The Wide West- a story about the Dakota

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family, fiction, life, short-story, writing

On the Highway

The road on Highway 90 pulled in length since I was on the run because of an event in Baraboo/Wisconsin. It took me around two hours to cross the Mississippi and reach Minnesota. Although I could drive a little faster here than in Wisconsin, the time was still passing in agonizing slowness. That was certainly caused by my situation. Tomorrow I had to go to prison, but I was going to run away and escape to some places that promised to offer me some inner shelter. The inattentiveness of one moment had caused a disaster I could only run away from. I will never forget that day when it happened. Even in the night before, something strange happened, something like a warning.

I woke up in my bed and looked up to the ceiling, where the shadows of the trees were moving. They swung outside, silently rustling in the night’s wind back and forth. These patterns had cradled me several nights into sleep, but not this time, not this night.

I had never tried to find anything particular in this tangle of forms. But one night I saw for the first time the shadow of an animal scurry through this carpet of light- and-shadow cluster. There was a little forest surrounding our house but the lamps of the nearby street shone into it. Maybe it was a cat, a bird or a squirrel, who knows. Whatever it had been, it left me with some assumptions until I fell back into sleep. But today it was different. There appeared a big powerful shadow on the ceiling that covered almost half of the illuminated surface. It moved slowly with intense force in ominous slowness and disappeared again. Whatever it was, it could have been directly on our house. We were here in Wisconsin on the outer slopes of a mountain range. In its center high above the plane lands was the Devil’s Lake, a deep mysterious water hole with rock cliffs surrounding it. The Ho Chunk, the local Indians had called it Spirit Lake, because they had been able to hear spirits during their ceremonies up there. On its shores there were ancient animal gestalt arts made of earth, heaped and overgrown with grass, especially of bears and jaguars. The high quartzite rose rocks on the steep slopes of Devil’s Lake changed their color all the time, oscillating between white and red, two colors that were sacred to the Indians. I had some sacred moments in the Devil’s Lake area. One was during heavy snowfall. I went out and moved uphill into the park. The walk was arduous, because of the deep snow and nobody else dared to do it. To be alone inside the valley on the lake’s shore was an amazing experience. I could hear the snow falling and some of the big black birds crying, nothing else. In the distant I saw a strange black animal prowling down the edge of the steep slope covered with trees and rocks. Was it a bear, a cat or a wolf? I did not try to find out and went in the other direction. The other time seeing the park without people was in the summer. It was after a strong rain. The rain was so heavy that houses were washed away by the Wisconsin River, which was even shown in the world news. My car had no working windshield wipers, but I still tried to drive during this rain, seeing only a blurry light in the middle of the street. I made it home somehow. Because the wipers of my old car could not be repaired by my friend I had to drive fast during snowfall in the winter. In this way the front windows were cleared by the wind. In Wisconsin it was not necessary to let cars be checked technical by any official agency now and then and any car insurance was also not obligatory. That led to possible bad surprises when we drove each other’s cars. One time I found out shortly before the red traffic lights that the car I drove had almost no functioning brakes, but I still managed to stop in time. Some weeks after the heavy rain I went to the Devil’s Lake Park with a girl, but it was still closed. We did not care about it and walked down to the lake. The big black birds that were usually high above the water were flying now on a day without visitors very close. My friend and I were sitting on the rocky bank of the river enjoyed a day alone in this usually crowded area until a police officer caught us and gave us a fine for a hundred and ninety-five dollars for entering this closed area. A friend advised me to go to court to try to lower this and I did. The first thought was for me as a former East German that nobody asked me for my identity card when I entered. So I could have gone easily in place of someone else. The other astonishing thing was that the judge let always five people stand up at the same time, listened to their statements and made a decision. Before coming forward he read a charge like this: “The state of Wisconsin against—” Most of the other cases were young people who were caught drinking alcohol under the age of twenty-one. They had a choice between a fine of two hundred and eighty-five dollars and a registration as a criminal in the records or participation within a police monitored program against alcohol. This program was lasting a half a year and they all chose it. The judge was listening to my excuse also. I said I had overlooked the sign, but he waved me aside. “I hear these stories for weeks now, I give you five dollars less. That’s it.”

My memories returned and I still wondered what a big animal could have thrown such a massive shadow and felt a slight horror. Was it a bear or a jaguar, or even a crazy person? Was it the same animal I had seen in the snowstorm? Or was it the old chief? The old chief was the spirit of an ancient shaman who had his place of residence on the other side of my town Baraboo and showed up sometimes during spiritual rituals in the area. This place was a monument called the Man Mount. There was a big humanoid figure on the ground, with perceptible energetic marks for each level of the body. Only his legs were cut off by a nearby road. Here I was often with my friends from the vegetarian restaurant in Baraboo to take in that energy. This whole part of Wisconsin had many interesting places to go. There were hundreds of other earth-made monuments with strange energies in the area and sometimes my friends and I saw the natives sitting on top of them. The history of the Ho Chunk and other tribes were always part of that. The Ho Chunk were lucky enough to have a casino on Highway 12. They earned up to two hundred million dollars each year and could give every member of their tribe free income. They still had to fight alcoholism and other issues.

On the next day I drove the road to the center of the town. It was easy to speed up to fast. Suddenly I had the strange impression that something was going to happen. The time had changed its texture and pace. Maybe there was a waking call, I did not hear.

I looked after a pretty woman walking slowly on the left side. I wanted to see her face, because of her nice body. But I never saw her face even though I waited seemingly hours to see it. As I finally turned away from her I saw a girl running over the road in front of me. The child was so close that I could not stop the car. I braked as hard as I could. The brake pedal pushed back a bit in order to prevent locking of the wheels. And the child, this beautiful curly brown-haired child, stared at me like she was frozen without attempting to run back. I slid within a long moment of even slower elapsing time, without having time for action any more. Then the terrible impact happened. The car came to a stop, I jumped out and heard already the mother screaming. That was the worst thing I had ever heard. She pulled the child away from the car and lifted her. The girl was bleeding and lifeless; her face became pale within seconds. Her breath was sharp and short with long seconds without breathing. Her eyes stared blankly up to the sky. A man took her and laid her back on the road. We stood there, stunned, I devastated beyond measure, while the mother only cried, “Mary! Mary!” She held her hand and then the girl released her last breath. Whatever had given life to her body departed and rendered the body meaningless. A part of me went with it as well. She left me like dead. The ambulance finally came and took the body into their care and drove away, together with the mother. The police took me for an interview into their station. I had not much to say. I did not mention the woman on the street. After the accident she was gone anyway, as if she had never existed. But my attempt to cover up my speed and distraction failed miserably. The native-looking police officers did not believe in what I said. He knew that I was trying to talk myself out of the case. “You went at least forty miles. We will investigate the rubber marks.” The alcohol sample showed that I was sober, so there was no clear offense. But my mind condemned me. When they released me, I took a taxi home. Of course they had confiscated my demolished car. At home I was alone. My girlfriend was at work. That was good. Now in this moment I was honest enough to see why the accident happened. I was not giving enough attention to anything. I liked to be washed away by my thoughts and fantasies. I was dreaming my life away. The persons around me disturbed me when I was on my trips. That included my girlfriend Chelsey. Now I could see that I had failed my relationship and also the little girl on the street. I did not consider myself worthy of living any more. Should I take my life? I was not sure yet. But I was going back to my job. Because I was not able to think well I changed to the dishwasher, what I did for the final weeks. My colleges and friends tried to lift my spirit up again, but that was not very successful. A part in me was gone or dead. It was as if only the half of me was still there. When I came back home I could not talk much, but had to go out into the forests of the Devil’s Lake massive. I saw strange things in the deep forest, when I left the official tracks behind. I saw one time a creature that reminded me at the Wisconsin Dogman, an animal on two legs with a dog had, that jumped in the distant over the pathway. I also sensed eyes of ancient people looking at me from behind the brunches. This and other sightings happened within a different spatial texture than normal perceptions. It was similar what happened during the accident. First the flow of time slowed down. Then the surrounding world was melting into a big pot in which I was swimming like a potato. From this strange soup things and impressions popped up into my awareness as if they were part of my recipe.

When I came back home I was still in a different mindset. Chelsey could not cope with me any more. This was all too much. Sometimes she was crying about this situation or very angry. I tried to caress her, but my heart was absent and she rejected me more and more, feeling my coldness. Finally she left the house. She went back to her Parents in Reedsburg. Some days later I had to go the Court of Sauk County, Baraboo for the accident. This time I had to stand up alone and it was not funny any more. The judge was unfortunately a woman. The girl’s mother was crying on the other side and her lawyer looked at me like an enemy and worst criminal. It was not going well. My defender, a thin, pale young lawyer, was certainly a disaster. He was timid and also not really on my side. And he was too affected by the emotional answers of the mother. Her lawyer tried to paint a picture of a careless person. The missing windshield wipers on my car gave him an important argument to prove that, as well as the fact that my car had no insurance. The judge followed him in this and showed no mercy. She gave me one year of prison. I was stunned and did not know what to do. I walked up the street far around the area of the accident into my house. My thoughts were so painful that I tried not the think at all. But I could not stop them. They were attacking me, telling me what a worthless person I was. This was the button of a downward spiral. How could I even imagine to survive the strange and cramped social life in jail? They would give me the last kick. Could I do that not better by myself? But to take my life was no easy decision to take. I had to run away, to win some days or weeks in order to make a decision. Even I saw no hope anywhere I still could give myself a last journey to the places I always wanted to visit.

I sold my red Toyota and bought another car, a dark blue Ford of the nineties and parked it some streets away from my house. One night I drove the car home late. I did not want anyone to know how my new car looked like. It was time to take off.

But first I had to sleep a bit. The night came and I sank deeper and deeper into a cloud that wanted to engulf me. I saw again the night-time shadows and reflections on my ceiling. Then I suddenly saw him again, this powerful shadow that could not slip through unrecognized. He was there, I was not mistaken. I jumped out of bed. I ran outside the house from where the light had fallen into my bedroom. I looked around. I did not have to look far. There was the dark body in the middle of the small nearby thicket, which was illuminated by streetlight further down the slope. It was the silhouette of a panther. And he crept slowly with rapt attention in my direction, as if he had been waiting for me already for a while. I stopped and froze into a piece of ice. The panther ran out of the woods but slowed down in front of me. He snarled, staring at me with his yellow eyes that seemed to glow. His black coat shone like silk in the pale light of the street lamp. Now he had waited enough, he jumped at me, threw me on the floor and grabbed me with his powerful jaws on my throat. He did it gently, tentatively. Perhaps he searched for the right starting point for the decisive bite. But the door of the house was pushed open vigorously. The panther winced. I could feel the shock in his body. “Frank! Frank!” yelled Chelsey. The panther froze. His wheezing was his only sign of life. Then I heard Chelsey unlock my gun, my Smith & Wesson revolver. It was this cold clicking, which had always chased me a shiver when she had played with it. But now it filled me with joy. Her footsteps approached the panther and me slowly. The panther ducked himself deeper into the grass, his breathing got stronger. The tension increased with each step she made. Then there was a moment of silence. I suspected that she looked at the panther and he at her. He growled softly.

“Go away! You have five seconds,” said Chelsey with a low but firm voice. Then silence again. Slowly the panther opened his mighty jaws and let me go. Another deep fetid breath of disappointment and anger in my face and he jumped away. I woke up and found myself on the floor beside my bed. An inside thought tore my heart apart: Chelsey had really loved me! And I was not able to keep her in my life. But this had been anything but a dream, precise and very realistic as it was. How could that happen? I took my Smith & Wesson and ran out of the house. There I was in the nightly forest again, but this time it was empty and without appeal or danger. Just an empty meaningless forest. Someone had described the situation between the olive trees of Gethsemane in Jesus’ night of agony exactly like this. There were no angels, but leaves rustling in the night wind.

For me it was to time to move on. I packed my stuff into the car and went down the hill, direction Highway 12 and Interstate 90. Today was the day I had to go to the correction institution on Fox Lake. I had exchanged the plates with some old ones I had collected at a junk yard and hoped to be safe for a while. I did not think much. My eyes where fixed on the highway. When I crossed the Mississippi at Lacrosse the first daylight appeared in the east horizon behind me.

The only place I wanted to visit in Minnesota was the little national park of Pipestone. This was a sacred ground to many North American Indian tribes. It was not a unknown place to me thanks to some books I read in my childhood. My childhood turned into a kind of dreamtime after opening the first of these books. One friend of mine had recommended me this novel about the Dakota, written for children by German authorLiselotte Welskopf-Hendrich. She wrote her stories as if she had lived with the Sioux. In response to this unique corpus of literature which consists of eleven books the tribes gave her the high honor of a Lakota-Tashina, a Protecting blanket of the Dakota. I remember still the day when I opened her first book called Harka, about a Dakota boy living within the Black Hills. The story began with his initiation into a deep and holy cave where the mythical totem mother bear of the tribe was hiding and also gold which led to a tragic turn of circumstances. The point of view of a native changed my thought system forever. I felt like standing on the edge of a big and mysterious forest, accessible for myself only. From here I watched the life in the cities of western civilization without the need to be totally engaged. Since these enchanted weeks of reading the five books of the tribe’s history until its surrender to the Indian Agency I was looking for something lost, that was shining out of these pages.

It was a mix of mystery, joy, adventure, wild nature and a sense of coming home, a search that led me trough many countries even until here.

A spirit bird had called them in ancient times to use this quarry together in peace in order to gather the red stone for their ceremonial pipes.

I remembered the story of the first Dakota pipe. It was given by a holy woman, the White Buffalo Calf Woman, who appeared to two hunters who were desperately looking for prey, trying to help their starving people. One of the young warriors fell in love with the shining attractive maiden and died when he tried to approach her; the other recognized her as a sacred messenger and listened with an open mind. She came later to the village herself and gave the people the first pipe of the Sioux, the Chanunpa which was made out of buffalo bones and also the seven rites to perform with it. All the following pipes were made out of the pipestone, which was collected only here in Pipestone, South West Minnesota. The great medicine man of the twentieth century, John Fire Lame Deer, could this first original Chanunpa. He was called to meet the pipe keeper, an old woman, but there was a heavy snowstorm that night. Even though he could not see anything he found the tipi. The woman allowed him not to smoke this original pipe but only to hold it and to pray with it. He said all illusions fell away from him in this moment and he could understand reality.

I had a pipe myself, given me by an elderly friend who had been a student of a Dakota medicine woman long parts of his life. Now I did not know what to pray for any more. I carried it with me during my little walk. First I entered the shop. They were pipes and other pieces of carving for sale. I was surprised. But the pipe had become a part of today’s spiritual culture, even if there was only this one of mine known in the world.

The terrain was beautiful. There was a little river and a lot of grey and red rocks. But the pipestone mine was hidden. The Indians had special admission to gather it, but no one else. When I was standing between the rocks an old man suddenly spoke to me, whom I had not seen before. He was like Shrek to me; the dream of tonight was still in my bones. He was one of these elderly natives with jeans, dark blue jacket, cowboy boots, glasses and black braids. “What do you have the pipe for, son?” I shrugged, feeling like an intruder. “Do you know what you want to pray for?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“If I were you, I’d know what to pray for,” he smiled, nodded and walked away. I went away, without prayer. I was not able to raise my spirit enough to face some light. What should I ask for when the past was already written in stone?

Samantha

Finally I reached South Dakota. This state had a part of the Great Plains, which were now divided by fences. Buffalos I did not see but there were some in the Black Hills and Yellowstone National Park. Then, finally I saw the Badlands.

Behind them I could see the Black Hills and probably some foothills of the Rocky Mountains in the distance. Maybe here I could stay for some days. Maybe I would move further west later. I reached an exit on Highway 96 and followed the road until I came into a little town. The first thing I noticed was emptiness. Wind was blowing dried bushes through the streets and nobody was outside.

I drove, searching for a hotel. It took me a while to find one. It was one of these places created without love, a bit shabby and down-at-heel which was not uncommon to this culture. Since the times of the big trail west everything had to be built fast and cheap in order to be left behind again. The hotel was painted in gray blue, but lost its color a while ago. Space, the final frontier, I thought and remembered my childhood experience of the Star Trek series on West German TV. It was black and white and full of mysteries. In that time we believed in a better future and the wonders of a technical revolution which would solve all problems. That optimism was gone long ago. Now it was different. Anything without significance like unoccupied space became a tread for a mind that depended on constant simulation by all kinds of media. For me a space without people was okay. The Badlands looked like my future residence, I joked smilingly with myself and entered that hotel. The blond middle aged woman at the front desk served me without much excitement, even though there were not many customers at this time of the year. I threw myself on the bed and took a well-deserved siesta.

After an hour, I got up and looked out of the window. The day was very gray. The time just before winter had always been the bleakest for me. Maybe I should have a beer, I thought, to calm my soul down a bit. So I got into my car and drove through the village. The darkness of this late cloudy October afternoon enveloped me, and covered the world with a thinly veil of despair. Against this darkness I could do nothing.

The hick town consisted of some new houses, rundown trailers and abandoned cabins, gutted cars and wooden board piles. A cold wind blew through the big open spaces from the north. Here was much of what was no longer needed, simply left to decay. About the appearance of this kind of villages and towns the locals did not think much. They withdrew into their tiny private spaces instead. Here I was absolutely right. There was nothing left to be achieved except the desire to forget. Maybe I should go to jail for that one year. But I could not face that decision. The only bar was quickly found thanks to its red light. I sat at the bar, where a Mexican-looking girl was waiting for the rare customers.

“A beer, please.”

“Sure!”

I drank my beer in silence. The bar girl moved bottles. Around a dozen other people were there, seemingly whites who lived here. I moved away from the bar and sat on a table next to a very beautiful native girl who was drinking a cola and writing on her smart phone. She seemed not to be in the best mood. Her throat was totally covered with a scarf and she coughed a lot. She also rested her head on a hand and sighed almost all the time. It took me a while and another beer to ask her a question. “Hi, excuse me. How far is to the Pine Ridge Reservation?”

She looked at me in a disturbed manner. “I am not from here. But it should be right behind the village,” she murmured.

