Week 2 Story: A Warpath in the Woods
As I glided through the woods one morning, I spotted a young man below, walking the warpath in the woods. We owls are symbols of wisdom in some cultures and are ill omens in others. For this man, I was an ill omen.
The path he tread I knew was dangerous, haunted by the spirits of war. Attempting to warn him, I called out to him. He turned at my call but continued on.
I followed him through the woods, out of concern. A few minutes later, I heard twigs break underneath me and the man heard, as well. He looked behind him in panic, but saw nothing there.
But I saw her.
Many decades ago, a mother lost her son in war. He fell victim to his enemies, his foot crushed in the struggle by a panicked horse. Dragged along in chains, the young warrior died before reaching the enemy's territory and his body was tossed into a creek not far from where this young man now walked. His mother later perished from grief when he did not return home, her body left on a burial scaffold in these woods, near where her son's body was found.
I now watched as this grief-stricken mother followed behind the young man. After several hours, the sun set and the young traveler prepared to rest, quickly falling asleep.
During the night, I heard the woman grieving her son, crying out for him in the night. She approached the sleeping man and I watched quietly from above as she lifted his foot, dropping it on the ground. He did not stir. She repeated this a few times before reaching behind her and pulling out a knife.
Her laments continued as she placed the knife to the man's foot and began to cut. The young man jumped up in alarm, completely awake now that he risked losing a foot. His screams of panic scared her off and she quickly crawled into the thickets, muttering as she went.
I could not help but to notice that the man did not sleep the rest of the night.
The next morning, I found that curiosity compelled me to continue following the young traveler as he set off once again, this time rather exhausted from his eventful night.
Once more, I soared above him, watching for any signs of otherworldly activity. And once more, I was not disappointed. All those who walk the warpath are destined to encounter wandering spirits looking in death for what they did not have in life.
Several years ago, I witnessed a scene I will never forget. A man was passing through the woods along this path with a group of what I had assumed were his friends. The men were talking and laughing, waking me up from my rest in the middle of the day, much to my annoyance. After they had passed, I fell back asleep only to be awakened a few hours later by a scream of terror.
As I glided along, scanning the forest floor, I saw a rather deep hole in the ground, most likely an abandoned well. Inside, the man I had seen earlier was shrieking and crying out for help. His friends were no where to be seen.
I asked a squirrel what had occurred and he informed me that the man had been shoved into the well by his fellow travelers who then proceeded to pick through the poor man's belongings, taking off with what they deemed valuable, leaving their companion to die.
Disturbed by the man's despair, I left, returning eleven days later to find that the man had starved to death and passed on to the spirit world.
As I now watched the young man camp out for the night, this time with a blazing fire to light his surroundings, I was reminded of that unfortunate soul. As if he were summoned, I glanced down to see the forsaken traveler approach the young man.
The famished man begged for food, to which the young man replied that he had none to give. The strange man then accused him of lying and pointed to some food stowed nearby which, unfortunately for the young man, was quite visible to the intruder. He had no choice but to share with the skeletal man.
After finishing his meal, the stranger asked to use the traveler's pipe the young man was smoking. The rather tired young soul gave in to the man's requests and passed him the pipe. In an act of grotesque pride, the stranger took off his torn shirt to reveal a skeletal frame, devoid of flesh, from which the smoke poured. He laughed at the poor traveler's horrified expression and then challenged him to a wrestling match with the promise that if he bested the spirit, he would be able to vanquish his enemies and steal a wealth of horses.
After getting over his shock at this turn of events, the young man agreed.
I watched as the two struggled. The ghost appeared to have the upper hand, dragging the traveler into the shadows. Suddenly, wild wind roared through the trees, fanning the flames of the traveler's fire. In the resulting flash of light, the spirit lost his strength as light enveloped his bones and he succumbed to the young man's efforts, seemingly melting into the forest floor.
Once again alone, the young traveler stood staring into the woods before collapsing to the ground in exhaustion.
The next morning, he went on his way, finally reaching the the edge of the woods, emerging into a bright world he was overjoyed to see again, now out of the dangers of this forest. From what I hear in forest gossip, he went on to slay his enemies, stealing their horses as trophies of his triumph, just as the second spirit had said. Take it from a wise owl: always trust the word of a spirit. After all, they have no reason to lie.
Author's Note:
I chose to do my story over Supernatural: A Teton Ghost Story as I found this story interesting and haunting. I enjoy horror stories and thought I could add a few details to this tale to make it more spooky. I retold the story in the point of view of the owl that the young man first hears in the woods as he travels the warpath. I added details about the two spirits, such as how they died and some information about their backgrounds. I had a lot of fun putting the story into the words of the owl and fleshing out the ghost characters a bit more. Hopefully, the result is enjoyable.
Bibliography: The Indian Who Wrestled with a Ghost, Myths and Legends of the Great Plains by Katharine Berry Judson (1913)
The path he tread I knew was dangerous, haunted by the spirits of war. Attempting to warn him, I called out to him. He turned at my call but continued on.
I followed him through the woods, out of concern. A few minutes later, I heard twigs break underneath me and the man heard, as well. He looked behind him in panic, but saw nothing there.
But I saw her.
Many decades ago, a mother lost her son in war. He fell victim to his enemies, his foot crushed in the struggle by a panicked horse. Dragged along in chains, the young warrior died before reaching the enemy's territory and his body was tossed into a creek not far from where this young man now walked. His mother later perished from grief when he did not return home, her body left on a burial scaffold in these woods, near where her son's body was found.
I now watched as this grief-stricken mother followed behind the young man. After several hours, the sun set and the young traveler prepared to rest, quickly falling asleep.
