hey had to stop me again. The red-haired man was laughing all this
time. I wanted to run, back to my own family in their little house, and
yet running would have been wrong; I was too angry to run, so I stayed.

"My sister," I said. "My sister is a witch and I will get her to put a
curse on you." I was very angry, you must understand this.

And of course they had no idea that my sister is a real witch, and her
curses are real, and only last year Manuel Valdez had died from the
effects of her curse. Of all people, sometimes I wish I were my sister
most of all, to curse people and see them shrivel and sicken and choke
and die.

"Go ahead, half-pint," one of the other men yelled. "Get your sister to
put a curse on me. I bet she knows who I am; I been with every Mex girl
this side of the border."

This made me see red; my sister is pure and must be pure, since she is a
witch. And she is not like some of the others even aside from that. I
have heard her talk about them and I know.

I called him a name and ran up to him and hit him; my fist against his
solid side felt good, but some other men pulled me off again. Yet it was
impossible to leave. This was wrong for me, and I had to make it right.
"I shall get my father to fight you, since he is a giant ten feet tall."

The men laughed at me, not knowing, of course, that my father is a giant
ten feet tall in truth, and my mother a sweet siren like those in the
books, the old books, with spells in her eyes and a strange power. They
did not know I was not a daydreaming child but a man who told truth.

And they laughed; I grew angry again and told them many things, calling
them names in Spanish, which they did not understand. That only made
them laugh the more.

Finally I left; it was necessary for me to leave, since I was not
wanted. But it was necessary, too, for me to make things right. Nights
later they were dead for what they had said and done.

For I tell the truth always, and I had told them about my sister and my
father and my mother. But one thing I had not told them.

I am sorry they could never know I was the winged thing that frightened
and killed them, one by one....

Transcriber's Note:

This etext was produced from _Fantastic Universe_ January 1957.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and
typographical errors have been corrected without note.