“I understand. Maybe I will visit Wounded Knee tomorrow,” I said. She did not react, returning her eyes back to her phone. Her beauty was breathtaking. Even her sadness was intense. I wanted to ask her what was wrong, but I did not dare. She continued to write messages into her phone until she took her jacket and her backpack, paid at the bar and left. I followed her with my eyes. She was such a young girl and already so lost. And there was nobody here to help her. A wave of sadness washed over me. The waitress gave me another beer, without asking. I got better slowly. So I managed to pay and drove to my hotel. But the night was not easy. I found myself standing on a white round valley floor and walking towards a nearby mountain. A girl was walking before me. I could only see her long black hair. But the ground was shaking. The plates of gray rock started to separate as if they were like ice plates on a river in the spring. Between them appeared bright shining lava, hot and dangerous. The girl started to run. She jumped easily over the burning gaps and escaped into the nearby mountains. But I was scared and looked back. There I saw a group of wolves approaching me. They jumped easily over the gaps. I started to run too; even I was afraid. The gaps became bigger and bigger until I was trapped on a big plaice of rock, surrounded by lava. I saw the wolves encircle me. They were angry but happy to catch me finally. The biggest wolf jumped on my rock and growled at me. The others followed him one by one, until I was surrounded by their hot breath. More of this dream I could not take and woke up.

The morning came, gray and quiet. It was the hour before dawn when I left the motel and drove to the nearby Badlands. I parked the car and walked into the hills. The gray sedimentary hills were exhausted by erosion. They shone pale like bones in the twilight of the morning. It was so quite I could only hear my steps and the trucks of the close Interstate 90. Some crows landed on a tip close to me. I could hear the flutter of their wings. Their croaking moved through the hills. From the distance some little echoes came back. I was alone and I felt it. My aloneness was so profound that it felt comforting. Nothing could intrude it. It was like the peace of the dead. But for a moment I saw a man not far away. But it must have been one of my lately common hallucinations. I tried to calm myself again. My mind had the tendency to erase all perceptions that are not in alignment with its conviction of what is possible and what isn’t. Sometimes it lost track of important thoughts. The natives in the old times always tried to keep a strong connection with the world of spirits. They worked with trance-inducing drumming, dancing and drugs. They also watched the movement of the birds in the sky to sense the slightest change in the surroundings. But I was not aware for these things. Destiny had me in its grip. I had no choice but to follow, even though I had no good feeling about where the journey was heading. I also sensed that something was behind me. Sometimes these things were just false impressions, that penetrated our normal consciousness from time to time, either being fantasy or real, a real flash of insides from other worlds behind the curtain. Was I in danger? I had my Smith & Wesson revolver with me and pulled it out of my jacket. The crows watched me from the distance. I took a cartridge and pushed it into the cylinder. I cocked the pistol, aimed at a distant hill tip and shot. The rebound was hard on my shoulder. The shot echoed in the shallow valley back and forth. The crows jumped only a few inches further without even trying to fly. They may have been used to it. Or they felt still safe.

I went back to the dining room of the hotel. I took two cups of thin coffee first. They had only a small effect on me. But at least I could have a conversation with the nice native lady behind the bar.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked.

“Yes it was okay, despite my strange dreams.”

She looked at me. “Is everything all right, sir?”

“I don’t know. Maybe in this moment, yes.”

She nodded, smiling. “That is at least something. Can I bring you anything, sir?”

“Yes, give me some toast with jam and pancakes, please.”

“Sure.”

“And I have a question, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

“Okay. Is there anything strange about the Badlands?”

“Anything strange? There are some crazy ghosts flying between the hills around, people say.” I pulled my eyebrows. Our eyes met for a long moment.

“What kind of ghosts?” I wanted to know.

She did not flinch. “The spirits of the ancient dragons who lived here long ago and the warriors from the times of the Indian wars. Crazy Horse and others. There are also bad spirits who try to convince our teenagers to kill themselves.”

“Is that true?” I remembered the girl from yesterday night. Where did she spent the night? What was she going to do next? “Are there many suicides in the reservation?”

“Yes, many,” she nodded. “There is an intruder here, a bad spirit called Slenderman. He is out of the movies, but very real for some. He wants to kill our children. Amazing.” She stopped and looked out of the window. I followed her eyes. We could see far, to the hills of the Badlands. There were no fields, only dry grassland. “Life is not easy for them here. The families suffer from all the things caused by addiction and unemployment. And the load of the generations who have passed. We lost our soul. I am lucky to have a job. But it’s still dead boring here.”

“I was out the hills,” I said. “I could feel the space. I saw even a man, but just for a second.”

She looked at me directly with an inexplicable affection but also dismissively, as if she wanted to test me. “Be careful.”

“Okay. May I ask your name?”

“Red Hawk.”

“I’m Frank. I hope we meet again.”

“You are always welcome here.” I went to a table and looked out into the brilliant October morning. Red Hawk came and served me my breakfast. When I left she nodded at me like an old friend. As I noticed a black police car on the street passing by slowly I decided to take off. So I checked out and threw my suitcase into the car. The police car came back and stopped before the hotel. One of the two cops walked slowly into the building, the other was leaning on the open car door with the police phone in his hands. I started and drove slowly out of the village. Today was the first day they would hunt for me, but there was no way they could know I was here. I followed Road 240 and Sage Creek Road through the Badlands National Park. My heart was still beating because of the police. Outside the village a person was standing on the road. It was the Indian girl from yesterday. I stopped and opened the door.

“Can you take me away from here?” I wanted to be alone actually. I had many things to think about. But I could not say no either.

“Yes, come in, please!” I started driving and gave her time to relax a bit. “How did you sleep out here?” I wanted to know.

She shook her heat. “Not good. I dreamed of a bad thin man. He is behind me.”

“Who is that? Is that this Slenderman guy someone told me about?”

“Yes, he is like an animation character. I don’t know.”

“But then he can’t be real.”

“He is.” Her eyes watched the barren jagged hills passing by.

“Are you hungry?” I asked she nodded. Tears were in her eyes. “There is a Walmart bag behind you. Take what you want.”

She shook her head. “I can’t. I have nothing to give back.”

I took a deep breath. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Samantha.”

“Okay, I am Frank. And I don’t want anything from you. I have enough to carry myself. So where shall I take you?”

“I have nowhere to go,” she said.

I decided to take her with me, if she wanted. I don’t know why. “I have two tents and sleeping bags with me. I am on the run too, you know. So if you want to stay a while, that is okay. And now you eat something.” She had a dry painful cough. Was she sick or was it something else? Finally she agreed to take some bread, chips and cola. I could feel that she relaxed a bit. We watched the strange land passing by. The rose sediment hills were beautiful. But still the question was where to go. Were the police at the motel behind me? Was it an accident? I would not know.

“But what have you done?”

I looked at her. “It was an accident,” I said with a brittle voice. I killed a little girl. They want to put me in jail for that. But I didn’t go. I am afraid not to make it. That’s all.” For a while she said nothing. “And you, Samantha?”

It took her a while to start talking. “I had to run away. From school. They bullied me there, telling me I should kill myself.”

“And your parents?”

“My mother lives somewhere else. I have a great grandpa I live with and some cousins.”

“And how is it at home?”

“One cousin is becoming worse. He has lost his way.” She lowered her head. “I can’t go back. And now I don’t know where to go.”

“I see. May I ask how old you are?”

“I am fourteen.”

“Dear Lord. What have you done with your throat, if I may ask?”

She made a defensive gesture. “Nothing. It’s nothing. Just a little cold,” she said.

“Can you not call anyone?” I wanted to know.

She shook her head. “There is no one to call.”

“Then I may ask you not to start your cell phone any more. Because they will track you down.”

She nodded. “I have no battery any more anyway. Where do you want to go today?” she asked.

“I don’t know yet. I was thinking about driving to Wounded Knee after we have crossed the Badlands, as I told you yesterday.”

She frowned. “Why? What do you want there?”

“I want to see the places I read about,” I said.

She nodded and pondered for a moment. “Why are you not going west, to Wyoming, for example?”

“Yes, I want to go there too,” I agreed. “But where do you want to go?”

“Not back to the reservation. But there is an old medicine wheel, where people go to pray. Maybe there is some help for me. I don’t know.”

“Interesting. I could use some prayers, even maybe it’s all too late.”

She looked at me searchingly. Through her sad dark eyes shone some light from who knows where. “Is it?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Who knows?” I said.

“I don’t know either,” she answered. “I am afraid I’ll go insane. I don’t know what to hope for any more.”

“How can it be so bad? You are young and beautiful. Life is still before you.”

She shook her head again. “I am hunted, I told you. Yesterday I tried to—Nothing.” She covered her face and cried silently. Her neck was stiff and covered all the time. I was shocked. I did not know what to do, seeing her in such a deep pain. And I understood what she had tried. But what could I do for her? I was a hunted criminal and certainly the wrong guy for her.

“Okay, let’s not talk about it any more,” I said. “Here are some painkillers for your sore throat. Don’t take more than three per day.” I gave a package of ibuprofen.

“Okay.” She took one and relaxed a bit. We had left the hills and drove over flat lands. “So then let’s see the Black Hills.”

The Black Hills

The Black Hills were sacred land to the Dakota. They were granted them as a never-ending possession. But when Custer let an expedition into it in 1874 gold was found there as expected. A hush of gold hunters flooded the area short after. They founded the town, Deadwood, I wanted to see also. But first I wanted to see the Crazy Horse Monument in construction. Lame Deer was visiting many years ago and now I must have been further ahead in its completion. We did not take long to arrive at the Black Hills. I choose the little Road 87. We drove through a beautiful forest. Here and there gray rocks protruded out of the ground. I stopped at a little parking lot for breathing the fresh air. I had sensed Samantha’s uneasiness already. She did not want to leave the car. “What is wrong?” I wanted to know. She looked at me a bit scary. “Don’t worry about anything, Samantha. We are on the way to the Crazy Horse Memorial now. And later to Deadwood. You can always leave the car, where and when you want.” She relaxed a bit and came out. The foggy air smelt really like forest, water and rocks. “Do you believe in the Sasquatch, Samantha?” I ask her.

She nodded. “I know a boy who has seen it.”

“Really? Where was that?”

“In northern California, when he was on a family trip. Close to Mount Chester. He was a loud boy before. After meeting the Sasquatch he became very quiet. He was like another person.”

“So your people do believe in it?”

“Yes.”

“But what can it be, if no bodies are found?” I wanted to know. Samantha looked into the forest. It was not alien to her. She could easily adjust to it, I was sure. “Not all beings are detained here,” she said. “Some can travel into the spirit world, if they want. They just appear here for a time and then leave again. But I don’t know, really.” The chilly wind blew over us. The branches of the trees were moved. Many fell to the ground. Raven made some noise in the distance. Samantha raised her hand as if she wanted to feel something. She started very quietly to sing a song. I was happy to be here with her. Her beauty was part of the whole in a way I hadn’t seen before in connection with people and nature. This was worth going all the way from Baraboo to here. Maybe there was still a path for me to go, appearing step by step. Another breeze touched our faces. It was a strange breeze. Seemingly for a moment the whole forest became alive. It was not just wind moving through the branches. The trees were alive with all of their leaves. The forest was talking. It was a conversation with itself and Samantha as well. Actually the exchange was not limited to anything I sensed. It was open even to the stars. And to me as well. This inside disappeared when Samantha lowered her hand with a sighting. How could such a young person have so much power and still be so full of self doubt? “I know now what to do,” she said. “I have to go to the stone circle at Medicine Mountain. Do you want to go there too?”

“Where is it?”

“It’s in the Bighorn Mountains.”

“Ah, further north.”

“Yes, can you take me there?” she asked.

“When I can do anything to make you a bit happy, I’ll do it,” I said. She tried to smile and nodded with gratefulness. A little while later she moved her head what was kind of stiff until now slowly left and right. “My neck hurts. I hope I can move my head freely again.”

“What have you done, baby?” I asked. She lowered her scarf and I could see read marks of strangulation.

“Yes,” she said sadly. “What have I done?”

We continued driving until we reached the tourist center close to the Crazy Horse memorial. “Do you want to go up there?” Samantha asked. I looked at the distant rock formation. The family of founder Korczak Ziolkowski tried for decades to change the mountain into the biggest sculpture of humankind. Crazy Horse riding his horse and making a gesture to the lands in front of him, saying, “My land is where my people are buried.” This monument was meant by some Indian chiefs like Henry Standing Bear to be a counterpart to the Mont Rushmore monument with the four presidential heads.

“I will go to the bookshop, that’s all. And what do you want?”

Samantha looks around. “I will walk a bit. See you in one hour, okay?”

“Yes, in one hour.” I let my eyes move around the scene. No police car. I entered the tourist center. It was a brightly lit wooden hall with interesting photos and Indian artefacts including a tipi in the middle. Of Crazy Horse there was no photo available because he did not want to be pictured, believing that would take his power away. This greatest warrior was already a mythical figure like King Arthur in Old England, a past and future leader, who only sleeps within the spirit world, but is all the time ready to return to help his people. I had a feeling and looking back I discovered Samantha in the museum, probably the biggest museum about Indian culture she had seen so far. I smiled on seeing her lovely figure and hoped this would help her to be prouder about being herself.

The bookshop was the most interesting place for me. I had always loved books since my first encounter with Harka of Welskopf-Henrich. But the book I was opening now, questioned some of my views on history. It described the history of the Dakota/Sioux. It said they had been corn farmers in South Carolina before. One day the shamans of the tribes sensed danger coming from the east over the big sea and ordered their people to move west. They did it even before the British landed. They took around two hundred years for their journey until they reached the big plains. Here they adapted to the culture of the local tribes which was unknown to them before. It consisted of tipis, horses and buffalo hunting, the whole thing. It was like an invitation to a big party which lasted another hundred years. The Sioux converted into strong riders and warriors and wiped aside some of the former inhabitants of the prairie. They became the kings of these large territories. The culture they adapted to was indirectly created by the white invaders. Their move west was caused by them and the presence of the horses too. They escaped the Spanish conquistadors and changed into a wild, much smaller race. But at the end the Sioux became the ideal of Native Indian life within the plains. I had to think about something else. Nowhere in the world had big animals survived riding hunters for long. Only in Africa large populations survived, living with humans for hundreds of thousands of years, but these people were not hunting with horses. In the plains the horse was only used for around two hundred years of hunting. So would the buffalo survive even without Bill Cody and his friends? Who knows. I looked around the book shop. Samantha was not there but a young native man promoted a new book on the front desk. It was a book of a current Indian warrior. I picked it up also and glanced it over. The writer was a half Indian. He was proud of being a warrior and having had combats during one of the Iraq wars. “That’s my father,” said the young man proudly. When I asked him about his mother he told that she was a white lady. I thought he could easily be trapped between the world of fantasy and the one of reality, like me. I wished him the best and went to Samantha who was waiting for me. “Do you like the museum?” I asked.

She nodded. “Not bad. A great past. But it’s gone,” she said.

“There is a book saying the Sioux came from the east coast. They have been farmers before. What do you think?”

She pondered this for a while. “There is indeed an old story that says we came from the east, but most elders say we were in the plains for ever.”

“There is also a new theory saying the Americas were highly populated lands before Columbus came, but waves of the arrivals’ diseases would wipe them out even before the settlers came.”

Samantha nodded. “That could be true.”

I had a look around before I went out of the building. I may have been at just a low number of the FBI Fugitive Wanted List. So hopefully I did not had to worry until I used my credit card. But that I had avoided by plundering my account before my departure and carrying all my money with me wherever I went. We continued north. It was already afternoon. “How far do you want to go today?” Samantha asked.

“I want to see Deadwood,” I said.

“I am not going into a hotel,” she answered.

“You don’t need to. You can take my tent and sleeping bag, as I have said. Don’t worry.” She agreed. We drove a while through the beautiful hilly forest. “And what do you want to do next? Have you got any ideas?” I asked her. She looked at me with a sad smile.

“No idea. I just want to win time.”

“Time for what?”

“Time to escape this thing that is hunting me. This is a bad spirit. Otherwise, something bad will still happen to me. That’s why I have to go to this holy place to pray.”

I nodded. “Let’s have a short visit in Deadwood and then we move on. Is it okay to see the Little Bighorn Battlefield?”

“That’s okay. I always wanted to see it.”

“Maybe we even can see Devil’s Tower too.” We followed Street 385 until Hill City where a gas station was. After taking gasoline we went to a supermarket and bought some things. I noticed that some people found us kind of strange, a young Indian girl together with an adult white guy. But it did not matter to us. Samantha bought some apples and I bought bread, cheese and water. Later we sat in the car and had a nice dinner. For the first time Samantha laughed when I mentioned the strange glances I had encountered. “Don’t worry about that when you are together with natives. We are considered as dirty and alcoholics. They will think all kinds of bad things of you, when you are with me.” She smiled and lightened up a bit, even if it was a sad fact she was mentioning. Then we continued the beautiful road until Deadwood. This town had a long front of old buildings made out of bricks. In the upper windows I saw some female puppets, a remembrance of the good old times, when ladies were for sale here. The town was full of Harleys and other bikes. It was a legendary stop for these guys with gray beards and black leader suits. I drove slowly through the city. “I want to see this pub of Kevin Costner,” I said.

“I don’t want to go.”

“No, please come with me,” I insisted.

“No, no, no. You think I made a joke with what I was saying. But not. It was not a joke. Don’t take me, please!” But I was sure I had a better idea. We went together to this big pub. We see many interesting photos on the wall. The people were all happy and did not give us much attention, except some contemptuous looks. Here was the place where a well known western story teller and gunmen was shot during a poker game from behind: Bill Hickok. Even his last card hand was on the wall, called, ‘Dead man’s hand.’

“Let’s go!” Samantha whispered.

“Hey you, dude!” A man yelled in my direction. “What are you doing with that little squaw? Hey? Tell me!” I turned around. There he was. A drunk biker, tall and muscular, with a blond beard and thin short hair. His black leather suit was covered with skulls, southern flags and other right-wing symbols. He had an evil shine in his eyes. His friends were all beside him, looking like him, smiling. “Are you renting this little bitch, sir? You know, the town is fucking boring.”

The room became quite within seconds. Only the bartender continued to wash his glasses as if nothing had happened. They were all waiting for my reaction. Samantha was shaking. “Run to the car!” I said. She did not go. “Are you sure you want talk like this to me?” I asked. He murmured something and looked at me doubtfully, shaking between fear and anger. I lowered my hand into my pocket and grasped the revolver. Having found it I gave him a dirty smirk. I could blow his head off in a second. Now his life depended only on my good will. He was irritated. He and all his friends contracted. They did not expect this kind of response. I was surprised about my own behavior. Who I had become was unknown to me, maybe this was a good moment to let it out. But Samantha pulled me out of the bar. The rockers looked at us like aliens. So fast it was to feel like an outsider. My heart was beating and I was sweating. My system could not deal well with much stress. As I staggered Samantha was giving me support. The poor girl was humiliated again thanks to my stubbornness. We reached my car and left town. “I am sorry about that,” I said, very sad.

