The dry Arizona wind blew steadily across the desert plains. All was quiet, except for the occasional caw pf the few vultures flying overhead. Tumbleweeds dancing on the land, bumping into the lone cacti now and then. The setting sun casting a burned orange hue over the land. Almost in the dead center area of the desert was a town- completely abandoned. The wooden structures moaning against the wind. Faint creaking pf the saloon door hinges- the inner door panels gently grazing against each other as they swayed back and forth.
Flies buzzing around the vacant bar. Once a place filled with music and general rowdiness, now only filled with that soft buzzing. Up on the second floor of the saloon, aside from the once occupied rooms for the local brothel workers, sat a small office at the end of the far right hallway. A slightly balding, middle-aged man sits at a desk that is covered with paper work. His head being propped up by his left hand as he is feverishly going through the mountain of paper. He pours himself a shot of whisky, downs it, and leans back in his chair, and loosens his tie. His chubby face slightly pink from a mixture of stress and alcohol. He sighed and poured himself another drink.
"You keep doin' that and you'll drink yerself into an early grave." said a southern belle voice behind him. He hesitated or a moment and just stared at the glass of amber liquid.
"Sounds about right." he downed the shot then set the glass aside. "Would get me away from all these God-forsaken bills." he stood up from the desk and made his way to his bedroom; adjacent to his office through a back door, the woman following closely behind.
"Oh, Henry, darling...I'm sure business will pick again soon." Henry shook his head and grumbled.
"We haven't had any visitors in months. We are running low on food, we only have $300 and some spare change left, and you're married to a shlub who can't think of new ideas for this damned place." Henry laid on his side, his back facing his wife. She sat by Henry on the bed and rubbed his back soothingly.
"You'll see, sugar. Things will be better. In fact, I think I have an idea." she walked across the room to the wall safe hidden behind their wedding portrait. She took out an old dusty book and presented it to Henry. It was an ancient book that used to belong to a Native American tribe that used to live near Henry's settlement. The Chief gave it to Henry before the tribe had relocated to new land, as a sign of brotherhood and goodwill- with one condition.
"This tome will teach you about the land and it's environment. Passed down from Chief to Chief; it contains all our knowledge. But be warned: the great spirits of our people look after this book so that it's knowledge and power can be used for the right purposes. Do not trifle with things you do not understand."
Henry ran his hand over the oxen leather bound over and started to flip through it's soft dark cream tinted pages. He slowly made his way to a section all about the spiritual plain of the world. He looked to his wife and shrugged.
"Well, what's a ghost town with no ghosts."