The Great Fall

By: Mr. Saunders

It was a cool, brisk, afternoon in October. I was an eleven year old boy living in western Pennsylvania with my mother and three younger sisters. My father had died the previous year after losing an awful bout with pneumonia. The entire family had prayed for him to come back to good health but to no avail. Upon my father's death, I immediately assumed the role of man of the house. With this title came many added responsibilities, and unfortunately for my family I was unable to act in a very responsible manner that cool, brisk, afternoon in October.

Having lived in a frontier region of western Pennsylvania, we had not yet acquired many neighbors. As a matter of fact, I do not recall a single person living within a two day walk from our cabin. This was one of the main reasons why my mother constantly reminded me never to venture to far from the cabin. She would often times remind me of the numerous black bears and other wild animal inhabiting the area as well as the threat of hostile Indians.

At that time in my life I had seen my fair share of wild animals, but believe it or not, I had never once seen an Indian. I was fascinated with them though, and before the death of my father, I would frequently ask him to tell me all the incredible Indian stories he had experienced growing up. It was truly amazing that the Indians that my father spoke of lived basically in our back yard. He would more often times than not, describe the Indians as barbaric savages, who would scalp a white man, and kill his women and children without even batting an eye lash.

Anyway, let me get back to the story at hand. It just so happened that on that cool, brisk, afternoon in October I decided to go on a little adventure hike. The forest in the area where I lived filled me with wonderment. Having no friends to speak of, with the exception of my immediate family, I would often get lonely. My mother taught me how to read and write. How I loved to read. This enabled me to expand my creativity, and imagination to the fullest. My favorite book was entitled Peter the Great Explorer which my busy mother would read to me many times before bed, only after having read excerpts from the family bible. Whenever I was not out helping to harvest the wheat, or doing other house hold chores, I would have a book in hand. A lot of times I was forced to read the same book over and over seeing that we had very few.

Needless to say, I actually had some free time that October afternoon to explore the vast forest surrounding our cabin. I made believe that I was Peter the Great Explorer in search of a new, unruly land. I think I may have been searching for lost treasure or a glimpse of the white unicorn, but that is beside the point.

I remember running through the forest, the sun giving off a strange, yellowish, glow high above the canopy of trees. I was in a world that was all mine, and mine alone. Not a soul to be seen or heard for miles. All was quiet except for the sound of dead leaves crunching beneath my feet.

As I made my way further into the dense woods, I recall my mother's voice inside my head telling me not to venture past the huge stone which jutted out of the earth like a huge pyramid. I did not heed her words, and knew that I would be punished severely for disobeying her. I remember thinking to myself, how would she find out anyway? I'll be back home before dusk, and she will never suspect a thing. I'm an explorer, and we explorers know no boundaries.

That may or may not have been the worst decision that I ever made. I was in search of something unique and that is what I was about to find.

Now this is the part of my story that I have trouble remembering. After having disobeyed my mother by passing far beyond the limits of that ominous looking rock pyramid whose peak often seemed enveloped in the clouds or encompassed by the rays of bright sunlight, I suddenly fell.

I never saw it coming. It came upon me with such quickness that I had no time to react. I had stumbled off of an unseen cliff that had been shrouded in an eerie fog. As I fell off the cliff, it seemed for a second that if I would have flapped my arms I might have been able to fly safely to the bottom. Unfortunately, I was not a bird and my body was comprised of flesh and bone rather than wings and feathers. Before hitting the base of the cliff, I recall for a brief instant, seeing and envying a figure who did in fact, possess a large array of colorful feathers. That is all I remember and soon there was nothing but darkness. A very cold, yet soothing darkness.

I awoke to find myself in what seemed to be an extremely long, wooden house. I was laying on the floor of the house and was covered in deerskin. I was terrified. I thought that I had died and had gone to another life that was not my own. The throbbing in my head pounded rhythmically with that of a drum that was being beaten just outside the long house. There was a man, woman, and boy in the house. They all had copper colored skin and wore red paint on various sections of their face and bodies which made their skin appear more red than copper in color.

The man and woman were locked in what seemed to be and organized argument. Not the same type of disagreement that I had witnessed among my parents, where there was often screaming, hitting, and crying, but more of a gentlemanly dispute. The thing that surprised me the most was that the woman Indian seemed to have won the dispute and that was the end of it. It was never brought up again. I later found out that the male Indian was concerned that I may have been carrying one of the many diseases that had been killing off many of their clan. Diseases such as measles, small pox, and tuberculosis. Not to mention the fact that I was offspring to the same people that were taking their land away from them.

After I was nursed back to health, I was slowly assimilated into the Onhwanonhsioni tribe, more commonly referred to as the Iroquois, since they speak the language known as Iroquoian. The Onhwanonhsioni people were a far cry from how my father had described them. They were not barbaric or savage in any way. They were extremely passionate and caring. They were however, fierce fighters who fought diligently for what they believed in.

Ever since I was taken in by these Indians eight years ago, I have learned to love them, and have begun to see that many of those in the white society are the true savages. The white man is trying to take away the land that "my people" have owned for thousands of years before the arrival of the Europeans.

The Iroquois have taught me the art of hunting and fishing, and I have been able to learn and master their language as well. They have taught me how to plant food and use dead fish to fertilize the soil. They place little to no restrictions on me, or any of their young for that matter. At the age of fourteen I underwent a test of strength and bravery. I went without food for many moons, and was able to survive on my own in the wilderness. During this initiation ceremony I had a vision of a spirit that has become my lifelong guardian.

I am now truly Iroquois. I still however, venture out into the white mans sector at times in order to trade animal hides and fur. I always trade for something that I can truly use. Whenever the opportunity arises that I can acquire a book or novel from someone I make sure to take advantage of it. I am hoping that by reading various pieces of literature I may sometime be able to use the knowledge learned in order to help the Iroquois people in some way or another.

Just recently, I came across a pioneer who possessed a book that my mother had read to me quite frequently when I was a young boy. I traded some rabbit fur for the book, and later came across the location of that great rock pyramid that did not appear as large or threatening as I once remember it being. There were now numerous white folks whom have moved, so it took me sometime before I was able to locate my mother's cabin. As I peered through some bushes overlooking my mother's cabin, I was happy to see that she did in fact remarry. After all was clear I crept up to the door, laid the book that I had acquired from the pioneer on the doorstep, knocked three times, and ran back into the forest. Having left the book on the door step was just a way to let my mother know that after all these years her son is alright. I often wonder though what was running through her mind when she opened the door only to find a withered copy of Peter the Great Explorer on her door step.

On occasion I had actually thought it my duty to return to the cabin, but I quickly abandoned that thought. Deep down I know I would not have been able to live with that decision. My place is with the Iroquois, and I am ready to fight to my death in order to protect the rightful land of the Iroquois.

I am now approaching the age of twenty and my Indian family has chosen me a partner unto which I will marry. I know that I will be able to love this girl eventually, for she is everything that I want in a wife. The marriage will take place this afternoon. The gods have been good to me, for I could not have asked for a more beautiful day than this cool, brisk, afternoon in October.

-The End