“No, no, it’s okay. You did great. But you should not defend me like this. It’s not worth it. You are risking everything, you don’t even know me.”

“I am only sorry that I brought you into this situation. You don’t need to hear this shit. I should have listened to you before.”

“Yes, of course!” She tried to smile and knocked my shoulder. “I know more about this than you.”

“But you are worth it,” I said. We drove a while, calming our selves down.

I realized that I could not drive much longer. “I am getting tired, Samantha.”

She looked at me for the first time without fear but with compassion. “If you want, you can park here somewhere. I can find my place in the woods.”

“Okay, let’s do it.” I drove slower. It was not easy to see an entrance into the woods, but then I found a small road. I drove into a little valley. The place was perfect, totally hidden but with space enough for camping. Samantha walked around a bit and watched the trees carefully. Then she helped me to build the two tents. My plan had been to have a backup tent but now it was great that Samantha had her own. She would never sleep in one tiny tent with a stranger, but rather outside in the cold. Still, the situation was not easy for her. I tried to give as much comfort and security as I could. She did not want to eat anything. “I go into the woods, come back later. What tent is mine?”

“The left one there.”

“Thank you.” I gave her a camping mat. She put her sleeping bag into it. It was getting cold and fortunately I had three of them with me. The night came and all things became a pale blue color. The traffic noise of the road still continued in the distance. Samantha had disappeared. I hoped she did not do anything to herself. So I was alone again and that was not a good thing. She had distracted me from my situation. I still had nowhere to go. I only wanted to feel peace. But why than could I not enjoy my time with Samantha? Who knew if we had more than another day together? This trip was a gift from my childhood because of her. I crawled into my tent, went into the sleeping bag and fell asleep. Deep in the night I woke up. I heard a strange sound. I needed a while to recall my memory where I was and with whom I was. I got out of my tent. The forest was dark. Thousands of crickets were singing and the half moon shone. But something was wrong. A sobbing came out of Samantha’s tend. I opened it and called her. “Hey! Samantha. What’s going on?”

She stopped crying and took a deep breath. “This man is behind me, this Slenderman, Frank. He is very near. I don’t want to sleep any more!”

“Is he out there in the forest?” I wanted to know. She needed a moment to think or sense.

“Maybe. I am afraid, Frank.”

“Let’s go look for him,” I said. “Would you come with me?”

“Yes, of course.” She came out of the tent and gave me a short hug. Then she looked around. The forest was there like a dark wall around us. “Yes, he is there somewhere.”

“I go first,” I said. We started to walk through the wood, slowly and gingerly. A chill went down my spine. My sense of orientation was good enough not to get lost, so I made a big round in order to never lose sight of our tents. The moon light fell in narrow rays into the darkness. Things could appear and disappear in a moment. But still there was still so much darkness where I could not see anything. Was something out there? Hiding was easy. For a moment I thought I saw a tall guy like from the bar today, even thinner, or was my fear fooling me? An idea flashed my mind: “You decide what is out there.” Okay, I relaxed. “There is nothing, Samantha,” I said.

She held my arm and looked a while into the darkness. “Maybe you are right. But he is in my dreams.”

“You can fight him there,” I said.

“But how, Frank! He’s killing me!”

“Stop running away from him. Let him kill you. That is at least what the Senoia tribal people from Malaysia suggest.”

She took some deep breaths. “Yes, maybe you are right. I will try to stop next time. If I remember.” This advice was easy to give but harder to follow, as I soon had to learn. I could not sleep and kept listening to the sound of the forest. Was something approaching us, creeping in the darkness? After a while I sank into a trance and the sounds I heard changed. I saw a coast at night and people standing around a dozen of fires. They were looking into the darkness of the great sea in the east. One man was standing between them who was the most important one. He had many things wrapped around his body and head like bones and feathers. Maybe he was a shaman.

With a loud voice he gave an order. “Go now as far you can see the fires. Then you stay calm, and smell and sense what is coming from the east. Return as fast as you can.” Many men started to carry their light boats into the water which was calm this night. They paddled with strong man, fast in eastern direction until the fires on the coast behind them were hardy visible over the horizon. Then the leader called them to stop paddling and to sense what was coming. The Indians were sitting in their boats quietly. The waves moved the boats but mainly it was a still night. They were firm in their concentration. What was coming? For half an hour nothing happened. They were always ready to give up until the leader calmed them down. And indeed, when they stretched their sense further over the eastern horizon something was coming. It was dark and heavy. It was a layer of low clouds. The Indians became afraid and paddled back. They could smell pestilence and plague coming over the ocean. The shaman received them with dark countenance. “Death is coming from the east!” he said. “We have to leave our lands behind and move west tomorrow.”

When the dream faded away I still could sense the darkness approaching us. It did not feel very comfortable. And even I wanted to stand up and move it had already its grip on me and kept me in a trance state. It was coming like darkness itself through the forest towards our tents. Samantha was not sleeping well. She was whimpering. I just kicked myself out of sleep and left the tent. I stood there in the night and tried to make sense out of this. Were there really bad spirits around or was I getting crazy? I did not feel anything particular, but there was a sense of urgency to leave. So I woke up Samantha and switched on the front lights of the car. Within few minutes all of our things were packed into the trunk. “So let’s go. We have many things to do today,” I said.

She nodded. “No more dreams, please!” she said. It was at five o clock when we were back on the highway. The next thing I wanted to see was the Little Bighorn Battlefield. This would take us few hours to go there. In the meantime I tried to be totally awake and forget the strange nightmares. At the next gas station I took some cups of coffee. Samantha had not much to say. She rather slept in the car. Maybe she had better dreams on the road.

Little Bighorn River

When she awoke, I said: “Today we will go to the Medicine Circle. Are you ready?”

“She yawned. “It’s time. My dreams are still terrible.” She looked for some minutes in front of her where the Interstate 90 was going through the plains. “I really need healing. It’s out of my control. This thing is close behind me. I can almost touch it. Hopefully I can get rid of it today. Otherwise I don’t know what to do.”

“I need healing as well,” I murmured.

“Yes, you do.” She looked at me. She maybe saw more in me than I wanted to be seen. “You are sad, Frank. Have you lost a lot?”

I smiled bitterly. “You can see things, can you?”

She agreed seriously, like an adult. “Some things I see. That’s actually not what I want, but I see sometimes how people are, and feel what’s going on in them.”

“Mm. To answer your question, I lost my girlfriend. She left me. And also, maybe l lost a part of myself at the accident.”

She nodded. “Yes, I see. I hope you find it again one day.”

“Because of this, I can’t see you suffer,” I responded, “if I can do anything.” My eyes became wet. It was hard to keep driving. She stroked my arm and shoulder. “You’re doing already a lot. You’re bringing me to this place, where I can pray. And yesterday—” Her voice broke. She needed some minutes to find words. “You showed me something important. Thank you for that!” We drove, moved and happy, for an hour without more words. Later we stopped at a restaurant and ate out at the parking lot, sandwiches and drank cola. The wind was getter colder every day. It moved Samantha’s long dark brown hair. I was happy that she was alive. “Today is already November,” I said. “It can be winter any day now.”

Samantha looked north. “You are right. But what shall I do?”

“Where are you parents, Samantha?” I finally asked.

She thought a while about the past. It looked like she would not answer but she did. “My father was not very happy. He drank too much. Finally he was killed at fight in a pub some years ago.”

“Oh my god,” I said. “I am sorry about yesterday. I am so sorry.”

She nodded. “Now you know why I don’t like pubs. And my mother is still around. But she was not really able to be a mom. It was too much for her, me and my brother, but the good thing is she quit drinking some months ago. AA has helped her a lot. She comes sometimes to see us.”

“And you live with your grandparents?”

“Yes, and with my brother and some cousins; four, two boys and two girls.”

“And that was not easy?”

She sighed. “It was okay for some years. But one of the cousins is in a difficult age, on drugs, often drunk and behind the girls. I did not feel safe any more at home.”

“And at school you had also problems.”

Samantha nodded. “Yes, also. But let’s move on. I want to see the circle.”

“I would like to go first a bit more north to the Little Bighorn Battlefield.”

“Yes, that’s okay,” she said. Some hours later we were there. The first thing we saw at the parking lot was a cemetery of the U.S. Army. These soldiers lost their lives mostly during the Indian wars. We entered the museum. There was another collection of weapons, artefacts, memories and pictures. Only this place claimed to have a photo of Crazy Horse. But it was not released to the public until the fifties when no eyewitness who knew Crazy Horse personally were alive any more. So the whole thing remained a mystery, including his place of burial. Further on, Samantha and I reached the real battleground. Because we were on the top of the range of hills we were close to the so-called Last Stand, where Custer’s last defense position had collapsed. Samantha went to a round monument, with some sculptures featuring mounted Indians. I went to Custer Hill. Now I was at a place I had read about already as a boy. This battle was part of a much bigger conflict, a conflict of cultures. The Dakota defended their free life as long as they could. In winter of 1976 the American Government ordered all Sioux bands to leave the Black Hills and return to the reservations. They wanted to make sure that the gold seekers there were protected. The Sioux had refused to sell the Black Hills but the government took them anyway, breaking an earlier contract. In 1975 many tribal bands were still free and had no safe place to withdraw. The bands who already had lived in reservations joined the free tribes in the spring of 1976 to hunt again freely and possibly to fight the whites one more time. The most important Dakota leader, Sitting Bull, had had a vision, seeing many white soldiers falling from their horses. The prophesy was the reason for the biggest Northern Indian gatherings in memory of oral tradition. There were several thousand Dakota, Cheyenne, Blackfeet and other warriors with their families gathered enjoying the summer and always ready to fight the U.S. Cavalry. The U.S. Government sent an army to finish the Indian wars. Custer’s division comprised of six hundred and fifty men. His soldiers were mostly emigrants from fifteen nations who just tried to find their way into the American society. This was not their war. It was just a job. There were also two other divisions approaching the Indian Territory. The division of General Crook was already fought back by Crazy Horse and his war party. The other bigger division of Terry/Gibbon moved slowly to the mouth of the Little Bighorn. Custer tried to reach the Indian village alone, of which a scout told him it was the biggest ever seen by him. Custer decided for immediate attack, believing the Indians had already been warned which was not the case. He divided his division into three battalions, of which one was a back up and two were meant to do the attack. Major Reno was ordered to attack from the south and meantime Colonel Custer rode with this two hundred and fifty men further north, hidden behind a change of hills, to turn around to conduct the main attack into the back of the Indian defense against Reno. The points of Reno’s and Custer’s attacks were five miles apart. Reno’s men started to shoot into the unprepared village and killed some children and women. These soldiers were tired from a night ride, as many Indians were from a war dance going until morning. But the Indian response was overwhelming. What neither Reno nor Custer knew was the fact that within the village was waiting the biggest Indian force the U.S. Cavalry had ever encountered. Crazy Horse’s men and others attacked Reno from the front and the flanks. Reno withdraw his division into a little forest were he did not know what to do. He was accustomed to drinking whisky already in the morning and had done so at this very day. Therefore his reaction to the massive Indian beat-back was chaotic. Several times he ordered his people to mount their horses and jump down again. The Indians had entered the little forest and started to fight the soldiers directly. Crazy Horse had given them the order to spare ammunition because he knew already about the upcoming attack of Custer. Finally Reno made an escape to the other side of the river and up the hill. Crazy Horse convinced his warriors to leave a fight which was going to be won fast in order to follow him north. Reno survived and was some minutes later met by Benteen with his pack train. Benteen had orders to back up Custer as fast as possible, but Reno convinced him to stay. Both of these officers did not like Custer, never being able to enter into his entourage. So they were wasting around ninety minutes talking about Custer. When some officers rebelled and went further north with some troops to look after Custer it was already far too late. They witnessed only a shooting towards the ground by riding Indians. Their unfaithfulness had probably saved their lives. Only their safe position on the top of the ridge gave them a chance to defend themselves. One hour before, Custer had reached his position for launching his attack on the back side of the village. He wanted to capture as many women and children as possible in order to force the warriors to surrender without further fighting. He knew that the protection of their families meant everything to the native men. He could see now for the first time the big village and it seemed to be peaceful. He saw only women, children, and horses. Two dozen of his soldiers were already riding down the Medicine Tail Coulee for looking closer to the river. They wanted to find a nice way for crossing for the whole division. But when they saw the mass of Indian fighters approaching they made their last free move, rode up a bit and united with the rest. From that moment on they were under constant attack. The path of the battle followed an arc up out of Medicine Tail Coulee across another swale into a depression, which in turn opens up and out into a rising slope until Calhoun Ridge, further up to Calhoun Hill, and then still rising, past a depression to a second elevation known as Custer Hill. All this way up from the river until Calhoun Ridge is about three-quarters of a mile. It takes a man on foot about twenty minutes to get up there. Some warriors shared later how tired they were after reaching the battleground. But even more tired were the soldiers. After riding the whole night, they almost fell down under their own weight, when jumping off their horses. The place of fighting was filled with smoke. The shooting was for seconds very frequent, a moment later slower, to become frequent again. The Indians would attack and withdraw, attack and withdraw again. During this regression Custer’s soldiers made five stands. The third was almost successful. They finally could keep the Indians at distance with gunfire.

Samantha came to me. She had prayed at some stone markers where Indians had died. “Now I see everything for the first time,” Samantha said. “I have been told the story many times by my grandpa. His grandfather and great uncles have heard the story from their grandfathers. After the Reno episode Crazy Horse was coming back to his tipi. He ordered a medicine man to call for the war spirits. He prepared himself also personally for the encounter with Custer. It was very brief. He was even singing his personal songs, prayers, purified himself with smoke.”

“Is that true? There was time for this?” I was astonished.

“Yes,” Samantha smiled. “He made his face painting which the white lightning going down his left cheek. That was too much for his men, who became already impatient.” She laughed and was silent for a while, only seeing the inside pictures of her memory. I was standing there with her. The sky was blue and we could see far. A red hawk flew over the battlefield and circled around it again and again. “When Tashunka Witko was ready he led his warriors around this whole mountain range to meet Custer from behind.” She made a big gesture from the valley in the west to the north until north east to the depression in front of us. “He came in the right moment. He just rode into the last second stand of Custer and opened the battle for combat. The Indians were better fighters and riders than the soldiers and had also a better fighting spirit, defending their families. Not like now.” She stopped and thought a while about this. Her face became sad. Then she raised her mood up again and continued. “The hand fight was cruel and fast. The command structure of Custer collapsed during this fight. The surviving soldiers ran up to the last stand. They crowded together and killed their horses to defend themselves. This no Dakota would do, kill his horse. Our people loved their horses. From the outside they were hit by a hail of arrows. Our fighters shot arrows into the air above and then they fell down on the soldiers, killing many of them. Also children fought on the side of the Indians. They were called suicide boys, who tried to kill the soldiers with their knives and arrows. I only have heard of Roman Nose and Whirlwind, both sixteen, who died near the river that day.” Samantha stopped again and knelt down, crying. “They gave their lives and I was only thinking about myself. What a loser I am!”

I sighed and knelt down at her side, caressing her neck. “Hey baby, that is not true. They had an easy battle to fight. Their enemies were outside. There was only good or evil at that time. Your fight is much more difficult. You understand? Now the devils are inside. Don’t compare, Samantha. This is the hardest time you live in.”

She cried, but she nodded, showing me that she had heard me. I hoped I could give her more than just words, but we both lived in different worlds. Who knows if there was a bridge between us? I was thinking about the battle again. I had read about it in the museum and some websites before. Some soldiers tried to escape by running down to the river again. Two riders almost escaped but failed at the end. One was shot accidentally by his own revolver as was already outside the battleground heading south and the other was killed at the north west side of the hill range by a Sioux man. Only one horse of Custer`s division survived.

After this battle had come to an end the warriors went north to finish Reno and Benteen also. Women, children and the old ones came to the battlefield to collect the remains of the dead. The body of Custer was not identified by most of the Indians, because he had cut his long blond hair a day before. But his cadaver was protected from being damaged by two women who had known him, one of them maybe closer. The Indians did not manage to overrun the defense circle of Reno and Benteen and gave up the fight one day later. On their escape from the larger Terry and Gibbon division the Indians burned the prairie grass behind them. Many went to the Bighorn Mountains we wanted to visit also today. But was it not really all for nothing? I pondered. One year later Sitting Bull had fled to Canada and Crazy Horse was killed not long after his surrender. So where was hope for Samantha to find? I looked down the field from Custer Hill to the Little Bighorn River. The place was quiet. Only a breeze went over the grass. Time was running and we had still more things to do.

“Let’s go,” I said to Samantha. Now after all these memories it was time to go to a place of healing.

We drove south on Interstate 90 back for a while. “My grandfather said Tashunka was a shy man. He would not dance and sing with the others. But when he said something they respected it and followed him. He always played safe and knew exactly what he intended to do. When he wanted to shoot he dismounted his pony first. The whites shot at him many times at a short distance, but never hit him. He believed himself to be safe in battle as long as he was not shot by his own people. He did not have a power dress. He just put dust over his body; that was all he needed to be protected. He put his people always first, even when his life was in danger, like other holy people. That’s why he came back in the night he was betrayed and murdered by some who were jealous of him. I wish he would be here still to help us, at least in spirit.”

“Yes.” There was a police car in the middle. I saw also another car passing by, black with a high antenna. My heart was always bumping when police were close. Some people who were on the run for forty years. Would I be one of them? One hijacker was captured not long ago in Portugal, because he had to deliver his fingerprints in order to receive a new identity card. Everything was in the big systems nowadays and hiding was not possible anymore. I had to go back if I wanted to stay alive.

Medicine Wheel

The Bighorn Forest was actually a beautiful mountain range that allowed us to see far. The road to the medicine wheel was not indicated, but I could see it in Google maps and found the right turn. We had to walk a bit from the parking place to the holy side. The stone wheel was quite old, maybe hundreds or thousands of years. Now there was a fence with ropes up in order to protect it. Many prayers were written in colored and white fabric stripes or papers and connected to the fence. Also there were some flag lines from Tibet. They all rustled in the cold breeze. Were the prayers heard by the spirit world? I was not sure. The circle was on the top of a ridge. On the southern side was a sharp ledge with rocks and an abyss of about a hundred and fifty feet. At the northern side was a steep slope. Only close to the circle were some trees where I decided to build our tents. I was sure that Samantha would take hours for her prayers. Maybe her life depended on a miracle now. She was already there sitting before the fence with her head lowered. Her long hair was moved by the wind like another prayer flag. I pulled a blanket out of my car and enfolded her with it. She nodded without opening her eyes. It was her time. I sat at the other side of the wheel praying for the arrival of someone who was able to help her. I wore all my clothes including my winter parka in order to stay long. The sun went down in the west, where the mountain range of the yellow stone crater was. There was a bubble of magma waiting in deep sleep. When I awoke one day it could turn the whole of North America into a disaster. Another super volcano named Uturuncu was indeed in this awakening phase, some satellites had discovered some years ago. He was located in South Bolivia and could break out within twenty years. The earth was moving and changing fast as if she was breathing in and out. How much would I see of the changes still to come? Probably nothing. My future was as dark as it could be. It actually did not exist. I was an outcast even for Indian native people like Samantha. When I had no future, where then would death hide me, where would he find me? I had no idea. The sun had disappeared and the temperature fell under twenty Fahrenheit. Samantha was still sitting there with closed eyes, without movement. I walked silently into my tent and crawled into my sleeping bag. That was the best moment of the day. I felt comforted like a child. Tonight everything would be all right.

