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.
Manitou
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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