Tuesday, March 18, 2014

Dark Incarnate - Chapter3 Book2

First off, thanks to those who have been following.  So far it's been very plot heavy and almost no erotic content.  I'll take a wild guess that most of you didn't sign up for all this story and plot for no fun.  I'll get there!  This one is VERY unfinished with large swaths of conversation and description still to do but I think this is an interesting twist and spin on the story.  I'm just trying to plow through and get words on paper right now.  

I suggest you come back in a month or two because the story, spelling, and grammar are in shambles atm.  I post on here mostly for myself but I know that for those enjoy it, there's nothing close out there.  I'd love to find a story with content like mine.  Feel free to post me a link in comments. 


The little red pickup bumped down a neglected state road.  The two people inside the cab struggling to cope with their strange feelings and fears.  Both felt a strong shiver of doubt running up their spine.  Kelly recognized the road. and she couldn't ignore the coincidence.  There were no such thing as mere coincidence anymore.  The truck drove past the old mine.  Not that the state ever cared much for the road but after the mine it really got bad.  Brian was used to it but Kelly was getting further and further away from what little comfort she knew.  More than once had a mudslide taken out half the road.  Brian had made a makeshift bridge lashing together whatever he had at the time.  Old 4x4 timbers and a few smaller trees bounced as the truck passed over the gap.  The two exchanged a glace their faces held an entire conversation.  What little potholed blacktop there was came to an abrupt stop. 

"Hold on, got to put it in four wheel.  Halfway there!"  Brian hopped out leaving the door open while her eyes were wide in amazement.  His comfort of the daily routine gave Kelly a good feeling, but she was far from home.  The old truck rumbled a smooth purr as she muttered to herself, halfway?  Brian hopped back in without a word and with the door still open he backed up ten or twelve feet only to leave and do something to each tire.  The work was alien to Kelly.  The truck was rolling forward again on what looked like an old goat trail. 

The destination was clear, they were headed to the top of the mountain.  It was a fitting place for such an Indian, high atop a mountain when the white man pillaged the heart of it with a mine.  Wise man, Shaman, the image she had in her mind was nothing, he was probably just an old man telling bedtime stories.  She felt so out of place, so far from home, how had she conned this quiet shop keeper to bring her here? 

Brian believed.  He was called the White Coyote by what remained of his heritage.  He was a sellout who spent his days in a tourist trap.  His family had stayed true, sheltered by the harsh landscape while other tribes ran big Casinos.  Brian was the heir to a responsibility he wasn't willing to carry.  He wore his shame in every step but chose to stand by his role in the world the best he could.  But this girl carried a heavy heart and bore a load he knew he was somehow meant to carry.  Taking her to see his father was his duty, a service to the old ways he didn't fully understand.  Brian pulled up to the old cabin; his job finished.  His life decision on his chest he nodded that she go in, "He'll be on the front porch."  She had courage, but this was HER path, her test.

Kelly pulled the latch on the door and took her first steps toward the home.  The Family had once been strong and powerful having no place to call home but the countryside itself.  Wooden steps marked the way to the porch through a rocky outcropping.    She was confused and feared some evil trick when she didn't see anyone on the porch.  The earth was nothing but rock, stumps and pine here outside the lone cabin.  The wild human voice that controlled and flowed with the land driven back to this place.  The last fortress of a dying time, the last vestige of that howling voice was hidden behind these walls.  She looked back to Brian who stood beside the truck waiting.  It was her stage, she was in the spotlight now he had done what she asked and would do nothing more.

The porch was weathered but strong and would be for a hundred years.  Odd feathers and stones made talismans and dream catchers where she might have expected bird feeders.  She knew no one would answer but her knuckles rapped the door shyly before the took the handle and pulled it open. 

The house smelled earthy, not of dirt but of the faint smoky smell in flint and animal firs after they've been tanned and of the tree sap and green spice, but most of all good clean leather.  Several horse saddles were stacked just inside the door with riding gear waiting for a horse that Brian would never bring.  The saddles were ready be used at a moments notice.  A stag handle caught Kelly's eye and her hand pulled a tomahawk from it's sheath.  She quickly put it back, she had touched without asking, but she knew it didn't matter here.  This was a place of mutual respect and pride.  Suddenly her whole existence at home felt fake and she couldn't believe she lived in the same world.  Before she felt that Candace's world of hand crafted bathrooms was special and real compared to her apartment, but the whole town was built on fake ideals and desires.  The house was dark but the open design was flooded with natural light from the far side.  Walking in further she felt like a welcomed guest.  A fireplace glowed with hot embers.  The cabin looked like it had been cut in two, the far wall was filled with paned windows and an open door.  An old man bent and hobbling with tiny steps was approaching the door.  Kelly stood tall and ready to meet him. 