But there was nothing going to happen yet. In the night I felt again the layer of darkness approaching. It was coming up the mountain from all sides and it came for us. I opened the tent and looked outside. There was darkness and silence. What I had felt in my sleep was indeed close. I could feel it still. It was darkness itself. It was not anything I wanted to be caught by. It was thick and heavy and would crush Samantha and me. But it was coming from all sides? Where was Samantha? Where could we hide? I was consumed by fear. “Samantha!” I yelled. No answer. I opened her tent. She was not inside. She must still be sitting on the wheel, praying. Maybe there it was safer for us? I took her and my sleeping stuff and went to the wheel. The moon was shining a bit behind the clouds and I could see the trees and the fence. Where was she? I heard her whimpering. I was in despair. We were surrounded by darkness and could not escape. Where to go? It was very close. I found her sitting at the edge of the medicine wheel already inside the fence. I also came inside. Behind us there it was. “Let’s move further inside.” Samantha took my hand and we entered the holy stone circle. We stood together, embracing each other and tried to sense what was approaching. Soon we realized it could not come closer. The circle seemingly protected us and we were safe. I put our sleeping mats on at one of the triangles and we tried to rest. There was still a cold wind and we both were freezing, even though we kept ourselves close to each other under a blanket. But it was still a good night. I could hear Samantha breathe, hold her in my arms and smell her hair. The morning took for ever to arrive. When it came I had strong fever, headache and sore throat. The layer of darkness was gone when the sun shone its pale light over the mountain range. Samantha was okay but realized immediately that I was bad.

“Let`s go to the tent,” Samantha said and led me there. I was freezing, shaking, and sweating at the same time. She needed a lot of power to keep me from falling. Finally, I was in my tent, where it was a bit warmer. She brought me some water. “Do you want to get some painkillers, baby? Something?” she asked.

“Yes,” I whispered. “And there is a package of antibiotics at the left door. Please bring them to me.” She did and I took one. I could not be sick now, but I was. I spent the day in a half-awake state with this intense pain. I could relieve myself only by leaving the tent creeping, but even for that I needed all my power. Nobody visited the medicine wheel for the whole day. But even if someone came, I could not turn myself in to a hospital. I had to heal this by myself. But what was going to happen next night? We should use the daytime to escape, but I could not drive. And Samantha was not released either. It seemed to be a moment without hope. When the evening fell I was afraid already.

Samantha sometimes came to me. “What shall we do, Frank?”

“I don’t know,” I murmured. “I stay here, come what may. But you go inside the circle.”

“No!” she said. “I can’t let you be here when it comes back, Frank!”

“No, I die out there. I can’t.”

“Oh my god,” she cried. And later that night it came back indeed. Slowly it was moving up the mountain from all sides. I could feel Samantha in the middle of the circle, well protected. I was shaking of fear but too weak to move. Samantha came one more time to pull me out of the tent. She was a warrior. But I refused. “No, I want to feel what it is. When I am dead tomorrow you call the police and tell them my story, please.”

She moaned. “You be safe, baby! Don’t leave me now, okay? I must go now, I come back, okay? I come back!” She left.

The darkness was near. I tried to breathe deeply. It came surrounding my tent, then slowly moving in. It was cold and heavy when it touched me. It felt like an ocean of death. I was sure I would die now. It covered me. My breathing became harder and the air colder. The cold penetrated my body. It wanted to move to my heart, I could sense. But then something strange happened. It was like a hand holding my heart. This was a warm loving hand from somewhere else. Even though my body was cold like dead, my heart was protected and still beating. I lost contact with the rest of my body as if it were not there. Only in my heart was a fire burning and was there, well protected. Nothing else happened. I spent the night in a state of stillness. I was not so much afraid any more, because there was something with me, holding me. When the twilight arose the darkness left and I fell asleep, only to be awakened by Samantha again. “Baby, are you okay?”

“Yes, I am, honey. Something was protecting me.”

“Can you move?”

I tried to sit up but was not able to. “Let me rest a bit. I will be okay.”

“Okay, I come back.”

I was sleeping the whole day, eating nothing, only drinking the water Samantha brought me.

Later, she opened my tent again and said, “Hey, Frank!”

“What happened?” I asked, still half sleeping.

WWe have some visitors. They want to see you.”

„“What?” My heart was bumping. “The police?”

She laughted. “No, no, native people. Friends, nothing to worry. They will take you to a fire. It is okay?”

“I don’t know.”

“Please, come!”

“Agreed. Okay.”

Two young guys took me and took me to a fire not far away. A group of an around dozen young native men and women were sitting around it. An elderly man with long white hair was there along with them. They shared an Indian pipe and hummed a song to a drum. As I appeared they looked at me seriously. I was just standing there between the two guys. The old man waved at me. “Come here, son, sit on my side.” I did as he said. They others continued humming and singing. The old man was a character out of a movie. “Do you want to join us?”

I nodded. “Yes, I would be honored.”

“Good, you just join the singing and the pipe.”

The pipe came and I pulled a deep breath. Then I gave it to the old man. The smoke had triggered something in me. It was giving me my life back. From my heart, warm blood moved through my icy body and woke it up again. The singing became stronger and more powerful. Also the drum. The bodies moved in the rhythm. Everyone was in trance. Samantha was sitting on the other side of the circle. She had joined the party totally. I was not sure about myself. I was in an unknown state. After a while there was silence. A big young man pulled out a big plastic bottle and filled from it a ceramic cup. Everyone drank a filling. I looked to the old man on my side. He nodded. “This is our medicine. You drink also.” I was sweating a bit. What did I get myself into here? I was still an absolute mess and now they gave me a strange stimulation. And what about the darkness? Was it approaching again? I sensed it was gone. The cup came to me. The drink was very bitter. But I resisted vomiting and kept the medicine inside. The drum had stopped. The wind blew through the branches around us. Thanks to the fire I could stand the cold so far. The medicine changed my impressions of everything slowly. Something moved through me. A universe of strange pattern opened inside. These spirits were working with me. But it was not an easy talk. It was not something soothing, more a profound penetration of all my body’s parts. Everything was opened up in me until the energy moved freely through my body. It took away from me what was left from the darkness tonight and other memories.

“You come to the circle, son. There is where we meet!” the old man said with a loving smile. I did not understand.

“Let go and trust.” I tried my best. The night experience had taught me already a bit about how to surrender. I was lying down there on the fire, watching the flames until I closed my eyes again to face the inner world. I looked around and saw the medicine wheel. I moved there just with my desire. The lines of stones were now shining in an orange light. The middle axis was going up into the sky and down into the earth. The others of the party were already inside the wheel. They moved in a strange way from one field into another. It was like climbing a leader, but very carefully as if they wanted to hunt something. But there was still a fence. It kept me from entering. I was outside, the others were inside. It was like an old memory. That was actually the story of my whole life. The old man pulled me in and gave me an instruction, but only mentally so I could think the same thoughts he was thinking.

“We search for Samantha’s lost soul. You come with us. Be watchful about spider man, he is a soul thief. We have to be fast and precise.” I looked at the medicine wheel again. It had become a shining incredibly fast spider web which was disconnected from the earth, extending into the universe. It flew through empty space. Look at the dark corners, find Samantha! The other Indians climbed away from the center into the darkness. I copied their constant movement, trying not to cause any disturbances in the net. Finally they found her. She was hiding in a cocoon. This cave; for her it looked like a protecting cave. The pulled her out. It was Samantha when she was around six years old. As I looked for the big Samantha I made a mis-step. I fell against the net and caused a vibration. All the others were halting, but the force we wanted to hide from was already approaching us from the dark side of the net. I could feel its steps coming closer. Now I also saw many other cocoons of bound souls. It was time to flee. The Indian party jumped out of the net into space. I tried to follow them but got stuck in the net. A big spider came running towards me at high speed. At the last moment I jumped again, I flew away. The spider did the same. It was a terrible moment. I could to change or speed up my movement and the spider as big as a car came closer. “Fuck it, help!” I yelled. In the last moment I closed my eyes but nothing happened. Seemingly the spider flew straight across me without reaching me. The others pulled me back to earth, while the spider was trying to reach the net. When she landed she ran away from the center back into darkness again. I was suddenly back at the fire.

Samantha was sleeping. I had the terrible feeling of having caused the whole endeavor to fail. The others were sitting silently without giving me much attention. The old man took his pipe and smoked. I wanted a reaction from him but I had to wait a while. “It’s done, son. At least for Samantha. She is released now. You bring her back to Wounded Knee! Will you?”

“Yes, I’ll do it.”

“But for you, the journey is not over yet.”

“Where do I have to go?”

He looked at me, smiling. “I have to tell you something. The thing that was behind Samantha is now behind you. We have switched you and her. You have distracted the spider long enough to give us time to put Samantha in a safe place. You have to fight the darkness yourself now.”

“So I am punished for helping her,” I said, disappointed.

He nodded. “I know it looks like that. But we had no plan for this. We only wanted to bring back her soul. You have been involved in her story because you have asked for it. Now you have to fight like a warrior. You will have strong companions on your side, son.”

I fell asleep.

In the morning the others were gone. Only Samantha was still there, sleeping in her blanket. It was hard for me to move my body, but it was too cold to wait. I was swaying when I started walking but I managed to turn on the fire with some dry branches and waited for the sun to rise again. I really needed a coffee. After the fire was back I slept again, until I smelt something unusual. “Is it okay, that I made some coffee?” Samantha asked. “Yes of course.” It took me a while to become fully awake. She had used my iron jug and the fire for the brewing, which was all right. I was the best moment so far at the journey to sit there in the clear cold morning air, receiving the warm rays of the morning sun and to drink the coffee with Samantha. I remembered the yesterday event and wondered where the others had gone.

“How do you feel?” I wanted to know.

She smiled. “I feel much better now. I feel actually whole. It’s amazing. Thank you for taking me here, Frank!”

“Thank the other people and above all else the old chief.”

She laughed. “The other people? Which other people?”

“What do you mean?” I was confused. “They came out of nowhere and disappeared into nowhere. But let’s call them people.” I did not really understand. She looked at me in a more powerful way than before.

“They gave me a pipe, anyway. Maybe there were people.” She showed me her long red medicine pipe. “Did you pray for me yesterday?” she asked.

“Yes, I did.” She lowered her eyes and swallowed. “Thank you.” She uncovered her neck. It was still marked with dark red strangulation marks and lightly blue bloodshot areas around them.

“How is your neck?” I wanted to know.

“The coughing is better as you know. But my neck and my shoulders still hurt.”

“And how could you survive?”

She looked to the fire and started to cry. “The rope was connected to a strong branch. But it broke. I think God did not want me to go.” We spent some time in silence.

A bit later our eyes moved together further west to the mountain range who was the natural border of the Yellowstone Park. “I don’t know where to go now,” I said.

“I can go home now,” Samantha said.

“Yes, I know. But I still need some rest. Maybe we can go to the Yellowstone and stay in hot water a day?”

She smiled. “Yes, why not? Is there a legal place?”

“Yes, at Boiling River on the north side of Yellowstone. There we can stay in the warm water outside.”

“That sounds great.” We sat silently for a while and enjoyed the fire and the morning at this remote place.

“Our people can never adjust to the white man’s ways,” Samantha said when we drove down the mountains. “We have a different DNS or spiritual identity. That’s why people become addicted and fat. They suffer not only because of unemployment. They suffer because they were not created to function in such a system like this.”

I agreed. “We also not,” I said. “Maybe we can stand more the suffering in a way. But no human functions well in this system. But what can we do?” I looked at her. She was like a shining star, beautiful and full of light. “Maybe you will find the way. I did not.” I guessed.

She shook her head. “Don’t say that! Your time is not up yet. You keep looking. When you can pray for me I can pray for you. Don’t you think?” I nodded sadly. The love I felt I could not express, only feel. This was the happiest hour I had since years. But time consumed it like everything and soon we were on the trip to Yellowstone. I did not know if I was able to drive, but after sitting on my seat it was okay.

Yellowstone

In the twilight of this autumn morning I drove to Cody, the town named after Buffalo Bill, the man who killed thousands of buffalos and organized later a Wild West Show of which even Sitting Bull was a part for while. I spared Samantha and me to go to the historic pub of Buffalo Bill and went on to the park. But Road 14 was already closed for winter and we had to make a big detour via Interstate 90 until Livingstone in order to reach the north entrance. I hoped they would not detect me, otherwise I would be trapped in a circular mountain range. The landscape was beautiful, hills covered with forests and meadows. Bisons we did not see yet. Samantha smiled. “I wanted always to come here,” She said.

“Me, too. We had an old aunt in East Germany. She was visiting her son ones and gave us a slideshow on this park. It was so beautiful. That was when I decided to go to the U.S. if the wall was opened one day.”

“And now you are here,” she said, smiling. “Yes, yes.”

“These are our last days of holidays, Samantha. I hope you’ll enjoy them.”

“I hope the weather will be fine,” she answered.

We reaching the boiling river and spent hours in the warm water. Samantha had only a T-shirt and her panties for swimming. She also wore her scarf to cover her neck. I had my swim pants with me. The water had just the right temperature. It was different all the time because the hot well was only separated from the cold rest of the river by a line of stone. Samantha smiled and her eyes were shining again. She was as beautiful as a girl could be. I felt a lot of love with her and did not know what to do with it. But I was sure not to destroy this trip by doing something stupid. I was also thinking about what I had picked up during our days at the medicine wheel. The old man said something was behind me now. What was it? Was there not already a black jaguar or some wolves behind me? That was all crazy. I better not think about it.

After some hours in the river we went the Northern Geyser Basin, a large field filled with white-gray mud and hot springs. In the middle was a wooden sidewalk where we could look at the hot waters and the steam coming from the ground. “It’s strange, that we are standing on a huge volcano, isn’t?” Samantha said.

“Yes. And the whole thing is not even stable,” I answered.

“Hopefully he is not waking up in our own life time,” Samantha said.

I looked at the bubbling water. “I don’t think we have to be afraid of nature. I mean not yet. The biggest threat are we ourselves to us,” I said.

Samantha agreed.

“Have you been in the west before?” I asked Samantha.

“I have been in the Black Hills and in Pipestone and some other places.”

“Did you ever fly with a plane?”

“No.”

“You know,” she said, “Pine Ridge is the purest county in the United States. Our life expectancy is the lowest in the Americas. Only Haiti is worse. Our unemployment and alcoholism is up to eighty per cent.”

“But are your people ready when a crisis happens, like Katrina? Or a volcano explosion, when society is collapsing? Are they better off than the whites?”

She pondered about this for a while. “Many of course not. They drink too much and don’t exercise. But I tell you something, what is confidential, okay?” She looked at me with a new kind of power I had not seen in her before. “There are some young people who going into the wilderness. They learn to live with almost nothing. In the morning they gaze in the sun. And eat only some roots, that’s all. Some of the elders train them. It’s a hard training. Only few are successful. They call themselves the Children of the Wind. Maybe they survive, when America is falling.”

“Wow!” I said. “That is nice to know.”

So all I could do was to give Samantha some hours of forgetfulness and the energy to go back, to face her life there and hopefully to come out on the other side. At night we camped between in an official camping place in the forest. Because we have been on high altitude again this evening I went into the forest looking for wood. I did not intend to go deep, but there was no wood left. Over the whole year people were looking for the same thing that I am now. And somewhere was the bear or even my old friend the black jaguar. The light was going down. I turned my flashlight on and broke some dry branches from the trees. Every few seconds I stopped and listened. I remembered how DeCaprio was caught by a grizzly in his movie, even though he had a gun in his hands. Indeed I thought I heard something moving into my direction. I shone the spotlight in the direction did not see anything. I went back fast and started to create a little fire. “There was something in the forest,” I said to Samantha. She wore a wool cap I had bought for her in a gas station and looked cute. It was getting really cold, even colder than yesterday.

She held her hands close to the little fire. “I believe that,” she said. “I have this fantasy now that something is behind me. Really strange!”

“Really.”

She looked at me seriously. “What can I do? I did not know what to do, either. Now you need help, baby.”

“And what about you? How do you feel about coming back?”

She shrugged. “The old man said to me, everything will change. I have to step back and watch the change turning everything around. I just have to trust.” I nodded. That sounded convincing. “Did you have any hard time at school or home?” Samantha asked me.

“Yes, indeed.” I looked a while into the flames of our little fire. “My first school was okay. In my class we were the same people like in kindergarten. So we knew each other for a long time and were comrades. Then we moved to another quarter of the town and I changed the school too. Since then I never felt comfortable any more in school. But the worse thing happened when I left home in order to go to a school for electricians. This was only available for young men at that time, and these were some tough guys. But I was just a mamma’s boy. It was hard for me, harder than later in the army. I was not ready for this. And I had fantasies about suicide almost every day.”

“But you did not do it,” Samantha said. I could see her face in the fire. She was moved either by my story or her own memories.

“Maybe I was not brave enough but I had no hope. The time was just too long I had to go to this school. Only at the weekends I could recharge my batteries. But my fantasies were the kind of hope I could create in my mind. But there was never the moment I said to myself, I do it now.” I looked at her. “But you did.”

She nodded. “Yes, I tried. And God or the tree wanted to save me. I could hardly breathe for hours, when I felt down to the ground. But I still did not want to go back. So I did not know what to do with the life I still had. In the evening I managed to go north, outside the reservation, where I met you. You took me out there for a moment. That gave me time to think.” We looked again to the fire. Out there was a silent movement. Was a creature watching us?

“We never really know the future,” I continued. “We can only take day by day. Finally the bad time was over and I made some studies in the church. They had the only colleges that were independent. So that was a great time. After the wall came down I got an invitation from a friend who worked in a vegetarian restaurant in Wisconsin. That was my chance to come to America. Since then I worked here, first as a dishwasher and later as a cook.”

