“Indian Shout”

By Madeline Fiol

Pa sauntered into the cabin room and shouted, “We are leaving!”

Ma stared up at him, her eyes full of tears, but she nodded. 

“Indians are coming,” Pa kicked the chair with the toe of his foot.

I knew we could not stay.

“Abigail, go pack your bags,” Pa told me. “We leave in the morning.”

I escaped to my attic room determined not to cry. Why were the Indians coming?  In those few moments alone, I had to decide what to do. I knew one thing, the new twin babies would likely not survive the journey. I could not stay to watch. Tonight I planned to find the enemy.

When Ma and Pa had finally stopped talking to each other and fallen asleep, I sneaked downstairs and out the cabin door. That night was cold and dark, but I knew the land by memory. I also knew the Indians were not far away. In a knapsack I carried my red hair ribbon, ten pearl buttons I had torn from my old Sabbath dress, and some red yarn. I knew the Indians liked presents. As I trotted through the forest, I remembered the many other times I had gone to visit my Indian friends. Tonight I worried the Indians would not be so friendly. I hoped for the best. 

A twig snapped. I turned around to face a giant Indian warrior. He grunted. His black eyes were shining. My hands trembled as I held up my Indian bracelet to prove to him I had come before. He lowered his spear and squinted at me. Finally he led me to his village. I had been there many time. It was so different. I could hardly tell it was the same place. It was bare and small. Skinny Indians huddled together around the camp fire. When they saw me, they surrounded me. At last the old Indian, Anuj, came up. He was the only one in his tribe who could speak English. 

“Singing Girl, why have you come?” He asked me using his nickname for me though his face was stern and unkind.

“Anuj, I came to ask you questions. I need your help,” I said. “Why are you driving my family east? I thought you said your tribe were our friends!”

Anuj frowned, “My tribe is starving and dying because white men have come and taken our land and our meat.”

“Anuj, my family is not strong enough to travel. I have two new baby sisters who will most likely not survive the trip. Can you help?” I pleaded. “You promised me you were my friend. I love this land and it is my home.”

“Stay, Singing Girl, stay with us! We will make sure no harm comes to Singing Girl,” declared Anuj.

I had wanted to be an Indian since I was young, but now given the choice I only shook my head and murmured, “I have a family that I rely on. I cannot leave them. Can you help them?”

“Ten moons,” shouted Anuj. “They can stay for ten moons.” 

I nodded, “Thank you, Anuj.”

Then I opened my knapsack and gave him the ribbon, buttons, and yarn whispering, “Gifts!”

We talked for a long time by the fire. He told me of all his tribe had gone through. He described the sickness and hunger they had endured. I told him of my new sisters. I did not tell him about my fear of leaving home to go east. I knew he would not like it.

When it was time to leave, Anuj went with me to tell my parents that we could stay a little longer. He gave me a necklace and told me I was a good girl. The sun was coming up casting shimmering reflections on my beads. Soon we could see my tiny cabin up on the hill. Yet when I went inside the rooms were empty. My family was gone. They had left.

“They went without me!” I shrieked.

“Do not worry, Singing Girl, you will come to live with me!” reassured Anuj. 

I did not listen, I could not. I started running. I had to catch them before they left me forever. Soon I heard panting breathes beside me. It was Anuj.

“Where are you going?” he demanded.

I did not slow down, “I have to catch them before they leave!”

Now I was passing Whitman’s farm. They were our closest neighbors. I stopped. There was no way I could catch up. They were gone.

“Abigail? Is that you?”  Mrs.Whitman called. 

I twirled around to see her staring at me, with a basket of clothes ready to be washed at the creek balanced on her hip. 

“Yes, ma’am,” I said.

“You have got plenty of explaining to do!” cried Mrs.Whitman stomping her foot. “Well, do not stare at me. Go up to the house and explain where you have been. Your parents were so crazy with worry they came down to our place looking for you.”  

The End 

     

continuing 

The First Journey

Point Four

Hoe stared at the blank wall and stomped his foot. It was just like them. They had left him behind. Sure he had been a grump about the entire thing, but it was a shock to Hoe that they were not going to bring him along. They were taking the journey, and he was not going. Hoe made the biggest decision he had ever made. He was going after them. Sure he was terrified of the forests and he had no idea where the City of Fire was, but he knew one thing. Brenda had saved his life and he was not going to let her go to the city where great danger lurked alone.

"Hoe to the rescue!" the little boy said.

He was more terrified then he had ever been, but he was not going to be left behind.  As quietly as he could, he scooted the bedroom's single chair toward the window. Climbing up onto it, he started unfastening the window. After three tries, a very bruised Hoe toppled through the window and onto the rose hedge. For a moment Hoe did not move. Everything ached. Finally he climbed up and ran as fast as his little sore legs could wobble into the dark forrest.

