The History of Spirit Rock

November 4, 2016
By KevinC543 BRONZE, Valley Cottage, New York
KevinC543 BRONZE, Valley Cottage, New York
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

“Hurry up,” exclaimed Nokosi, “We’re almost there!”
We were going through Ember’s forest. It was a forest full of naked trees with their leaves scattered on the ground, glistening with raindrops. It was a warm night with a gentle breeze whistling through the air. It was getting late, and I was scared. I could barely see anything and was following my brother just by his voice. 
We were on our way to Spirit Rock, where my brother would receive his adult membership into the tribe. My brother had just turned eighteen and according to tradition at midnight of an eighteenth birthday the teen is given an adult title, and role in the tribe. But as we approached the crest of the hill we heard a series of faint whimpers. 
“What is it?” I say.
“I don’t know, but it doesn't sound good” said Nokosi, as he accelerated towards the top of the Hill. 
“What’s wrong?” But just as the words escaped my mouth I could see why he was upset, our mother was laying on the ground surrounded by a puddle of blood. 
When I glanced up, I saw a white man hiding behind a tree. But before I could say anything he took off, with my brother pursuing him. I stayed back, cradling my Mother in my arms for the last few moments of her life. Tears ran down my cheek, as I knew that my mother wouldn’t live. Then a loud bang echoed through the forest, and a few moments later my brother returns. He was holding the head of the white man. I had never seen him like this, he was a very selfless and compassionate man. It’s like something inside of him snapped. But what he noticed was that that man was a soldier. We immediately ran back to our tribe, but we were too late. There were white men everywhere, fighting against my tribe. Luckily my tribe was successful and drove them away, but at a huge cost. Our chief, Sakima died, but he was more than just a chief to me. Sakima is my father.
I will never forget that infamous day, but that was a while ago, and we are older now. I am now fifteen and Nokosi is twenty-five. Over the course of the last seven years, Nokosi has become an amazing warrior and the best strategist our tribe has ever seen. Nokosi had just been given the title of general. He is now in charge of the army of our entire tribe consisting of eight hundred soldiers. I had just started my preparations for my venture to spirit rock with my best friend, Chapa. Chapa was a very intelligent person, but also a crazy one. One time he wrestled a cub, just to get his favorite flower back that the cub had taken. 
Over the years our tribe has gained a few white men such as Joe a doctor, Keith a author, and James a Blacksmith. They all have embraced our culture and are considered to be members of the tribe.
“Ahote, come here.” Announced Nokosi.
“As you know, I have just become general. This gives me power to make certain choices for the tribe.”
“What do you mean?” 
“I mean that I am going to war with the white men of New Amsterdam, and I want you to be alongside me in case anything happens to me.”
“But,” Whack, my brother slaps me.
“There will be no “buts,” you are to go.”
I knew that this person was not my brother,  he seeks vengeance and nothing else. But I also knew that we couldn’t do that to the white people. They were nice to us, especially the ones in the tribe. Keith taught me how to read, and James taught me how to make a sword. At that moment I realized I wanted nothing to do with my brother, and his quest for vengeance. That night I slipped away like an eel in the hands of an anxious racoon.
“Keith,” I whispered, “let me in, I have important news.”
“What is it Ahote?” replied the Kindly Knowledgeable Keith.
“We have to go at once! Get Joe and James and meet me by Howler’s rock!”
“Fine, but you better have a good reason.” Slam,the door shut, and Ahote disappeared into the darkness.
A few hours later, just as the sun had opened the curtains of night, they all met at Howler’s rock.  There was confusion, and curiosity amongst all of them.
“Why are we here?” asked James.
“It’s because of my brother,” Ahote let out a sign of depression, “He’s changed, and now he wishes to attack the men of New Amsterdam.”
“Well then, why are waiting. We must warn them!”
“But what about Nokosi, he is my Brother after all?”
“There is no helping him, even the thought of war with New Amsterdam demands the death of who thought it. Whether you come with us or not, we are going.”
The air got stale, as if all emotion had been sucked out of the atmosphere. Ahote understood that the only way to save his brother would be to kill the men, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He let them go, immediately regretting his decision. He ran back to his tribe, and entered his brothers hut. As he entered he heard a faint noise that slowly and steadily increased into a ferocious growl.
“Boy, where are they?”
“I’m sorry, but I couldn't bear to watch you harm innocent people.”
A tear escaped from his eye and was rolling down his face as he pleaded his brother for forgiveness. But he had angered him. Phew, the first of Nokosi sent Ahote dancing like an ember in a dying fire. He fell to the ground and laid there. When he woke he heard the battle drums of the Indians, and the horns of the white men. They were about to start fighting soon.
Ahote snuck up near the battlefield, and hid behind a bush to spectate the events. Each side gave motivational speeches, but I was unable to hear them. The speeches must have been effective, because both sides were roaring with excitement. The ferocious drums began to roar, drowning out all horns. Immediately the indians rushed down the hill.
Swords were being slashed around, and spears were being chucked. The White men were obviously losing. I crept closer to the battlefield and noticed something very strange, their army was composed of teenagers. That means their adults must be planning an attack. Upon this realization I emerged from the bushes and ran towards my brother.
“They are planning an ambush, brace yourselves!”
I was too late. The adults emerged from all sides and overwhelmed my tribe. It was a slaughter! Aftera mere minute all that remained was Nokosi, Chapa, and I. We knew there was no hope left so we decided to go out with a fight. We all yelled and fought back, but there was too many. I felt a bullet burrow itself into my heart, And as my eyes were open for the last time I saw My brother and Chapa share the same fate as me. We had all died, but we have died as warriors.

The author's comments:

What inspired me to write this piece was my love and interest in the cultural conflicts between colonists and Native Americans.

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