“And now you are just a driver of an Indian girl.” Samantha laughed.

The night was really cold. It was freezing. Therefore we chose to stay together in one tent. It was nice to stay so close to her, but the end of our time together was already near. We went out early in the morning. On the road we saw a really big bison bull coming towards us on the road. He passed us like a regular truck on the left side. “What a big animal,” Samantha said. “They were impossible to hunt for our ancestors.”

“When the Indians had horses, it was much easier. Before that, they tried to push a whole herd into an abyss by using fire.”

“So they had to kill many more animals than they could eat, you mean?” Samantha asked.

“Yes, they did. They were hungry and had no other choice. Humans had mostly a devastating effect on the environment, since they appeared on earth. Only a few cultures managed to balance their needs with the needs of t nature.” I was driving slowly since the bull had passed us. Suddenly two wolves crossed the road directly before us. I stopped and stepped out of the car. The two went up a slope, looked back and disappeared. Samantha smiled. “There are people here sitting for hours to see some wolves. We are lucky,” I said. We continued the journey to the biggest geyser, ‘Old Faithful’ and managed to see an eruption. Samantha was astonished about the power hidden in the earth. We had a nice breakfast in a nearby restaurant. “Tomorrow we are going back. It will take us the whole day to go to Wounded Knee,” I said. My heart was heavy.

Samantha nodded sadly. “Yes, I have to call my grandpa actually.”

“Wait until tomorrow, please. Until we are out of the park. The FBI will track your call probably.”

“Yes, it will.”

We saw other geysers, green hot springs and the great lake. The day was peaceful, but had already the taste of saying goodbye.

I still did not know what to do. The only thing I knew was, I wanted to see Wounded Knee. This place was famous because of two events. The first one happened in 1890. Many Dakota were part of the Ghost Dance movement of that year. This was a revolutionary endeavor. The movement began with a dream by Northern Paiute Indian called Wovoka during the solar eclipse on January the first, 1889. He claimed that he was taken in his dream into the spirit world and saw all Native Americans being taken up into the sky and the earth opening up to swallow all whites and to bring the earth back to its natural state. And the Native Americans, the living and the dead, were put back upon the earth to live in peace together. Wovoka claimed that he was shown that, by dancing the round-dance continuously, the dream would become a reality and the participants would enjoy the new earth. Sitting Bull was killed in early 1890 by policeman when they struggled to end a Ghost Dance event. After this the American government sent the Seventh Cavalry to disarm the Dakota and take control. This was the same division who had lost the battle of Little Bighorn fourteen years earlier. They had still an account to be settled with the Dakota. There were around three hundred Dakota tribal people at that place. During a struggle of the disarmament on December the twenty-ninth, 1890, a shot was fired by an old Indian man, who did not want to let go his precious gun. The four hundred and fifty-seven US soldiers, nervous as they were, opened fire upon the Sioux, killing more than two hundred of them. This was the Wounded Knee Massacre. When it became apparent that ghost shirts did not protect from bullets and the expected resurrection did not happen, most former believers quit the Ghost Dance. In 1973 there was a moment of return of the armed conflict when angry Dakota warriors occupied this place in order to protest against the corrupt leadership of Reservation Chairman Richard Wilson. This was the first time I really saw native Indians on TV.

After weeks of occupation and negotiations with the government, the Indian activist Lawrence Lamont was killed by a sniper of the FBI. Many Indians left Wounded Knee after this and an end was called to the resistance.

Wounded Knee

“So when do you want to call your grandpa?” I asked.

“I will call him in Pine Ridge.”

I agreed. “I want to see Wounded Knee. And maybe than I go north to visit the Badlands one more time.”

“Okay, then let’s go to Pine Ridge.” On the trip to the reservation Samantha told me another story. “Tashunka Witko had once seen the other world. Everything there he said was filled with light. There were our ancestor in their tipis on the prairie and they had horses and lots of prey. They live for ever in peace and happiness. Tashunka said, this world we live in here is only a world of shadows, but we all will go home one day.”

“Was this a reason for you to quit living here? To look for the other world?” I wanted to know. She nodded.

“Yes, I wanted to be with him and the others.” We did not talk much more during the last two hours of our trip together. We both thought about what may come. Pine Ridge, a village within the reservation that came close to being a town. I stopped at a Shell gas station in the center and filled my tank one last time. Samantha phoned her grandpa. Maybe these were already our last moments. When she came back she entered the car. “He is happy. I told him to meet us at Wounded Knee.”

“Okay, let’s go there.” On our way to that place, we saw a sign with the name of Crazy Horse on it. It was perforated by bullets. “Some people still did not like him.”

Samantha nodded sadly. “He is our hero forever. That’s what they don’t like.”

“Nobody knows where he’s buried, right?” I asked.

She shook her head. “It’s still known. I even was shown the place. In my dreams.”

“Can you describe it, if you don’t mind?”

Samantha looked north, into the distant horizon. “It was under an old tree, maybe an oak tree, beside a little dry valley. And it was powerful. Only the initiated can go there.”

“Yes, of course. I hope others will never find him.”

After a half an hour we reached the place. It looked empty and abandoned. On a little hill was the memorial with the mass grave. Samantha and I went slowly up there. I looked around but no car was yet arriving. This was a holy place like the medicine wheel in the Bighorn Mountains. In the middle was the long fenced mass grave located. Around it were some headstones of people who died since then. Prayers and colored fabric strives were connected to the fence. “Here our history almost ended,” Samantha said. We stood there for a moment, quiet. Samantha took me by the hand to show me another building in the distance, but I pulled her to my car and drove over there. I wanted always to be ready to move on. We arrived at this building which was like a little cultural center where the two events were remembered.

It was round, made of concrete. Inside on the walls was a collection of photos of 1890 and 1973. There was a native man who welcomed us. “Hi, I am John.” He looked at Samantha. “I think I know you.”

“I am Samantha. I am coming back today.”

John smiled. “I am happy about that. Your grandpa was going through a dark time, I have heard. Today he will be happy.” Samantha smiled. I asked him about 1973.

“I was there,” he said. He went out and showed the hills around the little flat valley. “There are holes on the top all around us. Some are from 1890, others from 1973, made by the FBI. I was five and was crawling through the lines with food.”

“Wow,” I said. “Not many can say that.”

“No, not many.”

“And you are taking care of this place?” I asked John.

“Yes, I do and this is my family.” He pointed at his wife and two teenagers, a boy and a girl. The teenagers carried food onto a table on the edge of the big round room. His face became sad when we looked at them.

“What is it, John?” I asked him. Samantha just came to us. He looked at her and looked at me again.

“This meal is for my other daughter. She died two years ago in a car accident. She was sixteen.” Now I was hit, as if a knife penetrated my chest. We stood there silently for a while.

“And you eat together?” I asked. He nodded.

“Yes, it’s her birthday. She is invited to come and she always comes. There will be an empty place for her.”

“Oh, I see.” He continued preparing the lunch table.

In this moment we heard an old white Toyota arriving. Samantha was running towards him. And elderly tall man with long hair jumped out of the car and hugged her for a long time. After this they had a little conversation. The old man looked at me from the distance, but did not come. Samantha had her belongings already outside my car. The grandfather went over and carried them into his. Samantha came to me and gave me a kiss and a hug. “No words, baby. Forever in my heart. Stay safe!” whispered she. She ran back to the Toyota and went inside. The tall Indian waved at me and at John and started the car. Samantha waved also and seconds later she was gone from my life. My eyes were filled with tears. I was alone again and felt the same way. I could smell snow. I looked up to the sky I realized how dark the clouds had become. Winter was coming. “Twilight time,” I murmured.

“There is a blizzard coming. Do you have a shelter anywhere?” John asked.

“Yes, I stay in a hotel outside the reservation,” I answered.

“You can stay for lunch, Frank,” he said.

I looked at him with wet eyes. “I appreciate that very much, John. Yes, I will stay for a moment.”

The family gathered on the long table in the big round room. There was quiet. The father was singing a song, the others joined him quietly. The mother cried from time to time and caressed with her hand the empty space over the chair between her and the father, who was sitting on the other end of the table than me. The two teenagers talked only between each other. The atmosphere was not dense but intense. Both love and sadness were present. I had never experienced anything like that. After half an hour, I saw snow falling outside. The lunch was almost finished. All four of the family had spoken some words to the sister, who was called Sandy Standing Wolf. For me it was time to go. I thanked them all and went out of the building. It was much colder than an hour before. I looked to the right, where the street was and sure enough there was a police car, driving slowly. I jumped into my car and drove up the sandy road behind a little hill which was passing in front of the cemetery. In this way I could hide from the street. When I looked back I saw the police car in the last moment of visibility approaching the round building. Maybe they had missed me in the heavily falling snow. I went as fast as I could onto the road north to Rocky Ford. I wanted to visit the hotel again and the Badlands. The wind came from the north where I wanted to go. I stopped my mind and tried to focus on the street. I remembered Chelsey for the first time since I met Samantha. I wondered if she remembered me sometimes in her parent’s house in Reedsburg. She probably thought of me as a careless person as well. I was indeed ashamed about the person I had been. But I felt good about the short time with Samantha. I missed Samantha as if she was a member of my family. How would she land in her harsh and tiny life again? Hopefully she had collected enough spirit power to survive with dignity.

Crazy Horse

As I drove closer to the Badlands I was faced with the unpleasant consideration what I wanted to do next. My idea was to go back to that hotel and befriend myself more with Red Hawk. We always have stories to map out the unknown territory before us. Sometimes these stories come true, sometimes not. Somehow I knew that the events would not follow up my fantasies. I had waited too long. I felt a blanket of darkness covering me more and more. Samantha had been my light for some days now. And even though we met some powerful places that may have helped her, I had not solved my problems. First I drove Creek Road through the Badlands National Park. When I reached Road 240 a police car with flashing blue rear light came towards me. After passing me I accelerated as fast as I could. The road was already filled with snow and the visibility was bad thanks to the snowfall. So far I could not see the police behind me, but I knew I had only few minutes to think about what I wanted to do. But my mind was blank. For a moment the idea came to me to just stop and to surrender. But this thought was replaced with another one, the idea of still running away. Then something strange happened again. Time slowed down and I looked at myself as if I was outside my body. I saw the police car coming back out of the white curtain. It screeched with its siren into my ears. That intense sound was taking all reason out of my mind as if an evil spirit pushed me away. Anger exploded in me with such a force that I could not resist pulling out my gun and shooting at them. I fired six shots. In the moment I thought was safe some bullets whistled through my car, one hitting me on my left shoulder and another on my head. The front window was almost blind. It was a cruel awakening. What was I doing? I was acting like an idiot until the end. Fear was consuming me. The car crashed against a nearby rock. After a moment of silence six more shots were fired at me, of which one blew through the back of my head and it was done. The vision was short but so intense that I had lost sight of driving on the road for some seconds. But I was still alive and still on the road driving. At least I thought I was driving. So I had another change. I accelerated my car as much as I could without seeing much. After some more seconds I decided to leave the road. I managed to stop the car beside it. I grabbed my jacket and opened the door. The cold icy snowstorm was not welcoming at all, but I had to keep moving. I felt as if death was behind me. I went into the hills where all was mostly covered with snow. The police car I did not hear yet. I could only see a few yards. Soon I no longer knew where I was. The snowstorm increased in strength and I walked dizzily into the unknown. I remembered Lame Deer, who spent a whole night here with thunder and lightning on top of a long dinosaur skeleton, even without knowing it until the morning. Because of these old bones this area was sacred to the natives, but for me it felt like a tomb. After a while I got tired. It was all too much. I could not run away much longer. My strength left me step by step. I found a cleft and sat there in order to find new strength. The northern wind showed no mercy. Snow blew inside and covered me. First I was paralyzed by the cold, which penetrated me from all sides. But then it went better. The sensation of cold disappeared and made space for a warm special feeling of peace. This last day with all its farewells was taken away by time and made space for the darkness of night. And because of the blizzard it was a night without stars and as black as a raven at midnight. Even the snow seemed to have lost its light. Even I was still hiding in the crack covered with snow an Indian warrior found me. A man wearing only a loincloth, withstanding with his skin and body the rigors as if he was another species. I felt his presence more then I saw his dark smooth shape. Around him lapped a strange bluish light as if a clear full moon was rising behind him. My heart was beating as if the devil himself was approaching me. “Hey, Frank, what are you doing here? You are going to die, man!” he said.

“Is it still cold out there? I feel here. But how could you find me and know my name?” His face was only dimly visible. He did not look like a well-fed man of nowadays. His lineaments were hard and unrelenting.

“I know exactly who hangs out in my lands,” he replied in a hoarse voice. I shuddered.

“So you are one of these ancient warriors? You are one of the dead?” I asked.

“Not really, ’cause there is nothing like the dead. But yes, I am a spirit warrior.” If someone like him showed up now, it would not going well for me. I was just a white man, a rascal who had forfeited his life. My little meaningless existence could come to an end within hours. There was still much life in me that I would fight, if I knew how. But he did not act like an enemy. He managed somehow to start a small fire in the rock niche, while around us the dense snowstorm was still going on.

“The police could see the fire,” I said.

He laughed. “The police will need some time to find you. Believe me.” His eyes were so strong and clear that his look caused me discomfort. Even he was much to close to me I cold not push him away. The space around the fire was filled with snow as if was an igloo of the Inuit. “I’ve been waiting for you.” He made this remark like a comment on the weather.

I did not believe he had said that. “What?”

“I knew you’d show up here because the brothers sent you.”

“Who are you?”

“I am a free warrior spirit and the guard of these lands. You can call me Tashunka Witko.” I did not believe a thing ,but I was ready to go with the play. There was no route left.

“I am Frank. And you were waiting for me? What for?”

He stayed in his certainty. “Because you have been involved with my people.” I gasped. “And it’s time to make one more move.”

“One more move? I am tired.”

“You will see. The fight is not over yet, Frank.”

“Is it not? I am done, please let me rest.”

“I am here to lead you out of this.”

“But I am just a white guy,” I complained. He smiled.

“You have a warrior’s heart, my friend. And where your heart is, your treasure will be. You have helped our little sister. You have became part of our family. Part of the good and part of the bad. I am crying for the young ones, the lost. That’s why I am still here. They need help, and you can do something for them.”

“I tried to do something, but now I am a mess.” My body was no longer cold. Or was I losing it?

“Until now, we were playing a bit with the spirit. But Samantha is only saved when we remove the bad spirit out of the system. And this bad spirit is behind you now, Frank, as you were told at the medicine wheel.”

“Fuck, I know!” I let my head rest on the soft snow in the darkness beside me. “Yes, I need help. Now, you are the man, Tashunka!”

He laughed. “Yes, I am the man. And as always I play with baits and traps. But this time you are the bait. Do you want to do this for Samantha and all the other children of my people? You have no other choice. If you don’t play with the big boys now you are dead in few minutes.”

Even I just wanted to forget all and I nodded, half asleep. “For myself, not. I am too tired. But for Samantha? I love her so much, Tashunka. Yes, I do it.”

“Okay. It’s time to leave, Frank,” he said. “The enemy is close. Only when we lure him into a trap, we have a chance. He is the most powerful dark spirit I have encountered on earth. He is killing our children.”

“The darkness is approaching again? I knew it!” He jumped up and just ran ahead. I followed him without asking myself how that was possible. The curtain of snow clouds opened and a nocturnal lunar landscape spread out before us. The land was covered with snow. First we crossed an area with sharp hills, then a vast prairie, and after that we reached a forest. Was it the Black Hills already? How could we have moved so fast?

We walked across the frozen and snow-covered lake. I was tired and wanted a break, but Tashunka was relentless.

“The enemy is close. Let’s not waste any time!” On the other side of the lake stood a lonely oak tree. It stood, black as a devil’s claw in the night. Tashunka and I went behind it to hide ourselves. He leaned against the tree and looked back to the other shore. Long time only my breath was heard until it calmed down.

“I cannot see him yet,” whispered Tashunka Witko, “but I know he is somewhere near. Let us go on. I’ll bring you to a safe place. There are two trees in the cosmos, the tree of light, and the tree of the dark forces. And you never know where you end up. But our friends on the other side know. I go ahead and you follow!” And he stepped close to the tree and pushed with his outstretched hand against it until his hand dipped into the bark. Slowly, his body disappeared into the tree.

“Tashunka, what’s this? What’s going on?” I asked.

He stuck his head out of the tree. His white teeth gleamed in the moonlight. “Do not worry. Just follow!” He disappeared and I was alone. The night wind blew through the branches of the old oak. I looked over to the forest, looming black in the moonlight. And indeed I saw something like a movement. It was time to disappear. I stepped up to the tree and pushed with all my strength against the trunk. Nothing happened. Would I really be stranded here? I tried again with more force and again nothing happened. I broke out in sweat. I saw a strange figure rushing from the shore on the white lake in my direction. He was tall and thin and moved in strange long steps as if he were flying over the ground. He had taken up our trail. I was trapped. He was so fast that my exhausted body could never escape him. I pressed gently against the bark, because I remembered that Tashunka had touched it with his fingers. Now the bark really gave way. I looked around the trunk. Where was the chaser? He was really close. I felt terror, because he had no face. I stepped into the interior of the tree and was suddenly in another world.

It was dry here, a desert of red and yellow dunes. And I was alone. Where had Tashunka lured me to? After all, I saw the traces of my friend. They moved up a slope and disappeared among the dunes. I ran after them, for the thin man should be close after me soon. But as often as I looked back, there was nobody. He had probably not found the door in the tree yet. When I went up the hill, I saw Tashunka, who had camped in front of a ruin. I stepped, fatigued, close to him. He offered me a cushion to sit on. “What have you seen?”

“A thin, tall man without a face.”

Tashunka nodded. “Yes, now we are talking. He picked up your trace, and we will lead him into his demise. After tea, we keep running.” The water was boiling in a sooty kettle, and Tashunka poured it on the tea. “It’s a tea, which glows from the inside.” He laughed. He was a great-looking guy. Much lovelier than the face on the monument in the Black Hills. His nose was shorter, and his whole face shone with beauty and charisma, including his white teeth. We did not wait long, but poured the tea between the shells, back and forth, until it was cool enough to drink. In fact, this tea seemed odd. It shone strangely as if the kettle had been vaccinated with phosphor. But I did not care much. Everything was strange here, as I had been on the whole journey west. Tashunka would know what he was offering me. I drank hastily. Then he quenched the fire and we set off again. “We have to reach the dark castle before our follower,” said Tashunka. We walked a while in silence under the stars.