"Hoe does not know where to look?" He mumbled to himself brushing thorns off his jacket and pants.

Suddenly he caught a glimpse of a foot print in the earth. It looked like Brenda's foot print. There were more up ahead. So with new encouragement, Hoe bounded after them. The faster he went the more tiered he got.

"Why did they leave Hoe in the first place? Now Hoe has to run and try to catch up. Hoe mad!" He declared to himself.

His feet started hurting with every step. Hoe persevered slower and slower into the woods. He was hungry since he had eaten nothing that entire day. What was there to eat? All he saw was never ending trees. After what seemed to Hoe hours, he came to a river. The footprints stopped at the water's edge.

"Now what Hoe supposed to do? Hoe stuck. Hoe hungry," he complained.

Squinting across the river, Hoe could barely make out a brown flat object tied to a tree on the other side. It was an old raft. Hoe felt hopeless.

"Hoe could catch fish. Hoe never caught fish before. Bad idea,"muttered Hoe.

He gazed at the rushing water despairingly. He would have to swim. Of course he knew this was dangerous, but it was the only way. Instead of waiting to make up his mind, he plunged into the water.

Hoe was suddenly fighting the current with all his energy(although he did not have a lot). He was choking, kicking, punching, and shrieking.

"Help me! Help me!" He wailed although he knew no one could hear him.

"Hold on!" shouted a voice that sounded to far away to offer Hoe much hope.

It gave Hoe enough hope to keep fighting the water though his muscles were hurting if he had any. A branch was thrust at him. He hung to it for dear life. With several abrupt yanks, he and the branch were hoisted to shore.

"You sure are not a real good swimmer, little guy," said someone or something above him.

Hoe peaked up and stared at a girl who looked much older then him but younger then Brenda. "Who you?" he asked weakly.

"Some people call me Fin, but my fancy title is Spy Finmath, " declared the girl. "I am looking for a runaway knight. His name is Sir Icmath."

to be continued 

Continuing…

The First Journey

Point Three

Brenda was starting to wonder if fallowing this knight was smart. She kept reminding herself that there was no other choice.

“What is Hoe going to do?” Brenda asked.

“I have other plans for Hoe,” returned the knight with a broad grin.

“Hoe not help knight!” Hoe shouted, glaring up at the knight.

The knight only laughed, “I think you and I are going to get along real well.”

Hoe scowled.

“I am tired of walking,” panted Brenda.

“We only have a little longer before we get to stop and rest at a friend’s house. Do not worry!” promised the knight.

“Hoe does not want to stop,” Hoe growled.

Brenda stopped and stared at Hoe, “One minute you want to stop and the next you want to keep going. I do not understand you Hoe.”

“He will probably change his mind once he tastes Mr.Wizzle-Wig’s stew,” announced Sir Icmath optimistically. “Here we are!”

 Brenda saw with relief a humble harmless looking cottage. It was a house that looked as though it came from a story book. It had two flower pots in front of the door filled with red pansies. Sir Icmath tapped the door with the tip of his shoe. A tiny old man answered.

“Icmath, I did not expect you,” the stranger said.

“Well, a lot happens in a year!” laughed Sir Icmath. “Tell me Mr.Wizzle-Wig, you do not happen to have any stew for the children do you?”

“Icmath? Have I ever not had stew on hand? Children, go into the kitchen. Help yourself to that big bowl of soup in there,” Mr. Wizzle-Wig offered hospitably.

Brenda pulled Hoe into the kitchen and immediately helped herself to a big bowl of soup. It was delicious. Hoe ate slowly with a big frown.

“Do not be so grumpy, Hoe,” scolded Brenda feeling annoyed.

Hoe looked up at her and said grimly, “Hoe does not like this.”

When the children finished eating, Mr. Wizzle-Wig led them to his spare room. Despite his uneasiness, Hoe was tired and he fell asleep immediately. It felt good to snuggle up on Mr. Wizzle-Wig’s feather bed. He woke up some time later and climbed out of bed. He trotted toward the door. It was locked! He looked around. Brenda was gone! Suddenly it hit him, he was all alone…

To be continued

Merry Christmas! Here is a Christmas treat...

“The Star on Pebble Stone Avenue” 

The leaves, the crisp air, the breeze, and the acorns were all gone. Autumn was gone. It left behind winter, a cold, bare season. The only thing to be hoped for on those icy days was Christmas.

The Public H.C. Harris House for Orphans was full of enthusiasm. Everyone was looking forward to the holidays. The orphan girls dragged down from the attic boxes of all shapes and sizes filled with holiday decorations. The orphan boys tried to prop up the eight-foot-tall pine tree in the parlor.

Alas! This was no ordinary pine tree. This tree was to be decorated by the girls with homemade ornaments. It would be lit up with candles. A silver star made of shiny paper would top it. This was a Christmas tree!