During the night, I heard the woman grieving her son, crying out for him in the night. She approached the sleeping man and I watched quietly from above as she lifted his foot, dropping it on the ground. He did not stir. She repeated this a few times before reaching behind her and pulling out a knife.
Her laments continued as she placed the knife to the man's foot and began to cut. The young man jumped up in alarm, completely awake now that he risked losing a foot. His screams of panic scared her off and she quickly crawled into the thickets, muttering as she went.
I could not help but to notice that the man did not sleep the rest of the night.
The next morning, I found that curiosity compelled me to continue following the young traveler as he set off once again, this time rather exhausted from his eventful night.
Once more, I soared above him, watching for any signs of otherworldly activity. And once more, I was not disappointed. All those who walk the warpath are destined to encounter wandering spirits looking in death for what they did not have in life.
Several years ago, I witnessed a scene I will never forget. A man was passing through the woods along this path with a group of what I had assumed were his friends. The men were talking and laughing, waking me up from my rest in the middle of the day, much to my annoyance. After they had passed, I fell back asleep only to be awakened a few hours later by a scream of terror.
As I glided along, scanning the forest floor, I saw a rather deep hole in the ground, most likely an abandoned well. Inside, the man I had seen earlier was shrieking and crying out for help. His friends were no where to be seen.
I asked a squirrel what had occurred and he informed me that the man had been shoved into the well by his fellow travelers who then proceeded to pick through the poor man's belongings, taking off with what they deemed valuable, leaving their companion to die.
Disturbed by the man's despair, I left, returning eleven days later to find that the man had starved to death and passed on to the spirit world.
As I now watched the young man camp out for the night, this time with a blazing fire to light his surroundings, I was reminded of that unfortunate soul. As if he were summoned, I glanced down to see the forsaken traveler approach the young man.
The famished man begged for food, to which the young man replied that he had none to give. The strange man then accused him of lying and pointed to some food stowed nearby which, unfortunately for the young man, was quite visible to the intruder. He had no choice but to share with the skeletal man.
After finishing his meal, the stranger asked to use the traveler's pipe the young man was smoking. The rather tired young soul gave in to the man's requests and passed him the pipe. In an act of grotesque pride, the stranger took off his torn shirt to reveal a skeletal frame, devoid of flesh, from which the smoke poured. He laughed at the poor traveler's horrified expression and then challenged him to a wrestling match with the promise that if he bested the spirit, he would be able to vanquish his enemies and steal a wealth of horses.
After getting over his shock at this turn of events, the young man agreed.
I watched as the two struggled. The ghost appeared to have the upper hand, dragging the traveler into the shadows. Suddenly, wild wind roared through the trees, fanning the flames of the traveler's fire. In the resulting flash of light, the spirit lost his strength as light enveloped his bones and he succumbed to the young man's efforts, seemingly melting into the forest floor.
Once again alone, the young traveler stood staring into the woods before collapsing to the ground in exhaustion.
The next morning, he went on his way, finally reaching the the edge of the woods, emerging into a bright world he was overjoyed to see again, now out of the dangers of this forest. From what I hear in forest gossip, he went on to slay his enemies, stealing their horses as trophies of his triumph, just as the second spirit had said. Take it from a wise owl: always trust the word of a spirit. After all, they have no reason to lie.
Photo by Tim Ebbs. Source: Flickr
Author's Note:
I chose to do my story over Supernatural: A Teton Ghost Story as I found this story interesting and haunting. I enjoy horror stories and thought I could add a few details to this tale to make it more spooky. I retold the story in the point of view of the owl that the young man first hears in the woods as he travels the warpath. I added details about the two spirits, such as how they died and some information about their backgrounds. I had a lot of fun putting the story into the words of the owl and fleshing out the ghost characters a bit more. Hopefully, the result is enjoyable.
Bibliography: The Indian Who Wrestled with a Ghost, Myths and Legends of the Great Plains by Katharine Berry Judson (1913)
Wow! This was intense. I loved your choice to write from the owl's perspective, since I feel like it gives the story some cohesiveness that I think the original version lacked. Having a clear narrator gave it more of a sense of context.
ReplyDeleteOne part that I found a little confusing was the flashback to eleven years ago - it was clear that the first few lines were taking place in the past, but when I came to the paragraph beginning with "as I glided along" I wasn't totally sure if we were still in the flashback, or if we were back in the present.
Thanks for sharing!
Your version of the story was even more chilling than the original -- I like the little additions about different spirits and evil deeds. I had a very clear picture in my head of what the events looked like as they took place, great job establishing the mood! I also really liked your choice of making the narrator into an owl. I think it emphasized the eerie, woodsy feel of the tale better than a traditional "floating voice" narration would have.
ReplyDeleteHey Rebecca,
ReplyDeleteI think this story is absolutely wonderful. Creating a story from the perspective of an owl is unique and does a great job to engage your readers. Your variation in sentence structure also does a tremendous job of keeping attention and building intrigue as the story progresses. The perspective of the owl is chilling, in a good way.
-Andy
Hey there Rebecca!
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing this story. First off, I liked how you used the owl to narrate the story. Often times, adding in a narrator can complicate the story, or make it harder to tell what’s going on, but I thought you used it really well.
Secondly, I like the spin you put on this story. For one thing it was a bit darker than the original, and that added a bit more suspense and intrigue. But all in all, I think you did a great job of preserving the original storyline, and didn’t distort it in a negative way in the least.
Also, you gave great attention to detail. The way you described both the character and the forest added a lot to the story. Well done!
All in all, I’m glad this story popped up for me to read this week! Best of luck as you continue in the course!
Best,
- JD