Indigenous‍ ‍

by Finley O’Shell

Decades ago, the Lakota tribe resided on Black Hills. Their vast territories held gold. After discovering this, the American government interfered. Within years, the Lakota people were removed from their homes. The removal was barbaric, especially for women and children. During colonization, they faced assault, sexual violence, and trafficking. Out of these painful ashes, a vengeful force rose; the Deer Woman.

A lone driver droned down the backroads. Between surrounding brush, he spotted a woman walking aside the street. He slowed to her pace. Ogling at her figure, he noted the style of her beaded hide. “Need a ride?” He called out. The lady shook her head. “Long walk to town.” He insisted. “I’ve got a place a few miles from here.” He waited for a response. The woman peered at him, halting.  He stepped into the dark lane. “I’ll get that for you.” He held the door firmly, gesturing her to enter. The man glimpsed down, aghast. “Your feet…” His eyes widened, tracing her cloven hooves. He stared at her face, disillusioned. “What are you?”

By morning, police had arrived. The only remnants of the scene was a car, door torn off the hinges, and a crimson trail leading to the woods. The people were not safe on the roads.

Everyone was on edge. Now, there was something real to fear. At night, people coped with stress in typical ways; smoking, drinking, clubbing, and so on. Tonight, a local saloon teemed with customers.

The saloon roared with music and drunken laughter. A group of men dared one another to approach a lone woman. ¨The worst she can say is no,¨ he trailed off. ¨Even then, it doesn’t mean anything.¨ The coterie chuckled as he approached, eyes bore through her sleek black hair as if to burn a hole through. He grabbed her shoulder, drink in hand, maintaining eye contact. “I got you a drink.” He pushed forward. The cloudy drink rattled as she gazed. Waving her hand, she dismissed him. He set the drink down, knuckles discolored. “You won’t even thank me?” He straightened. She regarded the drink again, sipping it. The man finally settled, chattering at her with no response. He grew anxious, noticing the woman’s pale face. “Are you feeling okay?” He questioned. The lady danced through the crowd towards the back door. Silently, he followed. He caught the door before it shut. He grinned as he scrutinized the woman, buckled over and grasping her temples. Again, he reached further, clasping her shoulder. In an instant, her head swiveled, along with velvety antlers. Feeling the clack of bone, he stumbled back. He could only stare in awe.

Nobody questioned when the man toddled off; Though after closing, a worker came upon stains tapering off into the trees. The days following were filled with silence; from his phone, friends, and family. No one wanted to recognize what happened. The people were not safe among each other.

Black Hills, as any other town, had a council. Among this committee was a respected man. He acted as a symbol of honor in his family and community. This wealth, both in company and money, granted him acres of land.Seeking relief from his esteem, he took to the woods to hunt. 

He wasn’t expecting to find a woman. Lean and alluring, she walked near his property. He closed in, rifle clutched. “Do you know where you are?” She turned as the man stormed over. “You’re trespassing.” She stepped back. “What’re you doing out here?” He filled the gap, grunting. Expecting fear, he grasped his rifle. Instead, the lady evaded, walking away. Shoving his burly hands forward, he knocked the woman down. She struggled on the ground as he fiddled with the gun. She twisted, facing the terrible man. Rather than frightful, her eyes were fawn-like. Captivated, the man stared. “You’re not…” Stammering, the man watched her mirage. Yet, when the haze lifted, it was not a woman; a terrifically august hybrid presented herself. 

The family could not figure out what had happened. It seemed a horrid accident; little was left of the councilman. Even so, the family did not dawdle on his death. The people were not safe in their homes.

The following months were calm. The former territory had a lingering stillness, as if something had been rid from them. It went unspoken. 

Nonetheless, nature moved on. Spring ensued, and so did celebration. Members of the town gathered for a powwow, coming alive with passion. Donned regalia and drums, the commemoration began. A single woman leapt from the crowd, following the dance before resting. Viewing the talented dancers, she nearly didn’t see the girl approaching. “Hello!” She waved. “Can I dance with you?” The woman beamed, getting to her feet. The girl’s aura was pure innocence, almost disrupted by a man leering from behind. 

Submerging her seething rage, the woman’s maw gaped as if she had never spoken before. “Haŋ.” She smiled, slipping past the girl.

The women were safe.

Finley O’Shell’s Biography

I'm an 8th grade student at Isle of Wight Academy. I've always loved the arts; drawing, painting, writing, etc. Between my writing and academic work, I thoroughly enjoy horse riding across SEVA and volunteering at DITR and school extracurriculars. I've participated in Student Councils, Junior Honor Society, AVA and national writing contests, and Key Club.
I was inspired to write "Indigenous" by the history and culture of Native Americans. The "Deer Woman" is a more common spirit in Indigenous American cultures, most recently popularized by social media and retellings. Her story is empowering to all women, especiall those who have faced violence or prejudice. 
I'd like to thank my past and present English teachers: Maggie Baise, Amanda Keith, Janssen Major, and Lindsey Lotz. I would be nowhere without your motivation. With their lessons in mind, I hope to show that a lot of grit can come from a small-town heart.