Slowly, I realized the walls of a city that emerged in the dim light of the night.

We walked up the wide road through the empty city until we beheld a forum on the right-hand side. There was a protracted plaza in Roman style, framed by a double row of columns. This place was filled with a crowd-like atmosphare. Tashunka went exactly there. This caused me great discomfort. There were dozens, maybe hundreds, of marble statues. We entered this forest of silent figures standing in the moonlight. They were engaged in fierce battles with monsters or among them. Others were entwined in passion, others in the posture of prayerful reverence to the gods. It was like a snapshot of a panoramic drama a long time ago. In this ancient past, there must have been another cosmos in the minds of men. This flow of time was frozen in stone and seemed to wait for the return of life. Although Tashunka was thoroughly an Indian native, this world of Greek mythology did not seem to be alien to him. He had already spent more than a hundred years in the world of spirits.

“What are we doing here?” I asked anxiously.

“We are raising this dead world unto life again,” he whispered, with a mischievous smile. “Do you see how they begin to move?”

I shuddered. We stood still and listened. And indeed, a faint whispering and sighing went through the statues that had stood for millennia in silence. “We have to run,” said my guide, and started to run again. I was running after him. The figures began to move. First lightly, as if they thawed out from a long freeze, then easily, and more alive. I ran as fast as I could and dodged some swords that whizzed me through the air. Seconds later, I had managed to escape the forum.

Tashunka and I met further up on Town Hill. He was relaxed and cool, and I was on short breath. We looked back. The figures calmed down and were soon as frozen as before. But where was our persecutor? Tashunka did suspect him, seemingly close behind us. “Let’s go further!” he said softly.

On and on we went up until we reached the ruins, which rose black from the desert sands into the moonlight night. “Somewhere here there should be a dark throne,” said Tashunka. “So watch out.”

“A dark throne with a bad guy sitting on it? Do we have not already enough shit to deal with?” I lamented.

“Yes, I know what you mean,” said Tashunka. “My job as a guardian is only to clean pathways and to open gates to the higher realms. Whether someone follows me or not is his free decision. A savior can’t do more than this. He just has to wait until everyone is ready. You are here to help me to open up a new way.”

We walked through the open entrance. The ground was filled with sand and covered with debris of the fallen vault. We walked between the chunks. This could have been a church or temple long time ago. At both sides of this old building were some mirrors hanging, reflecting to each other spaces that did not exist. “This whole building is like another world in itself, flying on the dark side of the universe. And these mirror matrices are traps to keep one here. Maybe we can catch the thin man in the mirror world when you are fast enough.” He smiled at me.

“Thank you for the offering,” I said.

At the end of the elongated building, we reached a large hexagonal room which had access to other spaces. I could see these big rooms well because all their ceilings had fallen down and they were therefore not entirely hidden in the shade. But in the middle of this central space was a powerful spiral staircase going up. The ceiling above the room was still intact. A pale light from the top shone down on us. “Let’s go upstairs,” Tashunka whispered to me. We went slowly up the wide staircase, which wound around a thick stone pillar. Everything here was black, carved out of dark granite.

When we got to the top, we found another hexagonal space. Before us was a powerful open gate. Behind stretched a long room, a kind of hall. Light shone, palely through many large windows. At the end of the room was something conspicuous, something dark, like a throne.

“Why do we go here?” I asked.

“Because we have to go.” Tashunka drew a long knife from a scabbard and went with soft steps toward this throne. I followed him reluctantly. I did not like it here at all; it was all too strange and departed. My only available space was beside my guide. I felt trapped in a dream world, without a return ticket. Although we tried to be quiet, our steps caused a slight shuffle in the silence of this strange night. We drew closer to the throne, and I noticed with palpitations that someone sat on it.

“The ruler of the dark tree,” whispered Tashunka.

A figure in black, sitting on the throne of dark granite, grunted and sat up in its seat. “So here you are! I have been waiting for you a while.”

“Yes, we are here again. We have but one thing to say. The time of you laying a dark blanket upon the world is almost over,” said Tashunka. “My people will be free again!”

The man seemed to be smiling. His face remained hidden under a dark hood. “That is a nice wish, but not more. I do what I always have done, and nobody is here to give me any orders. And I have nothing else to do. Without my influence, the world would be a boring place, everybody in deep sleep. And as long as I can do what I do, I’m doing it. This will go on like always, until all are woken up by the intensity of the pain in this world. Don’t tell me I am not doing God’s will,” he laughed.

Tashunka swung his long knife at the man’s head. But he did it more as an empty gesture. The man on the throne waved. “Never mind, I can only show the way, as you, but I can’t spare it. You must look at your own darkness, Tashunka Witko, you savior of the world. And one more thing—” He smiled at Tashunka, who reluctantly put his sword again into its sheath. “You’ve been here many times before. And whenever you were seeking to kill me, I was no longer there. But come gladly again, if you have questions. I wait for you here until you have solved the riddle of the world.”

Tashunka grunted and turned to leave. “And you there, kid!” said the dark man to me. I shuddered. “Think you well, whom you follow. With me, you have bread and shelter and love in abundance. Following this guy, you will find only death. Like many times before.” He laughed a short, deep laugh that swung like a never-ending echo through the long halls, as if trying to lure me away from Tashunka’s track. But I persevered and went with him to the mirror hall. But it was too late to escape. There was Slenderman already coming towards us. We could not pass him.

“So follow me, this is perfect!” Tashunka whispered and jumped into one of the mirrors. I did the same. We ran along a never-ending doorway that was dark, but got brighter after some seconds. Tashunka looked back. I did the same. There he was, the Slenderman. He moved with big steps towards us.

“Okay, now we have to follow the escape way, but fast,” Tashunka whispered. He jumped into a mirror on the left side and then jumbed back to the right again. I did the same. Every mirror opened another infinite pathway that led nowhere. All the space was a poor illusion. After a few more turns, we thought we were safe. We were standing there looking into this empty world and trying to hear or sense something. But there was nothing. But suddenly Slenderman jumped out of the next mirror and was right behind us. Luckily, Tashunka still had the map in his mind. We jumped left and right until we were in the hall of mirrors again and ran out of the castle. From the upper hall, we heard the emperors laughter. For a moment, our pursuer was not there. Once I left the dark ruins, Tashunka led me to a sandy hill on the left. There we lay flat on the ground and watched the castle. The moon barely moved further in the time we spent here. After some moments, Slenderman came out of the castle. He was still moving as if gliding over ice without touching the ground. He looked around with his sightless face. We lowered our heads and waited. It was a scary moment. And indeed he had sensed us already. When I raised my head, I saw him coming up the hill in our direction.

“We have to run now to the forum,” Tashunka whispered. “There will be a portal into another world open for us. This is the next trap. You follow me closely! If you are too late, you will be captured here as one of these stone figures for a long time.” He jumped up and ran straight into the forum. I followed him as fast as I could. The tall man was halfway up our hill and sensed our getaway immediately. He changed his direction and stalked also us into the same direction as we, to cut off our escape. Tashunka was faster than I and escaped him. I was too slow. Slenderman blocked the way to the forum. I ran into a crossroads to the right and then another to the left. I arrived at the forum and just saw Tashunka running into the midst of the large number of marble statues. They were all perfectly motionless, but they found no rest. They were trying to suck in all the life that came close to them, as if they could exchange one day being of stone in favor of the transitory life of flesh and blood. Their sentiments towards life were not friendly, I felt a sense of horror. Probably because they themselves were dead and perceived life only from an external perspective, they tried to fathom its secrets by entering into it, tearing it apart, and chopping it, to find life between the dead scraps, but missing its secret, which was its wholeness. They began to move again and to swing their swords. They were not able to walk away from their location, but their strong arms had a long reach. Tashunka ran on and moved like a dancer or big cat at high speed between them. Half a second was enough for him to escape a fatal blow. I was too anxious and waited without doing anything, even though Slenderman was somewhere behind me, so I spent way too much time, and the gruesome figures before me awakened more and more to life. They reminded me of battles fought a long time ago when we were together, losing our friends one by one in slaughter. I could sense the burned dreams of many lifetimes; all came down to ashes, blowing in the wind. These guys were still there, in a place I had left behind in other ages.

“Come on, Frank!” shouted Tashunka. He was standing now before the saving figure of the goddess Mother Earth. But behind me was Slenderman. He touched my shoulder, and my energy leve immediately dropted.

“You have no right to live any more,” he whispered. “You have no value at all. Come now with me. I will give you atonement for your sins.” I could feel his vision of a solution already. It was the return to nothingness, the forgetting of all that ever had existed. He pulled me back, and indeed, his solution seemed quite convincing. What could Tashunka really offer me? I still had the memory of the accident in me, even though temporarily I had been distracted from it. I was a killer and destroyer of lives. There was nothing that could take that awareness away from me. “Come now, I offer eternal release,” Slenderman said quietly.

“No!” yelled Tashunka, still fighting with the stone figures around him. “Only life can offer you release, not death. You are forever holy, like everything else that lives. And you can’t die. Do you want to stay here forever? This is boring, Frank, dead boring!”

I had one more moment to make a decision. Did I want to freeze in fear and stay here in the dark desert of nothing? Should I take the chance that I had already lost? I chose life, and immediately I got into the same flow as Tashunka was in. Suddenl,y I left Slenderman behind and jumped into the mass of marble figures. I was faster than the warriors of stone. Time and space seemed to have changed around me. It was like sliding down a water park tube. Only by this miracle could I survive a second. I reached the sitting Gaia and jumped into her lap. A moment later, I was in another world, submerged in twilight. A world of wet scrub. We ran in a tangle of dark paths that ranged deeper into the night. I sensed strange beings who leered at me from the deeper part of the wilderness. I only saw their eyes shimmering in greenish. They were maybe angry at being disturbed the first time in ages. Where the hell was Tashunka? How could he be so fast and so unfaithful? He was a crack, I knew it! But I was not. Unfortunately, there were also lianas that pulled their arms around me. I tried to escape them as fast as I could, but because the forest was too dee,p they caught me. Shortly after being trapped, I was totally tied up. I sensed Slenderman close behind me. But he could not reach me, also being shackled. Was that it? I did´t need much time to fall into deep despair. I had never felt so lost. The forest was still alive, but it was out there to eat me. The lianas did not stop growing until they finished all movement. They were slimy and a bit rotten-smelling. Would they eat me now? My breath was short and shallow, and I was shaking. What a strange trap. Why had Tashunka led me here?

“Relax!” he said suddenly from somewhere not too far. “You have to get out of here before Slenderman does it. This is a trap, but not for you. Come now!”

“How, Tashunka? I can’t move. I am fixed!”

“You relax and become like a snake. When I can do it, you can do it. You go up. Be a snake!”

“Fuck, Tashunka! What are you talking about!”

“Just do it. Stop discussing!” I had no other choice. I relaxed and tried to circumvent a big liana that was my main fetter. It seemed impossible to get away from her. She was too strong. But then I realized that my body was different now. I could really move like a snake. I was much more flexible. In the moment I released my beliefs about what was possible I was almost free. I moved fast in Tashunka’s direction. “Good!” he said. But Slenderman had also learnt within minutes to be more flexible. He was not far behind us.

“Let’s burn this asshole!” He now threw fire into the forest around us. I had to move as fast as I could to escape it until I reached the end of the forest. I was without breath. We sat on the ground and looked back. The forest was burning like dry tinder. The strange creatures with their green eyes escaped it easily; they ran into the next forest, but not Slenderman. He was bursting into flames. We could hear his cries. Until the end, I expected him to come out of the forest, but he did not. The resistance of the forest was too strong. “The fire is just the sun,” Tashunka said. “There are all these beings that are transformed into something better. Good job, Frank!” We waited until the fire was out. Only ashes were left from the trees. Of Slenderman, nothing remained. “There is a prophecy for the dark forces. They will come back to earth for three days and nights, and they will kill everyone who is afraid,” Tashunka said.

“So better not to be afraid,” I said.

“Yes.”

I was exhausted but happy. Later, we came to a rocky massif, which stood out from the wet scrub forest. Tashunka ran nimbly as a gazelle up the hill. I followed him, breathing heavily. “That’s all right, that’s just a dream,” I whispered to myself, but it did not get easier by doing that.

From the top we saw a cold, silent landscape. Only the night wind whispered barely through the silence. Tashunka’s long black hair blew around his face. We saw a light in the distance. “Are these friends?” I asked.

Tashunka made a gesture. “I am not sure. I think it is a man with whom we can talk.”

“What are we looking for here?” He looked at me and smiled. “Now, are we looking for the parts you have lost?”

“During the accident?”

“Not only then. All your life, you have given away pieces of your soul, mostly unconsciously. Sometime,s because you received things that you did not want to receive without repaying anything. Now you have almost lost everything. But the accident was your biggest loss.”

“And my soul shall be somewhere around here?”

He nodded. “Here is a term does not mean the same thing at our level of existence, because there is no separation here and therefore no elsewhere. Everything is inside, therefore it’s here and what we are looking for will fall into our hands, when it’s time.”

“But am I worthy to be healed?” I asked anxiously.

“What do you think?”

I shook my head. “No, I do not think so.”

“First, you have to forgive yourself this. Only then can you be healed.” I gulped and nodded to myself. We walked for some time without saying a word. Only our footsteps made a sound.

I heard the voices of women who whispered to me, “You are here for nothing, you fool, not one of you has ever survived, dead are they, all are dead. Dead forever. And you can’t go back to the living, because you gambled your life away. But come with us, then we play until you decay into dust.”

Tashunka shouted something to me, but I didn´t understand it. I was dazed, and yet I stumbled further and further. Then we reached the cave. The fire was still burning, but no one was there. There were a few belongings, a leather bag, a jacket, a sleeping bag. We sat and waited. I fell asleep. The fire lit up in the background of my mind. When I had woken up again, there sat another man with Tashunka, an old native Indian with white hair. He looked at me grimly and shook his head. Tashunka’s face was also serious now. “What are you doing here, boy? This is no place for the living. If there was a way back, I would show it to you. But there is none.”

“Tashunka led me here. I was lost in a snowstorm.”

The old Indian nodded to himself. “You have to accept what happened. Only the brave can. The others are cowards. For us, the whites of today are weaklings. They perform no hero duty any more. They distract themselves and indulge in superficial pleasures. They lost their strength in their daily routine or survival. Now you have to leave everything behind.” He looked at me.

That was scary. “I am very afraid,” I said. “Everything I have lost already. I had come in 1989 from East Germany here, and now all my dreams are burned and my body is laid somewhere under a snowdrift in the Badlands and will be discovered only in some days. And my spirit is still dreaming of you Indians a while. I hope there are still better dreams to come.”

The two Dakota smiled. “Are there better dreams to come?” The old man asked. “Wovoka had seen his people living in a healed world of peace and abundance. But that is not what we talking about now. This is the end of all dreams.” He looked at me with eyes that glowed from within. “You had occupied a fixed position in the universe. Our warriors did the same, otherwise they could not fight. But there were times of peace, when we lost ourselves in infinity. That you must do too if you want to win the life that doesn’t pass.”

“I do not know how. How should I give up my position?”

“Let go of everything and yourself as well!” I stood there and thought about how I should do that. But suddenly I received an impact of the old man like a flash and I flew down the slope. I fell into a bottomless dream.

Soon, I was no longer alone. Eerie creatures flew around me, first from a distance, then getting closer, and I was still falling. They looked at me with anger. But soon they turned into colored shards of other worlds, falling down with me. They created behind them a network of paths that led through this endless dark universe. They all led to different experiences. I ended up in a graveyard landscape. It was quiet. The moon was still pale in light, and fog caressed the gravestones. I heard nothing but the fine rain that fell from the fog onto the stones. I walked between the stones. Would someone suddenly wave at me from his grave? I wondered. This world was waiting to devour me. But nothing stirred. Where were all those dead people? Did they actually rest underneath the stones? Or did they not exist anymore, because death had ended their existence? I entered the ruin of an old church, in which the light of the night shone from the sides and top. On the altar was still a crucifix standing. It was not a dead Christ, but rather as he was depicted in the Romanesque period as a living savior who embraced the world. This gesture was seemingly irrelevant here, because no one was alive any more, who needed blessing or help. All life was sunk and turned to dust. Jesus embraced nothingness. I looked at the graves again. An old question haunted me again. Why did anything exist, when nothingness was the final answer to all existence? I heard someone breathing behind me. I was startled and spun around. There was suddenly a throne where the altar was standing seconds before, and on it sat the dark emperor. “Well, you’ve already allied yourself with nothing?” he asked. I just sighed. For some long minutes we both were silent and listened to the fine rain falling down onto the stones out there. Here we were together, looking at the button of existence. He got up, passed me and walked slowly out until he stopped in front of the church. I followed him. “You asked the right question. In face of death what kind of purpose can still make sense?” he asked. “What do you think?” he wanted to know.

I pondered. My faith had evaporated over the course of the last months. “Life is nothing that goes beyond itself. It exists for a while and passes away. There is no other answer. The living never really encounter death, and being dead they are not there any more to ask the question.”

The emperor smiled. “The answer of the clever people, yes, I am proud of you. In other words you don’t believe in any creator?” His voice was only moderately interested. He looked tired. Was he after my spirit? Had I just gambled away my soul?

“I don’t know. Nothing comes from nothing, right? So, if all goes nowhere, there was nothing in the first place and it came out of nowhere. In other words nothing ever existed.”

He nodded. “Great consideration.”

“Are you the nothingness?” I wanted to know of him, while my heart was beating.

The dark man smiled at me, amused. “You are very close to it, my dear. We are talking about illusions and mirrors. You have seen them in my house. How do you thing the world was made in the spirit of those who want to see it?” We looked out into the cemetery. “That’s all this has ever been, mirages and reflections?” I asked.

He agreed. “Yes, if you’re out, it has never been. But when you’re inside, there is nothing else. So, it’s paradoxical. From inside you can’t make sense out of it. Plato was the last one who had known it. God has not created mirages and illusions; there you can rest assured, and neither did I. The dreamers of the world have asked for this, and I protect their dreams, nothing else.”

“Am I still inside?”

“Yes, you’re still in the midst of it.” I looked at him and he nodded at me. I was not sure if he wanted something from me or not. Maybe he just tried to pass some time, out of a boring eternity. I waved him goodbye and walked away. I wandered on roads over vast plains. The moon moved slowly to the west behind me and making space for a new dawn. Hours later, I stood on a sunlit meadow. And I was not alone anymore. A little girl came out of the sunlight, running through the wet, tall shining grass. It was the same girl I had killed. Her hair blew in the wind over the vast grasslands. It was probably a summer prairie. “You have been looking for this woman,” said the girl, pointing to a figure on a nearby hill who was walking over the grass. It was the woman who had distracted me.