No one is sure how it became a tradition, but it had been a tradition in The Public H.C.Harris House for Orphans as long as the old servants could recall, that who ever found the silver star first in the boxes would be the one to put it on the top of the tree. The children were now searching wildly.

“Mr. Harris, Junior, I found it! I found it!”screamed a little girl named Flora.

She waved the star over her head. The boy behind her patted her back and murmured his congratulations. She beamed. 

“Good job, Flora! You have found it,”declared Mr. Harris Junior giving one of his rewarding smiles.

Mr. Harris, Junior, did not smile often. When he did, he looked happy and friendly, otherwise, he gave people the impression  he was a stern, angry man. This was not all together true. Mr. Harris, Junior, had taken lead of the orphanage after his father died because he had seen it as his duty. He had come to love the children; although, no one knew it. He hardly knew it himself. The man was sensible and fair. He was warmhearted. Of course, he could be stern when it was necessary, but more often than not, he seemed sterner than he meant to be. Of all his faults, like everyone, he had many, his worst was not smiling enough.  

The girls were covering the tree with ornaments. They hung tiny bells.  Then they wrapped ribbons around the tree.  The boys brought the string of gold beads and draped it over or under each branch. An older girl came holding the candles and bade everyone to hang them on the tree. The little children proudly hung up the ornaments they had made. During all this, Flora protectively hugged the star in her arms and watched the decorating earnestly. Mr. Harris, Junior, picked her up. He walked to the tree, and lifted her higher and higher until she could reach the top. Her eyes shining and her face glowing with pleasure, Flora placed the silver star on the top. She gazed at it for a moment.

“What does the star mean, Mr. Harris? What does ‘Christmas’ mean?”asked Flora softly.

“Christmas is all about having a good time. The star is a tradition!” Mr.Harris, Junior, laughed and placed her back on the floor. 

At that moment a visitor appeared in the door way.

“Merry Christmas, darlings! Remember me? Mrs.Cream! There is frost on the windows! I came to bring your Christmas presents and take one of you to my house for the holidays!”announced Mrs.Cream.

Every child raced to her and formed a sloppy line. Flora was at the end. When Flora received her present, Mrs.Cream urged enthusiastically,

“Here is the last present I have. Open it, dear!”

Flora obeyed. Once opened, she stared at the gift dolefully for a moment. It was a plastic toy truck. The other girls got dolls, but she had received the last present. 

“Christmas is the best time of year! It is about family. All of my presents are special because of the people that gave them to me! Without my family, Christmas would have no purpose in the end.”Mrs.Cream cried,“Were you saying something, dearie?” 

“Thank you for the gift.  Did you mean that the reason...”Flora sighed“...we celebrate the holidays is because of family?”

“That is what Christmas is all about!”Mrs. Cream stated.

Flora slipped out of the parlor. She trudged toward the school room. The house was shabby and old. The floor boards whined against her light step. She tried to tiptoe into the school room as quietly as she could.  There she slipped onto the window seat to think. 

What does Christmas mean? Is it just about family? I have no family! Does that mean Christmas is only a holiday for people who do? If Christmas is just about having fun with your family what is the point of us orphans celebrating Christmas? We are all alone. 

Curling up in a ball to stay warm, Flora pressed her nose against the frosty window pane. 

I have nothing ... except a silly truck. That present is not special. It was not meant for me. 

“Flora! You are crying!”gasped someone from above her.

Flora peeped up. She saw her teacher, Miss Molly. Flora wondered what to say.

“I like your sweater,”she commented absentmindedly.  

“I love dressing up for the holidays. My sister gave this to me one year for Christmas,”said Miss Molly with a little laugh.

Miss Molly loved to laugh. Once she had told a friend it was her favorite thing to do. It was. She was hardly ever glum.

Now she stared at Flora, and her smile faded away. 

“Teacher, is Christmas about family? Is that the point of it? What about me? I do not have a family, I am all alone on Christmas!”Flora whispered.

Miss Molly frowned, “No, you are not! Christmas is about Jesus who came to Bethlehem as a baby. He was born in a stable, and the only crib He had was a manger. You have Jesus. That means you are never alone. He came to us as a child...”

“So He could die for us, Teacher? Christmas is celebrating His coming?”Flora looked overwhelmed. 

“Yes, He came to the earth for you even though you live all the way down on Pebble Stone Avenue in a big orphanage. He loves you. The wise men followed a vibrant star to see the baby King. They knew it was no ordinary star and they were right!”Miss Molly grinned.

“Then that is what the star means! The star on the Christmas tree! Then Christmas is for everyone. Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas, dear Teacher!”sang Flora as she covered the teacher with kisses, and Miss Molly giggled.

Flora skipped back to the parlor. She stared up at the silver star. Her eyes sparkled as she thought to herself, The star of Bethlehem led the wise men to Jesus. Thank you Jesus, for coming to die for me. 

