outcome of the battle was, neither the creature nor the angel were seen again. They built a church there beside the ash filled swale and named it after the angel that fought for them, and while now no one goes there, some of the old-timers who know what happened, make sure it keeps standing, as a tribute to the angel who saved them so long ago. As I left, the sun was dipping toward the horizon and the whole sky looked like it was on fire and approaching the swale now known as Ash Swale, I swear I saw red eyes watching me as I passed. 864 words, This tale was inspired by a real place