“No, she didn’t distracted you,” said the little sad girl, as if she had read my mind. “You were not paying attention. You should have been more careful. Now I can’t be with my family. I fly alone through worlds that mean nothing to me. The only place where I want to be is home, where I can’t.”

“I’m sorry!” I cried and fell down before her feet.

She took a deep breath. “Do not cry, Frank. Be strong! You have to finish your affairs now. And I will see all of my family again, one day. But now I’m sad. Be strong! Only then can you earn my respect again.” She disappeared. Behind her, I saw tipis with little smoke trails rising over them standing in the summer breeze. Children played on a nearby river. Perhaps this was one of the places some Indian prophets had talked about. Everything was shining in clearer colors than I had ever seen. I dared not to enter the village. I still felt like an outcast. The people saw me but did not react. They neither sent me away nor did they invite me in. After sitting there for some hours, I jumped into the river and let it bring me into the ocean. It was nice to swim in the river. The water was fresh without ever being cold. It washed around the stones, so I was never hurt. After some hour,s the river reached the wide sea.

I sank into its waters and swam with dolphins. These animals had shining eyes and smiled at me as if they knew much more than I. They were playful and happy and tried to tease me into joining them. So I played with them. I was astonished again and again about the impression of their eyes. Even though I was already on a level of existence much higher than I had known until now, they seemed to come from high above. I had never seen a similar expression on earth, maybe only one time in Laos. There was an old man sitting and smiling at me at the edge of an opium field, smoking his pipe. But these dolphins were cracks because they were laughing within themselves not about me, but about the state I was in. And even though they knew me thoroughly, they loved me anyway. Until no,w I was always hiding my darkness away, but here I could not and they just laughed. They saw the bigger picture. The journey seemed almost to go on well, but there was suddenly a voice in my mind lamenting, “No, let’s not plunge into the ocean of bliss too long. We have still work to do!” Something was trying to pull me back up into the grim world of death. But I tried to stay in bliss as long as I could. Of cours,e I was not the one to decide where the journey was heading. Suddenly there passed a massive wavepassed over me and the dolphins. Something big was approaching. They disappeared into the deep within seconds, and I came up to the surface. I looked around and discovered a big storm on the horizon. I went to the beach and decided to move inland. The land was dry; it had become a desert. I looked back because I still sensed that I was being hunted. I saw indeed something in the distance. A black animal was on my track. It moved not too fast but lissom. It would take him only an hour to reach me. Damn! I nodded to myself. “Guess what, it’s my old friend again.” When I looked back to the coast, I realized that the storm was not moving to the coast. He was just standing there at the far horizon. His task had only been to move me out of the water. This was not yet my storm, but one would come for m,e I was sure. The day was over fast and made space for another night. A full moon was rising behind me. But soon I was not alone anymore. Tashunka Witko was waiting for me on a hilltop, his long hair waving in the wind.

“Nice to see you back my friend!” he said and clapped my shoulder. “Did you enjoy your little vacations?”

“No comment,” I murmured.

“We go a little further here, where everything is blurred. Nothing can be seen clearly. Ghosts of the past will resurface. Look at your mind. What do you invite? What do you imagine?”

“The jaguar is still behind me,” I said.

“Don’t worry about him right now. We will address him when his time has come.” I was fed up with his adventures. If I could disappear into nothingness forever, I would have chosen it. We walked down a narrow path. Left and right were dark bushes standing in the pale light. Tashunka went ahead. We reached the round temple of the jaguar standing in a small valley. The stone panther was sitting in the middle and looked to the east. He was powerful in gray-blue. “What are we doing here?” I asked.

Tashunka looked intently at the sculpture.

“This is a dangerous place. Let’s go,” I whispered.

“Demons hide here everywhere. We must liberate them from their own entrapment. When we move on, then the land must be pure behind us,” Tashunka insisted. That was not the answer I wanted to hear. But I could not do anything. I felt fear, but also trust, because I was sure that Crazy Horse would protect me in any circumstance. So we waited a while until the big cat began to rumble.

“What are you doing here?” a voice growled.

“We want to see you,” said Tashunka.

“I want to see no one. You run away, as long as you have time.”

“We will only go after you have shown up here,” he said. The voice broke in a roar, as if the jaguar would jump on us, but he was only made of stone. On closer listening, the roar sounded no longer like that of a jaguar. It was more like the cry of a thousand monkeys. And that was bad news, as we soon would see. A little ugly monkey stepped out from behind the sculpture.

“That’s you, then!” said Tashunka. “A little monkey!” The monkey grinned. Evil shone unhidden in his eyes.

“You should not have come here,” he hissed, and he doubled himself into two. Out of the two came fou,r then eight, so it went on until its amount was uncountable.

“Let’s get out!” hissed Tashunka. But it was too late. We run into the desert but the thousand monkeys were behind us. They yelled in a deafening way. As fast as we run they came closer. Even Tashunka could not elude them. They finally surrounded us and began to bite us everywhere. It was hell. Each bite took away a small piece of meat from our bodies. We screamed and ran, but there was no escape. The pain only subsided after a no meat was left. The monkeys disappeared with a victory-rich cry.

And there we were, two skeletons. Dead and yet alive. “Was that it? Are we dead now?” I wanted to know. No comment. We marched silently further through the desert. “We lost everything,” I whined. “Our lives and our health. I can never eat or drink or embrace a woman again. They only run when they see me. Everything that makes life beautiful is over now.”

Tashunka made a scoffing noise when I was not wrong. We were still breathing, although we had no lungs doing it. We can still move things around with our thoughts, including the air. “You’re still alive, even though your flesh is gone. We must continue to go further into the darkness to find the source of all evil. We have no choice,” he said.

I was desperate. I had wasted my whole life with one mistake after another. And the desert did not have to offer anything exciting. The black panther finally reached us. He was exhausted, his mouth open. He was not particularly interested in me or Tashunka, he just wanted to have company. “Nothing to eat for him any more, can you see?” Tashunka asked. It seemed as if he was smiling.

“Good catch, Tashunka!” Our footsteps crunched softly in the desert sand. But even after we had walked for days, we got nowhere. “It’s hopeless,” I said. “You brought me into this situation. We are dead but trapped in hell. Why did you not let me die in the snowstorm? For me, it was okay.”

Tashunka shook his head. “You were already dead. Don’t think you lost something. You were already nothing. From here, you can only escape when you have a wish, a wish for something true. Are you ready for the next step?”

I did not know what to say. So far, all things had become worse and worse with every change, but after another night of senseless marching with him and the panther, I was ready. What may come could only be better than this. Even nothingness was better. “Okay, I’m ready,” I said.

Tashunka stopped and raised his bone hands. He still had his long hair on his skull. “Breath of the earth, who has left us, rush forth from the east. Crumble everything here to dust, that’s not dust yet!” He dropped his empty hands for a long moment and stood motionless. We waited, two skeletons and the jaguar in the morning sun. From a distance, a rumbling arose, first subtly, then increasingly loud until it had become a roar. The jaguar looked at me one last time with his piercing, shining eyes. He seemed to ask a question, but which one?

Then we were hit by the sandstorm like a wall. We were thrown away and flew through the air. The wind atomized our bones, the last things that were left of us. Finally, we were blown and flew with the clouds of sand to the north. It was a strange feeling to fly through the air like this and to continue to spread into the vastness of the sky. We drove and flew and flew until we became a snowstorm. I saw very quickly that we were back in South Dakota. I had lost my body, but was returned as a snowflake. We landed on the barren hills of the Badlands and were soon shrouded under a blanket of snow.

“Hey, Tashunka, where are you?” I cried. Everything was quiet.

“Let go!” he shouted. “Forget who you were. Let it all go! You are no longer a human. Forget it!”I thought that was not nice, although it was clear that I was only a snow crystal. The wind blew me away. Soon, I was over the white, barren lands of Pine Ridge. Samantha was outside her grandfather’s trailer, despite the blizzard. She had her new medicine pipe in her hand. I landed on her cheek. My crystal structure withstood her only for a second, then I melted away as a sign of total surrender. As I realized that she was cryin,g I asked Tashunka why.

“She remembers you, my friend, and she cries for all the lost people. What I was shown, she will be shown. What I was asked to do, she will be also asked to do.”

I woke up and it was cold and dark and wet. I did not know where I was. Slowly it came to me that I was still alive. I could feel my whole body. I moved my fingers and feet and asked myself if I could manage to get out of here. Over me could be a lot of snow. I started to pull snow from the ceiling of my little cave town and step on it, to preserve a little space for breathing. I did not have to do this for long; the brilliant white daylight shone suddenly in my eyes. I had to wait some minutes to be able to see. I crawled out of my hole and let my eyes wander around. The sky was blue, the land was white and grey. It was quiet, except the distant noise of the Interstate. I tried to orient myself and slowly made my way back to the road. My clothing was a bit wet, and the air was cold. So I had to hurry in order not to become sick again. The road was already free from snow. My car was just standing there beside it. The police had not taken it yet. It was strange after my long journey into the spirit world to move my tired and heavy body again. I shoveled my car free of snow and moved back to my hotel. I knew what I had to do now. My mind was clear and for the first time in many years. I had a moment of this clarity when I was a boy. My parents, my sister, and I were in the High Mountains, surrounded by fresh air, sun, and some clouds. We were sitting on a slope with a meadow and eating lunch that my parents had carried for us. This was the best food ever; fresh bread with sausage and also black tea. My little seven-year-old sister was like an angel at that time, with curly blond hair and a happy temperament. Unfortunately, I did not remember playing with her at all. I was looking more for my parents ‘ attention than giving them any. I was not aware that the time with my sister was precious and limited. Only when she was a teenager did we have some good times together. We both as many of our friends were reading the German classics and world scriptures. But much interesting world literature was not available in East Germany, so people shared the books they had as much as possible. The fact that we both were in a Lutheran youth group helped us a lot to get other points of views and none government information. My sister stayed in Germany while I went to the States. We had not much contact during some years, until she became a major illness. Even I felt helpless concerning her condition, we wrote emails and had short phone calls. Than she died one day, far away from me, in the presence of our mother. That was two years ago. But now the sadness was gone and I remembered only the good moments in the mountains. In that time I could relax and open my heart. I remembered it now and let the love flow back into my chest. Maybe this was a kind of healing. I was standing in the hotel lobby lost in memory. Red Hawk discovered me and smiled. I smiled too, being really happy to see her.

“What happened to you?”

“I was spending the night out there,” I responded. “Do you have any dry clothing, darling?”

She shook her head. “No, but I can dry them. You can lay yourself down in a free room and I do it for you, okay?”

“Yes, that would be nice. Did the police ask for me?”

She nodded. “Yes, they did.”

“You can tell them I am here. When my clothes are dry, okay?”

“Okay, I will do,” She said sadly. She put an old blanket over one of the prepared beds; another for covering and there I had my bed, so I could sleep a while until she brought me my dried clothing. “You can call them yourself.”

She sat on my bed and gave me the hotel telephone. I called the next sheriff in Rapid City and told him about my case. He was interested to see me and promised to send a patrol in one or two hours. “What have you done?” Red Hawk asked me. I told her my whole story about the accident and about Samantha. She was touched. “And now you want to turn yourself in?” she asked doubtfully.

I smiled and nodded. “Yes, because of Crazy Horse. I spend the whole night with him out there.”

Her eyes started to shine. “Tell me more about it!” I tried to give her a short version of last night’s adventures. She did not really know what to say. “Wow, Frank.” But I was tired.

“Right now I still have to sleep,” I said and went back to my bed until the police picked me up. They brought me to the nearest police station and after a short interview they put me in one of their cells. I spent two hours there, without knowing my further destiny. But for the first time since the accident I was at peace.

The tall blond police officer took me to his office. He looked at me in an astonished manner. “Your case will be opened again. Until then you can stay out of jail. It seems somebody important intervened on your behalf. Also the mother of the child said that she does not want to see you in prison.”

I was shocked and started to cry, shaken by compassion and humility.

“You are a lucky man, sir!” The officer said.

“Maybe, now, but do you really want to say that?” I responded.

He agreed. “No, what happened to you is every driver’s worst scenario. But if something like that happens to us is only in God’s hands. I bring you back to the hotel, sir.”

“Thank you, sir.”

After returning I sat on the bar and told Red Hawk about what had happened. She was speechless. “My God, maybe you don’t have to go to prison, Frank! Do you want to stay more in the hotel?” she asked.

“Yes, I would like to. I have two weeks until the trial. And you are the only friend I have out here.”

She smiled with a serious touch on it and gave me a long look. “If you want, you can also stay in my house. Maybe it works out,” she said. “But you have to wait for me until I am finished here at nine p.m.”

I was surprised. She was beautiful but alone, lost in these lands, where nothing was going on. I felt something between us that could be true. “Yes, I’ll come gladly to your house,” I said.

She nodded and looked down. A whole new future opened up for me. “See you, then,” she said, giving me a shy look and moved back to her work. I went out again to the snow covered Badlands where my friends the crows were sitting and watching. I remembered Samantha. Maybe I should find out where she lived. I had seen her barn in the vision. That was not the best idea, it would not be like before on the road. But how she was doing I could find out at some of the helping associations around here. I tried to contact Tashunka Witko but failed. This land was not like the Baraboo area, full of hills and forests. Here it was empty and dry, but people had touched me here in a way I had not experienced since I opened that book about Indians as a boy. I had a warm feeling in my heart and happiness and excitement when I thought of Red Hawk. Maybe it was time for me to move west.

The Highway

The road on Highway 90 pulled in the length since I was on the run because an event in Chicago. From Illinois it went north over Wisconsin. This state was characterized by many cornfields, maroon-painted barns in Dutch style and sandstone cliffs towered isolated in the northern forests. Wisconsin allowed only sixty-five miles per hour, which was much too slow for me. I only wanted to go away. Minnesota is behind the Mississippi. It had more variety and was lovelier than Wisconsin, but was still a pure agrarian state.

It took me around six hours to get through this state. Although I could drive a little faster here than in Wisconsin, the time was passing in agonizing slowness. That was certainly caused by my situation. Finally South Dakota was reached. This state had a part of the Great Plains, which were now divided by fences. Buffalos I did not see but there were some in the Black Hills and Yellowstone National Park. Then, finally I saw the Badlands. Here was the land of my dreams in front of me.

Behind I could already see the Black Hills and the foothills of the Rocky Mountains in the distance. I reached my exit on Highway 96 and followed the road until I was in a little town. I went to the only motel and rented a room. I threw myself on the bed and took a well-deserved siesta. The darkness of November enveloped me, and covered the world with thinly veiled despair. This darkness I had nothing to. After an hour, I got up and looked out of the window. The day could not be grayer. The time just before the beginning of winter has always been the bleakest for me. Maybe I should have a beer I thought, to calm my soul a bit. So I got into my Toyota and drove through the village.

The last village before Pine Ridge

The hick town consisted of some new houses, rundown trailer and abandoned cabins, gutted cars and wooden board piles. The icy wind blew through the big open spaces. In America much of what was no longer needed was simply left to decay. To the appearance of villages and towns we gave little thought. The emptiness of the place sank deep into me. As terrible as it was here, here I was absolutely right. I wanted to achieve nothing more, just forget. I wanted to get rid of my burden. I could not bear it any more. Perhaps it would have been best to go in jail for the rest of my life. But I was afraid of myself. I would constantly think about the accident and probably go insane. So I was looking for the opposite of memory, forgetting. The only bar was quickly found; only there shone a red light. I sat at the bar, where a pretty woman in her thirties waited for the rare customers.

“A beer, please!”

“Sure!”

“How far is it to the Pine Ridge Reservation?”

“Not far, only fifteen miles. But what do you want there?” She could see that I was a white man. She was certainly a native.

“I want to see Wounded Knee.”

“Why do you want to go there?”

“I read about the massacre. The Dakota were part of my childhood.”

She shook her head.

“This is our holiest place. Of course you can go there. But you will not find anything. Only emptiness and cold wind.”

“Yes, I know,” I said. She smiled sadly. I drank a beer and tried again to catch a smile from her, but she just looked at me seriously. The next morning I took a thin coffee and ate the sweet pancakes that are served here in America for breakfast.

I usually ate fruit and vegetables, not being so fat. The waitress was back. She smiled at me, like to an old acquaintance. “Are you going to Wounded Knee?” she asked.

I said no. “I have lost heart. I drive today only into the Badlands.”

“Beware! There’s a crazy ghost,” She said. I pulled amazed my eyebrows. Our eyes met for a long moment. From her beamed something towards me that surprised me. A warmth that was almost love. This spark met my heart. I had not encountered love for a long time. I could have cried. “What kind of ghost?” I wanted to know. She did not flinch. “The spirits of the ancient dragons who are here and a warriors from the times of the Indian wars. Crazy Horse and many others.”

“Must I be afraid?” I asked. She looked at me directly with this inexplicable affection but also dismissively, as if she wanted to test me.

“That all depends,” she remarked.

“Hm,” I said, trying to understand.

“Don’t worry,” I said then. “I am not here as a tourist. I come as someone who wants to forget. I have to leave my old life behind. And I do not know what else to hope for.”

She listened to my words carefully. Then she nodded. “Then you are perhaps in the right place. The spirits can help if you are humble.”

“What is your name?”

“Red Willow.”

“I’m Brian. I hope we meet again.” She nodded without saying anything, but she seemed to feel the same.

The Badlands

Despite of heavy snowing I went outside and drove to the Badlands.

The snow was thick when I stopped. I could not recognize the karstified hills which were near north. I got out of the car. The snow was blowing around my nose. It was a cold blizzard, racing from North Dakota to the south, always along the eastern edge of the Rockies. It was the first this year. I went into the midst of the snowstorm. Soon I no longer knew where I was. The snow was everywhere and no rocks or hills were visible. I went on and on and thought I had lost myself in the prairie, but then plunged still a slope in front of me. I was still in the Badlands. The snowstorm increased in strength and I walked joyfully into the unknown. My thoughts went back in time.

I was not paying attention for a moment and killed someone. From that instant on I was on the run. But for some days I sensed the FBI on my heels. Maybe I was just getting paranoid. Everywhere I saw black cars and police cars. And furthermore it was the beginning of a strange season during the year. The world had become colder and darker recently. I walked and walked and lost track of time. It was amazing how extensive the Badlands were. Lame Deer, one of the last great Dakota medicine men had described in his book how he had spent a whole night with thunder and lightning on top of a long dinosaur skeleton here, even without knowing it until the morning. Because of these old bones this area was sacred to the natives. I had lost all sense of holiness. I was so tired of myself that I stomped deeper and deeper into the blizzard. At dawn, I sat down, exhausted. First I was paralyzed by the cold, which penetrated me from all sides. The wind from the north showed no mercy. But then it went better. The sensation of cold disappeared and made space for a warm special feeling of peace.