Red Hawk knew a visitor would come, but looking through the door he couldn't believe the girl that stood where a warrior should.  Curiosity on his face he beckoned the girl to join him.  Kelly's hands were in her pockets toying with the arrowheads, her thumb drawn to the odd tip.   Red Hawk went to his rocker and took a deep breath letting the fresh mountain air fill his lungs.  How could this girl be the only one to come?  He tasted the wind and looked to the clouds but no answer came, only a young girl to his side.  She held arrowheads and offered him to take one.  Wrinkles of ageless concern were written on his face like tattoos he took one.  To Kelly he looked angry, the face of a bird of prey with sharp eyes.  He took it and closing his eyes his fist clenched the arrowhead and tossed it over the railing. 

How could he prepare such a one?  "Do not carry corrupted stones."

Kelly jumped to the rail to watch the black arrowhead disappear into the forest a hundred feet below.  She felt loss seeing the artifact go, but to this man it was nothing.  "I-ii found that this morning.. I was hoping you could tell me what.."

"When you already know the answer, why ask the question?"

Kelly was quiet, his words made her think.  After what had happened to her, after all she'd seen, why was she tip toeing on thin ice?  The sky and mountains lay before her; the day was beautiful and it was hot, terribly hot.  She couldn't remember the last rain.  No matter the beautiful landscape, memories flooded her mind.  It was so frail and weak when it came into the world.  Where was it?  How did it survive in this dry heat?

"I thought it was, ya know, Satan or something..."

The old man chuckled as he rocked the chair, "Did you see horns, red trident and forked tongue?  What you've found is a spirit of spirits, a root that binds the earth.  Many cultures and peoples have a name for it, so in a way you are right."

Kelly's fingers rubbed another arrowhead in her pocket, "Then it can't be killed?" 

"No more than the sun banishes the moon.  But it does not belong here.  Weakness and despair invite the Wendigo and it's hunger feeds their need.  The Wendigo never leaves only grows stronger while the human fades." 

Her face frowned, she didn't understand.  Was Tom the beginning or an effect?  "So, the first one, the one who invites the spirit..."

"He must die." 

Kelly's heart leapt into her throat, Tom was dead yet the spirit persisted that meant SHE was the one who had to die!  But it didn't make sense.  "I was... attacked, and my friend too..."  She paused, it's hunger fed their need, Candace had offered herself to it and even begged Kelly draw her a picture.  Was Candace suspect?  It did attack her first.  "It... it.. went after us, but I don't think it got what it wanted.  Until a man kidnapped me and it possessed him..  and.. aaan..."

"That man IS Wendigo!" 

"But we killed him!" Kelly was near tears and couldn't look at the old Indian.  Red Hawk stopped rocking and sat up concerned.  This girl was a warrior.

"I've seen it in others, and in things that don't even exist!  Not the root as you call it but it's influence and power."

Red Hawk thought of the King Fisher, a bird that dives into the water to steal a fish before returning to the sky.  Perhaps it could have the power to jump in and out.  "What have you seen?"

Kelly was crying, her chest rising and falling trying to force smooth words, "At first it was a little worm.  I drew a picture and it came to life, but they change.  One turned into a giant Bee and attacked my friend...  We tried to study and watch it, but...but"  The man was silent until she continued, "I could feel it trying to speak to me, but I couldn't hear it."

"It has more power than has even been told."

"Don't you get it!  I created something out of thin air too, a wolf that killed a boy who was hurting me...  It's in me isn't it?"

Red Hawk was astounded by the words and story.  For months signs had foretold of a coming storm but this was far worse than he could imagine.  "No, I would have sensed it.  In you and in all things there is a spirit.  Spirits exist all around us, some current, some past, and some who haven't taken shape.  They are Manitou.  The wolf was your Manitou, but it is not corrupted like the Wendigo. 

Kelly suddenly stopped crying; her Nargles!  It all made sense, they were Manitou.  Her eyes were still red but she turned to face him, "I can see them!  They're in the shadows!"

Red Hawk scowled, the question of how the girl had made contact with the Manitou was a mystery.  He had only seen the spirits during a sweat lodge ceremony with peyote.  This child had so much knowledge he was in awe.  "Yesss, but they do not all hide in the shadows.  It's been years since I've seen the white Manitou."

Relief plain on her face her tears gone and her face smiling again she asked, "So how do I kill it?"  His face broke into a matching smile, this girl was able to change so fast she was volatile like gunpowder.  Perhaps she was the perfect warrior. 

"With belief." 

Kelly looked at him sarcastically, "So I just walk up to it and yell 'I believe you're dead', and it's over?"

He muttered to himself as he got up, "Gunpowder is good and bad..."  Kelly tilted her head confused.  "Let me get you something."  He shuffled into the house and came back a moment later with a shoebox, a bag and something Kelly recognized immediately, a palette.  "These have come to me over the years and I'm to old now.  I hope the time is right for them to serve you." 

