HEY GUYS!!!
So, for one of my final projects for Native American Literature, I had to do a presentation of my choosing about any Native American topic we learned in class. I at first was going to do the history of the Lakota Souix indians, but lost my flashdrive. It then came to me that I could kill two birds with one stone, so what I decided to do (though kinda stupid since I'm already working on two stories, publishing one, and composing a book of poems and short stories) was rewrite a book from my past (about 5 years) AND make it a part of my project.
BRIEF BACKGROUND:
-It has to do with Navajo legend of the Skinwalker
-Because of the maximum time and length of the report having to be 5 pages, there's not much of a background on the characters, so I will say this:
+My name is Caleb (my pen is Ghost)
+Two of my good friends at the time who inspired this story are in here (Sam and Brandon)
+I put my current crush in here (her real name is anonymous, but she LOVES Wicked the Musical, so I call her Elphie)
-There are only 3 real people, excluding myself, in this story, everyone else is imagined up
-This is a representation of Oklahoma, but please accept that this too is partially imagined up
Tell me what you think of it. Hope you like it :) ☺☻
PS. I put the rating as PG and if I continue, I'll try and keep it that way, but some likely this may change to PG-13 due to slight language and content
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“You can’t do this,” the young man−Caleb Churchill, the Ghost—said to the agent. “You have no idea what you are up against.”
“We can and we will,” the agent, Alec Connors—special division of the president’s metahuman task force—responds. “We have signed orders from the president to take over your little...operation.”
“I doubt the president would have just signed orders without knowing completely what he’s up against,” Terra cuts in annoyed.
“This is not just your average run in the park pick-up-and-neutralize operation, Agent Connors,” Chamber tries to explain. “We, the Titans, are having problems with this one figure. Not to mention the fact that none of our psychics can put a finger on it, and Shock—Ghost—here, having a dark spirit, can’t pick out him or her. Please, for your sake, pull back. You’ll only get you and your men killed.”
Connors laughs. “You Titans are such hypocrites. You have left a trail of destruction that good tax dollars have had to, and still are, clean up. You then employ more children to do the same for you, and you think that we’re the amateurs here?”
“Watch it, baka,” Sierra Akairo—Ghost’s former apprentice, Seirei—points her finger in the agent’s face, “agent or not, we still deserve respect.”
“No you watch it, little girl,” Agent Connors yells at Seirei, “I breathe one word, and I’ll have all you freaks of nature shut down for business.”
Before Seirei can say anything else, or do something worse, Ghost pulls her back. She says nothing, just sighs angrily as she steps behind him.
“Connors,” Ghost begins calmly, “I know we’ve had our differences over the course of the years, and I know you may not trust me—us—but right now, I am asking you, for the sake of your men, the president, or just for your own sake, to reconsider. Whatever this person or thing is that is out there, it’s tricky to track down or catch. It has killed more than 400 people and animals in the last three years, including some of the Guardian’s best men and women, it is very dangerous.”