  Fall was gone. Snow, whirled around outside. The few people who went by Pebble Stone Avenue would often catch a glimpse of a Christmas tree through the front window of  The Public H.C.Harris House for Orphans. Somehow, it looked significant; And those who stared long enough just might have caught a glimpse of a silver star.

   

continuing 

"The First Journey"

Point Two

Out from behind the bush, a savage soldier stared at them. Hoe leaped forward and poked the man in the stomach with a stick.

"None of that, little boy," commanded the stranger.

Hoe stopped and peaked up at the man. Hoe was trembling because to him he had just done the bravest thing he had ever attempted to do before. This man looked like a giant to Hoe.

"I am Sir Icmath. I do not plan on hurting either of you children. In fact I think I can use you," the knight explained.

"You look like one of the knights who destroyed my village," cried Brenda her voice trembling from anger and fear.

"I know. I ran away from them," Sir Icmath said solemnly. "They are evil men trying to gain power. I was brought up as one of them. Did I like it? No, I hated that life. I have at last escaped. I have a plan, and I will need your help."

"Can we trust you?" asked Brenda staring at the tall man doubtfully.

Sir Icmath laughed, "You do not have much of a choice."

Hoe stomped and shouted, "Hoe won't help!"

Sir Icmath glared at Hoe and turned back to Brenda, "Explain to that boy that he does not have a choice. Hurry! We need to go on our way."

"What do you mean?" Brenda frowned at Sir Icmath.

"Were going to the City of Fire.  That is where head quarters are," Sir Icmath stated sternly.

Sighing heavily, Brenda nudged Hoe and mumbled, "He is right. We have no choice."

Hoe trailed behind them without a word.

"What is you plan?" asked Brenda addressing the soldier. "Are you planning on gathering a troop or something?"

Sir Icmath laughed again, "There is only one way to defeat this group. They have one weakness."

"What is that?" Brenda sighed.

"They are not used to being surprised. They are used to surprising others. Headquarters is underground. A troop of thousands of people could not defeat them. A troop of one person could," declared Sir Icmath thoughtfully.

"You are that one person," Brenda guessed.

"Nope," the big knight grinned, "You are."

to be continued 





 

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"The First Journey"

Point One

Brenda carried all her belongings in one sack. She stared up at the sky and gazed at the large mountains. She was leaving. Leaving her home in Dusk Town. She had to go. This valley, which had once been so amazing, was now bare. Her home was smoldering in the dust. A terrible army had attacked them... she knew nothing about the barbarians who had torn her town to pieces. All she knew was they were evil.

Suddenly she heard a whimper. The sound was so faint she could hardly make it out. Hope soared in her heart. Maybe she was not all alone in this destruction. Could someone else of survived? Silence. She pushed herself to her feet. It had been her imagination.

The sun was peaking out from behind the mountain top. Time to move. Brenda walked carefully around a broken chair and down what had once been a dirt road.

She heard a whimper. This time it was louder. Brenda walked faster toward the sound. She found herself staring face to face with a little boy.

He was muddy from foot to toe. He stared at her and blinked.

"Are you alright?" asked Brenda.

The boy whimpered and held up his tiny hand. It was bleeding.

"It is just a scrape,"Brenda murmured.

The child nodded and let Brenda wrap her handkerchief around his fist.

"What is your name?" asked Brenda curiously.

"Name is Hoe," declared the boy staring up at Brenda, "Where Ma?"

"Your Ma is gone Hoe. You better come with me. This place is no home for you anymore," Brenda said gently.

"Big mean knights take Ma? I want Ma!"shouted Hoe.

"Hoe, you have to come with me!" Brenda stated grimly.

"Hoe wait. Ma come. Ma always come," cried Hoe glaring up at Brenda.

"Hoe, your Ma is not coming back! You have to come with me!" stormed Brenda.

Hoe shook his head, "Hoe be good. Hoe wait. Ma come."

"Hoe, your Ma is not coming back! She is dead," Brenda said.

She took Hoe's hand and pulled him. He was strangely quiet. He let her tug him down through the rubble and into the forest. She did not look back. She could not. Her home was ruined. Now she would start a new adventure. Her heart ached, but she was going to be brave. She would find the City of Fire and start her new life there.

"Hoe stop. Hoe is tired," said the little traveler beside her.

Brenda groaned, "Hoe, you have to understand. We have hardly started. If you come along you have to keep up."

"Hoe not want to come," said Hoe.

"I could not have left you there alone,"growled Brenda.

"What big mean knights want? " Hoe asked bluntly.

Brenda shrugged her shoulders, " You sure do talk a lot for being so young. I do not know what they wanted. All I know is they are evil."

Something moved in the shadows and a great voice snarled, "I know who they are. They are evil alright!"

to be continued