She took the box and lifted the lid.  Inside were glittering stones of blue, green, yellow and purple.  Arrowheads had been made from many different types of quartz and one large knife from a large dark smoky quartz.  Kelly held the knife up to the sun.  The double edge blade jagged with more expert flint knapping and the stone was dark opaque like ashen glass. 

"Our legends say that the smoky quartz is made from the tears my people cried as they were marched to their death.  The white man forced many tribes along the Trail of Tears to reservations.  Most died of starvation or fatigue, or were marched off a cliff at gunpoint.  The white mans greed, his Wendigo grew strong but never appeared for us to fight.  You are lucky you can see your enemy.

Kelly stared wide eyed and somehow feeling guilty.  Red Hawk looked at the young girl still wondering how she could fight such a foe.  His eyes were angry set deep behind high cheek bones but he accepted the past as an old man accepts the inevitable flow of time.  He regarded her for some time before speaking again, "You must not fear, fear is the mind killer.  Fear is the little death that bring total obliteration. You must face your fear, let it pass over and through you and when it is gone turn your inner eye to see it's path and there will be nothing.  Only you will remain."  She felt the sense of duality again, the sense of other place, other times, other hers out there fighting the same fight.  The sense of infinity.  What was fear? 

Seeing his words take affect Red Hawk prepared the next step of the ceromony.  Small vials emptied out ash and crushed dust onto the flat plank of wood where he added a few drops of water and mixed the paste into paint.  War paint.  He had never done this outside of a sweat lodge and without peyote.  But not even the greatest of his ancestors could see the Manitou without the ceremony, but this girl had.  Nothing was definite, nothing was sure, the world and all the players in it were very out of balance.  He smeared a thumb in black paint and Kelly instinctively closed her eyes.  A black line stretched from ear to ear crossing the bridge of her nose and coving her closed eye lids, then red snaked down her cheeks and throat.  He began to hum which grew into a low chant as Kelly opened her eyes.  With her eyes open the line was broken; evil would never be complete while she walked.  She was bewildered having no idea what was on her face or what she looked like. 

Red Hawk had turned leaving her alone.  He tossed some bitter smelling crushed herbs into the wind to signal the change.  Kelly felt strange, not silly, but not ready to go into town either.  She felt the knife again.  The blade was heavy and the hilt tightly bound with leather strips, she couldn't deny the power and historical weight it carried.  Was she suppose to use it or put it on a shelf in a museum?  The old man was chanting louder now and she felt it was time to go.  Her bag was on a wicker table and she unzipped the front pocket to add the arrowheads.  The volcanic glass ones slid out and one landed on the floor.  Red Hawk immediately stopped and turned with eyes of piercing anger.  Everything has a Manitou, from the trees and birds to rocks, and these stones were tainted with a great evil.  "DO NOT CARRY THESE!"

"I..-I'm sorry, we just found them.." Her scared face betrayed the strength of the mask.

"Are there others?"

"No I think this is all, we didn't see anymore in the ground."

Red Hawk felt a stab of fear, he shouldn't have thrown the one from the railing before.  "Give them to me." Scooping up a handful she handed them to him like beans.  The girl had no respect for the items she held.  He had no other option than to trust a hope.  Laying the stones in the high noon sunlight on the railing he was vexed on just how to dispose of them.  Kelly started to help and line them up before he barked at her again.  "Do not align them!"  His face softened realizing she didn't understand, "Broken pattern only."   

"They were in a circle when we found them, is that how it..."  She didn't have the words. 

"Yes, nothing is without meaning."  Not trusting the rocks, he turned to the shoebox.  "Align these on your windows.  And.." He paused, looking at the cheap bookbag.  Why would someone have such a thing?  Should wouldn't have a dreamcatcher, "And take this."  He took a Dream catcher down that was hung on a high porch beam.  Intertwined in the spider web of jute twine were various rocks and feathers, "Hang this above your bed."  He put it in the bag for her, cringing at the thin nylon fiber and cheap stitching.  He also took the quartz blade and placed it in the leather sheath and tied it to her jeans belt loop, "It is time for you to go now."  Kelly nodded her head in agreement.  "Brian cannot take you.  You must show the enemy this is your land and let the forest know there is hope."  Her eyes grew huge thinking of the long trip up to the mountain peak. 

Red Hawk continued, there was no discussion on the issue, it had to be, "Follow the sun for two fingers," he held his spread fingers up to the sky.  His pinky rested against the ridgeline and his tallest touched the sun, as the sun lowers in the sky it would follow the track laid out by his fingers.  Two fingers was about two hours.  "You will come to Snake river, follow it upstream and you will see town before nightfall."  He could see the doubt in here eyes, she couldn't be soft about such things.  The time had come for her to hold her head high and proud.  "You are a warrior, a champion of your people; act like one!" 

Kelly blinked and the line for an instant, but she took her bag and headed for the side stair; nothing was easy anymore.  She didn't feel the need to say goodbye or give thanks to such a man these were implied and she knew it. 

Red Hawk had one last word as she left, "Do not close your eyes!" 

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