Excerpt from Winter Solstice

After what seemed like minutes of darkness, I awoke to a crow’s loud screeching. The wind was howling nearby. My eyes were too clouded to observe my surroundings. I smelled the pleasing aroma of beans, squash, and spices, just like the dishes Aksotha made when she still lived. As my vision grew clearer, I became more confused. The eight-sided maplewood room was illuminated with stand ing torches in each corner of the area. Paintings of men and creatures alike doing actions I could not comprehend covered the walls. At the opening, ropes were strung with bells, probably to alert the chieftain of this village of one’s presence, but they strangely seemed unbothered by the windstorm. Foreign objects lined the walls of the shelter. Shiny, colorful, and tiny were some of these, similar to the ones on the jewelry a few of the privileged women wore. But here they were so numbered and plentiful. The invaders would envy such a sight. The gale seemed to tear at the sides of the hut.

While I was observing what seemed to be a flying half moon with teeth on the far wall, the bells sounded behind me. A squat man a bit taller than I with a bit of a protruding stomach entered. He had a fairer complexion than any of my kind but was still darker than the white people. His green eyes amazed me, for I had never any so brightly colored. Tattoos with intricate designs ran from his sleek, ebony ponytail ran through his bald sides down to his flat beard. “Good. You have awakened. The festivities may begin.”

His voice was deep and soothing. No matter what he said, I would hear it as the truth. Yet, something was wrong with him. I think I noticed how his green eyes surveyed me, as if I were prey. However, he never looked me in the eyes. Let this serve as lesson that I should have heeded my instincts.

“We should not tarry long here. The night grows old and the morning bird too will awaken soon. You play a vital role in my affairs, mortal. You are the object sustaining my lifeline.” I grew confused. Where was I? Is this how the afterlife truly begins? How come I have not seen the rest of my people? What festivities was he speaking of? The midwinter equinox could not be celebrated with the utter destruc tion of my tribe. I also did not know the word for mortal at that time, for I was just a little boy.

While I stood in silence, wondering about my situation, the strange man continued observing peculiarly. I may be mistaken now, but I believe I saw him lick away saliva from his chin quickly.

“You will waste no more time. There is a great heap of wood on the other side of this domain. You must light this with the flint I have left there. Follow the lit path there. Do not deviate from this path,” he declared, clear, with each word pro nounced.

“You will anger me and my friends. You do not want to meet them.”

He seemed to have rapidly stifled a smile upon finishing his threat. The wind kept on its unrelenting fight.

“Go.”

Even though I remained baffled, what I had to do was clear. I was wise enough to realize I could not deny this man what he wanted from me. There was no other choice. The only thing left to ponder was the one remaining question I needed to know.

“Who are you?” I asked.

The gale stopped as soon as I finished the question. The sheer silence that followed uneased me. The eerie chieftain finally looked up from my feet straight into my eyes. His grew wide and tall. Green, usually a sober color of fertility, now seemed to me to be a color of impure destruction and partial desolation. He gave a terrible, tooth-filled grin.

A strong wind blew through the rope and bells. The fire in the torches gave out right away. There was no light, save that which came from outside. The terrifying man had disappeared. I felt cold and shivered shortly, as if I had jumped into a frigid river without feeling the wetness. I could then hear, as if a hundred voices were whispering it over and over again, the most dreaded name of all.

“Tawiscara.”

I rushed out of the hut to find myself marveling at what lay before me. Glow ing plants and bugs of all sorts lit the way. Crimson red, fair blue, and pure white filled my eyes with joy and made me forget about all that happened. Butterflies and moths alike frolicked among the rays given off by the flowers. The air outside warmed me. I wanted to stand there forever, but I trusted the threats of the evil twin.

As I continued down the passage, I realized that the glow only rose to about ten feet up. Above that, the dark and barely visible trees barren of leaves swayed back and forth, yet the life on the ground seemed undisturbed.

