Haunting, or a small exercise in story outlining

On the road between Las Cruces and El Paso, Shif, an itinerant doula, found an accordion.

Investigating further, she discovered an ice-cream stand cleverly concealed behind a casino billboard.

Three refreshing peppermint scoops later, luxuriating in the afternoon sun, Shif conversed with a gathering crowd, who told of ghastly, tuneless polkas heard in the small hours of the night.

She was pointed toward a desolate butte, and told not to stop until she found a house.

The accordion owner turned out to be an old women who lived on a large, decrepit zebra ranch.

The resemblance of the clump of agaves behind the zebra shed to the skeleton of Shif's childhood babysitter, who vanished in the midst of a ceilidh, was nauseating.

Tequila didn't appeal to Shif anymore, and often she would warn newborns of the desert's haunting, gravelly melodies.