Walking for mere minutes, I noticed a compound ahead and a few surround ing structures. It seemed to be the longhouse of a small village. I picked up my pace. As I got closer, I could smell smoke but could also hear deep wailing. I went past the longhouse to find a group of about eight natives, one of whom was a small child and a couple of whom were women. They were likely of one of the other northern tribes since their garb covered most of their body. One, the biggest of them all, approached me and spoke Wyandot.

“Hello, young one. You do not seem to belong here. How have you reached this barren place?”

While he was speaking to me, I discerned scratches over his milky eyes and tattoos of beasts covering almost all the skin free from his garments. I looked more closely at the others, discovering that they too shared these harsh and brutal mark ings.

“I do not know,” I responded, “I fell into water near my village, and I think I have passed on. But this is not the sky world.”

He smiled, but unlike the insidious deity’s, his did not frighten me; it comforted me.

“You are mistaken, child. You are not yet dead; I can sense it in you. Yet, you are also right. This is far, so far from the sky world.”

I continued to stand there awkwardly, staring at him. I had so many ques tions to ask this man who appeared to know, but my excitement and emotion was somehow suppressed.

“Who are you all?” I asked.

The strong man’s face winced.

“You ask much of us, mortal. Our memories either are taken from us or are too painful to keep. Our names are even gone. We will nonetheless oblige.”

He took a deep breath and looked into my eyes.

“Not too long ago when we were a part of the true warrior tribe, enemies of yours, we were as usual at war. But this time we were losing badly. The Iroquois had already began their assault on their lands, killing our children and raping our women. Six of us were isolated from the rest of our people. We had no choice,” he said choking up.

“We knew Ioskeha would not aid us. We were about to be defeated. Such is the natural course of life for many men. We had to resort to another.”

“Don’t recite his name!” hissed another of the tribe. A frightening shriek, the same as the one that awoke me, passed through the deadwood around us.

The unfortunate man in front of me nodded.

“I must hurry. The one with flint came to us one night when we were asleep. He offered us salvation, but we should have known it was damnation. We were granted strength, speed, weapons: anything needed to take on their entire armies. And we did, until he returned for us.”

The branches above us swayed as the warrior referred to him again. Anoth er set of shrieks sounded, much closer than the first.

“We refused to go with him to here. We had not finished defending our lands. We still needed to wipe out the rest of your tribes. All of us had also heard stories of this place. Do you not realize? It seems so pleasant, as if one could live here forever without complaint, but with the clap of his hands…”

As he was getting out his next word, something burst out of the trees and chomped him in its jaws, taking him into the air. It resembled a face with strands of hair as thick as ropes writhing behind it. They flew away into the darkness above, him still screaming. More followed in seconds, taking the rest of the others. One of the men tried grabbing onto me but was whirled up.

Though my fear nearly froze me, I knew I had to leave fast. I heard a subtle heart-stopping laugh from the way I had come. I looked and saw a face with skin paler than white, gaping, yellow teeth, sunken eyes, tiny pupils, wrinkled skin, and a crooked nose chuckling. I bolted towards the far end of the village. Snow began to fall from the darkness. The utter chill returned.

I ran, continuously hearing the screeching and ghostly giggling of the flying head. I kept running until all the light faded. Whirling in a circle, I could not see a thing. But at least the chuckling and shrieking had seized. That was, until a roaring pit of flames about twenty feet in diameter alighted in front of and under me.

“You failed in death as in you did in life!” his now gleeful voice hollered from behind. I turned around and faced the vengeful god.

“But do not fret, Little White Fox. Your undying wishes will be granted, if you would just take my hand.”

In that moment, my will and reason overcame my weaknesses. I knew for an instant I could not succumb to my petty fears and wants. He fortunately read through me at that moment.

“Another time, perhaps,” he finished, grinning in the same manner as he did before pulling off his disappearing act . He shoved me back and I fell into the flames. As they were beginning to lick my skin, I woke up again on a snowy river bank.