Crazy Horse – Tashunka Witko

In this strange night, which was without stars and in itself as black as a raven at midnight in the snow, a warrior appeared to me: a man wearing only a loincloth, withstanding with its skin and body the rigors as if he were from another planet. I felt his presence more than I saw his dark, smooth shape. Around him lapped a strange bluish light, as if the moon was rising behind him.

“Hey, Brian, what are you doing here in the snowstorm? You’re going to die, man!” he said.

“How do you know my name?” I asked, confused. His face was only dimly visible. He was not like an effeminate man of today. His lineaments were hard and unrelenting.

“I know exactly who hangs out in my land,” he replied in a hoarse voice. I shuddered.

“Are you Crazy Horse?” I asked. This greatest warrior of the Dakota tribe had been killed a few dozen miles south of here a hundred years ago. His grave was unknown. But he still haunted hereabouts in the minds of whites and natives, as one who called to freedom, meaning death for the former, and life for the latter. If someone like him showed up now, it was not going well for me. I was just a white man, a rascal who had forfeited his life. But he did not act like an enemy. He managed somehow to start a small fire in a rock niche, while around us the dense snowstorm was still going on, even though it got a bit softer.

“You don’t like society, right?” he asked. I shook my head. His eyes were so strong and clear that it almost caused me discomfort. “I’ve been waiting for you.” He made this remark like a comment on the weather.

I did not believe he had said that. “What?”

“I knew you’d show up here.”

“Who are you?”

“I am the spirit of a free warrior who was betrayed. I am the guard of the Pine Ridge Reservation and the Badlands. Yes, you can call me Tashunka Witko.” He nodded at me.

“I am Brian. And you are watching me? Why?”

He was absolutely certain. “Because you’re trapped in the past. You are trapped in a scene in which you drove over a little girl.” I gasped. He even knew the name of the child. “And it’s time to let go and move on.”

“And why is that your business?”

“I am your spiritual guide. The Greeks called it psychopompos.”

“Why would you save a white man?”

He laughed. “Who is talking about saving here? Do you know where you find yourself here? Do you know your condition? In this dimension there are souls and not people. And every soul is an expression of the creator. When a soul needs help, we will help. That is our job, on earth as in the realms above.” It sounded as if I were dead. I did not know for sure. The accident he mentioned was indeed constantly in my mind.

The Accident

I was traveling through a small town, a little too fast, as usual, and looked after a pretty woman who ran along on the left side. I wanted to see her face, because her body seemed to call for love. But my awakening was bad. As I turned away from her I saw a girl running on the road in front of me. The child was so close that I could not stop the car. I braked as hard as I could. The brake pedal pushed back a bit in order to prevent a locking of the wheels. And the child, this beautiful curly black-haired child, stared at me like she was frozen without attempt to run back. I slid within a terribly slow elapsing time, but without having time for action. Then the terrible impact came. The car came to a stop, I jumped out and heard the mother screaming. That was the worst thing I had ever heard. She lifted the child. She was bleeding and lifeless. No, she was still breathing and staring blankly up to the sky. A man took her and laid her back on the road. We stood there, stunned, I devastated beyond measure, while the mother only cried, “Mary! Mary!” She held her hand and then the girl took her last breath. I could feel the departing soul. With it went something from me too. I was left like dead. The ambulance finally came and took the lifeless body into their care and drove away, together with the mother. The police took me and had an interview with me in their station. I had not much to say. I did not mention the woman on the street. After the accident she was gone. Also I tried to cover up my too-fast driving, but the Mexican-looking police officers did not believe me. “You went at least forty miles. We will investigate the rubber marks.” The alcohol sample showed that I was sober, so there was no clear offense. But my mind condemned me. When they released me, I took a taxi home because they had confiscated my not-too-heavy demolished car. They gave it to me a few days later, though. A court sentenced me to one year in prison. But before I was to start the bonding time, I went away. Actually, I just wanted to die. Now here I was in a snowstorm with Tashunka Witco.

The Escape

“It is time to leave, Brian,” he said after a while. “We are persecuted by our enemies. Only when we lure them into a trap, will we have a chance.”

“Enemies. The FBI?” I asked. He did not answer but jumped up and just ran ahead. I followed him. The curtain of snow clouds opened, and a nocturnal lunar landscape spread out before us. The area was unknown to me. First we crossed a plane, then a forest, and after that a lake.

We walked across the frozen and snow-covered lake. I was sweating and wanted a break, but Tashunka was relentless.

“Your world is full of enemies. And it is precisely here where I meet you, where else? That’s why we run today as if we would be the hunted. Let’s not waste any time!”

On the other side of the lake stood a lonely oak tree. It stood, black as a devil’s claw in the night. Tashunka and I went behind it to hide ourselves. He leaned against the tree and looked back to the other shore. Long time only my breath was heard until it calmed down.

“I cannot see them yet,” whispered Tashunka Witko, “but I know they are somewhere near. Let us go on.” And he stepped close to the tree and pushed with his outstretched arm and hand against it until his hand dipped into the bark. Slowly his body disappeared.

“Tashunka, what’s this? What’s going on?” I asked. He stuck his head out of the tree. His white teeth gleamed in the moonlight. “Do not worry. I’ll bring you to a safe place. There are two trees in the cosmos, the tree of light the one of the dark forces. And you never know where you end up. But our friends on the other side know. I go ahead and you follow me!” He disappeared and I was alone. The night wind blew through the branches of the old oak. I looked over to the forest, looming black in the moonlight and indeed I saw something like a movement. It was time to disappear. I stepped up to the tree and pushed with all my strength against the trunk. Nothing happened. Should I really be stranded here? I tried again with more force and again nothing happened. I broke out in sweat. I saw two figures rushing from the shore on the white lake in my direction. They had taken up our trail. I was trapped. They were so fast that my exhausted body could never escape them. I pressed gently against the trunk, because I remembered that Tashunka had touched it with three fingers. Now the bark gave really way. I looked around the trunk. Where were the chasers? They were really close. Sinewy fighters with long hair and swinging samurai swords. I stepped into the interior of the tree and was suddenly in another world. It was dry here, a desert of red and yellow dunes. And I was alone. Where had Tashunka lured me to? Then I saw the traces of my friend. They moved up a slope and disappeared among the dunes. I ran after them, for the two Asian fighters should be close after me soon. But as often as I looked back, there was nobody. They had probably not found the door in the tree yet. When I went up the hill, I saw Tashunka, who had camped in front of a ruin. I stepped fatigued close to him. He offered me a cushion to sit on. “What have you seen?”

“Two warriors ran up to me. They looked like Asians, grinning, with long hair and samurai swords.”

Tashunka nodded. “Oh, those guys. I almost expected them. After tea we are to keep running.” The water was boiling in a sooty kettle and Tashunka poured it on the tea. “It is a tea which glows from the inside.” We did not wait long, but poured the tea between the shells back and forth until it was cool enough to drink. In fact, this tea seemed odd. It shone in a strange way as if the kettle had been vaccinated with phosphor. But I did not care much about it. Everything was strange here. Tashunka would know what he was offering me. I drank hastily. Then he quenched the fire and we set off again. “We have to reach the dark castle before our followers,” said Tashunka. We walked a while in silence under the stars.

The Forum

Slowly I realized the walls of a city had emerged from the dim light of the night.

We walked up the wide road through the empty city until we beheld a forum on the right hand side. There was a protracted plaza in Roman style that was framed by a double row of columns. This place was filled with something that looked like a crowd. Tashunka went exactly there. This caused me great discomfort. There were dozens, maybe hundreds of marble statues. We entered this forest of silent figures standing in the moonlight. They were engaged in fierce battles with monsters. Others were entwined in passion, or in the posture of prayerful reverence to the gods. It was like a snapshot of an event a long time ago. In this ancient past there must have been another cosmos in the minds of men. This flow of time was frozen in stone, and seemed to wait for the return of life. Although Tashunka was thoroughly an Indian native, this world of Greek mythology did not seem to be quite alien to him. He had spent, already, more than a hundred years in the world of spirits, after all.

“What are we doing here?” I asked anxiously.

“We are raising this dead world unto life again,” he whispered, with a mischievous smile. “Do you see how they begin to move?” I shuddered. We stood still and listened. And indeed a faint whispering and sighing went through the statues that had stood for millennia. “We have to run,” said my guide, and ran away. I was running after him. The figures began to move. First lightly, as they thawed out from a long freeze, then easily and more alive. I ran as fast as I could and dodged some swords that whizzed at me through the air. Seconds later, I had managed to escape the forum.

Tashunka and I met. He was relaxed and cool, I was on short breath. We looked back. The figures calmed down and were soon as frozen as before. But where were our persecutors? Tashunka did suspect them seemingly, close behind us. “Let’s go further!” he called softly.

The Dark Castle

On and on we went up until we reached the ruins, which rose black from the desert sands into the moonlit night. “The dark throne should be somewhere here,” said Tashunka. We walked through the open entrance. The ground was filled with sand and covered with debris of the fallen vault. We walked between the chunks. This could have been a church or temple a long time ago. At the end of the elongated building we reached a large hexagonal room which had access to other spaces. I could see these big rooms well because all their ceilings had fallen down and were therefore not entirely hidden in the shade. But in the middle of this central space was a powerful spiral staircase going up. The ceiling above the room was still intact. A pale light from the top shone down on us. “Let’s go upstairs,” Tashunka whispered to me. We went slowly up the wide staircase, which screwed around a thick stone pillar. Everything here was black, carved out of dark granite.

When we got to the top, we found another hexagonal space. Before us was a powerful open gate. Behind stretched a long room, a kind of hall. Light shone palely through many large windows. At the end of the room was something conspicuous, something dark, like a throne. “Because we want to go.” Tashunka drew a long knife from a scabbard and went with soft steps on this throne. I followed him reluctantly. I did it all here, too strange and departed. But I could not. I did not know where my body was, actually. I felt trapped in a dream world, without a return ticket. But I had to have the feeling Tashunka followed at all costs if I ever wanted to go back. Although we tried to be quiet, our steps caused a slight shuffle in the silence of this strange night. We came to the throne, inching closer and I noticed palpitations that someone sat on it.

“The ruler of the dark tree,” whispered Tashunka.

A figure in black, sitting on a throne of dark granite, grunted and sat up in its seat. “So here you are! I have been waiting for you for ages.”

“Yes, we are here. We have but one question for you. Why do you still lay your dark blanket upon the world?” asked Tashunka. “My people want to be free again!”

The man seemed to be smiling. His face remained hidden under a dark hood. “I have nothing else to do. Without my influence it would be boring in the world, everyone would be in deep sleep. And as long as I can, I’m doing it, until all are woken up by the intensity of the pain in the world.”

Tashunka swung his long knife at the man’s head. But he did it more as an empty gesture. The man on the throne waved. “Never mind, I can only show the way, but not spare. You have look at your own darkness, Tashunka Witko, you saviour of the world. And one more thing—” He smiled at Tashunka, who reluctantly put his sword again into its sheath. “You’ve been here many times before. And whenever you were seeking to kill me, I was no longer there. But come gladly again, if you have questions. I wait for you here until you have solved the riddle of the world.” Tashunka grunted and turned to go to. “And you there, kid!” yelled the dark man to me. I shuddered. “Think you well, whom you follow. With me you have bread and shelter and love in abundance. Following this guy you will find only death. Like so many times before.” He laughed a short deep laugh that swung like a never-ending echo through the long hall as if trying to lure me away from Tashunka’s track. But I persevered and came back out of the hall and the castle. Once I left the dark ruins, Tashunka led me to a sandy hill on the left. There we lay flat on the ground and watched the castle. The moon did barely move further in the time we spent here. The two warriors came from the castle, running straight into the aero park or the forum. A short movement went through the white marble figures and the two Chinese started screaming for a short moment, than being chopped into pieces. They were leaked into the midst of the warrior’s swords.

The Leap into the Unknown

“We also have to go again into the center of the figures. There is a portal,” said Tashunka. I could not believe it. “Excuse me? Are you crazy?” I cried. But it did not help. He stood up and walked few steps, like a gazelle. I followed him like in a dream, inescapable. Than we ran down. We came to the center that still remained empty in moonlight and ran to the forum. We arrived at the forum with dread, where just the two Chinese had come to an end. Tashunka ran into the midst of the large number of marble statues that were relatively close together. They were all perfectly motionless, but they found no rest. They were trying to suck in all the life that came close to them, as if they could exchange one day being of stone in favor of the transitory life of flesh and blood. Their sentiments towards life were not friendly, I felt with horror. Probably because they themselves were dead and perceived life only from an external perspective, they tried to fathom its secrets by entering into it, tearing it apart and chopping it, to find life between the dead scraps, but missing its secret which had been its wholeness. They began to move again and swing their swords. They were not to walk away from their location, but their strong arms had a long reach. Tashunka ran on, and moved like a dancer or big cat at a high speed between them. Half a second was enough for him to an escape a fatal blow. I was too anxious and waited without doing anything, so I spent way too much time and the gruesome figures around me awakened more and more to life. They reminded me of battles fought a long time ago when we were together, losing our hope together one by one in slaughter. I could sense the burned dream of my lifetimes; all came down to ashes, blowing in the wind. These guys were still there, on place I had left behind in other ages. “Come now!” shouted Tashunka. He was standing now before the saving figure of the goddess, Mother Earth. I had a second for the decision: did I want to freeze in fear and be smashed in a few moments into pieces? Should they look in vain for the life that they had just destroyed, or should I take the chance that I had already lost? I did the latter and immediately I got into the same flow as Tashunka. Suddenly I was faster than the warriers of stone. Time and space seemed to have changed around me. It was like sliding down the tube of a water park. Only by this miracle could I survive a second. I reached the sitting Gaia and jumped into her lap. A moment later I was in another world, which was submerged in twilight. A world of wet scrub. We ran in a tangle of dark paths that ranged deeper into the night. I sensed strange beings who leered at us from the deeper part of the wilderness. I only saw their eyes that shimmered greenish. They were probably not angry, just curious. They looked puzzled, not been disturbed in ages. Who were these invaders?

We came to a rocky massif, which stood out from the wet scrub forest. Tashunka ran nimbly as a gazelle up the hill. I followed him, breathing heavily. “That’s all right, that’s just a dream,” I whispered to myself, but it did get not easier by doing that.

The Cave and the Ocean

From the top we saw a cold silent landscape. Only the night wind whispered barely through the silence. Tashunka’s long black hair blew around his face. We saw a light in the distance. “Are these friends?” I asked.

Tashunka shrugged. “I don’t know. I think it is a man with whom we can talk.”

“What are we looking for here?”

He looked at me and smiled. “We are looking for your soul. The parts you have lost.”

“In the accident?”

“All your life you have given away pieces of your soul, mostly unconsciously. Sometimes because you received things that you did not want to receive without repaying anything. Now you have almost lost everything. But the accident was your biggest loss.”

“And my soul shall be somewhere around here?”

He nodded. “Here, of course, does not mean anything in worlds that are beyond your world. But yes, everything is here and what we are looking for will fall into our hands, when it’s time.”

“But am I worthy to be healed?” I asked anxiously.

“What do you think?”

I shook my head. “No, I do not think so.”

“First you have to forgive yourself. Only then you can be healed.” I gulped and nodded to myself.

We walked for some time without saying a word. Only our footsteps made a sound. I heard the voices of women who whispered to me secrets. “You are here for nothing, you fool, not one of you has ever survived, dead ye, all dead. For ages. You were always dead. And you can’t go back to the living, because you gambled your life away being stupid. But come with us, then we play until you decay into ashes.” Tashunka shouted something to me, but I did not understand it. I was dazed and yet I stumbled further and further. Then we reached the cave. The fire was still burning, but no one was there. There were a few belongings, a leather bag, a jacket, a sleeping camp. We sat and waited. I fell asleep. The fire lit up in the background of my mind. When I had woken up again, there sat another man with Tashunka, an old native Indian with white hair. He looked at me grimly and shook his head. Tashunka looked also serious. “What are you doing here, boy? This is no place for the living. If there was a way back, I would show it to you. But there is none.”

“Tashunka led me here. I was lost in a snowstorm.”

The old Indian nodded to himself. “You have to accept what happened. Only the brave can. The others are cowards. For us, the whites of today are weaklings. They perform no hero deed any more. You distract yourself and indulge in superficial pleasure. They lost their strength in a daily rota to earn money. Now you have to leave everything behind.

“Already done,” I said. “I have nothing left. I had come here in 1989 from East Germany, and now all dreams are dreamed, my body is laid somewhere under a snowdrift in the Badlands and will thaw in the spring. And my spirit is still dreaming a while of you Indians until it dissolves.”

The two Dakota nodded. They accepted my insight. The old man looked at me with eyes that glowed from within. “You had occupied a fixed position in the universe. Our warriors did the same, otherwise they could not fight. But when we were in times of peace, we lost ourselves in space. That you must do too, if you want to win the life that doesn’t pass.”

“I do not know how. How should I give up my position?”

“Let go of everything and yourself as well!” I stood there and thought about how I should do that. But then I received an impact of the old man like a flash and I flew down the slope. I fell into a bottomless dream.

Soon I was no longer alone. Eerie creatures flew around me, first from a distance then getting closer and I was still falling. They looked at me with hatred. But they turned into colored shards of another world, falling down on me and destroying also this world. There appeared a network of paths that led through this dark universe. I ended up on one of them, leading me to a graveyard landscape. It was quiet. The moon was still pale in height and fog caressed the gravestones. I heard nothing but the fine rain that fell from the fog on the stones. The steam went by and I walked between the stones. Would someone suddenly pull me into his grave? I wondered. This world was waiting to devour me. But nothing stirred up. Where were all the dead? Rested them actually underneath the stones? Or did they not exist any more, because death had ended their existence? I entered the ruin of an old church, in which the light of the night shone from the sides and top. On the altar was still a crucifix standing. It was not a dead Christ, but as in the Romanesque period a living savior who embraced the world. This gesture was seemingly irrelevant here, because no one was alive any more, who could be embraced. All life was sunk and turned to dust. Jesus embraced nothingness. I looked at the graves. An old question haunted me again. Why even existed anything when nothingness was the final answer to all existence? I heard someone breathing behind me. I was startled and spun around. There was suddenly a throne where the altar had stood, and on it sat the Dark Lord. “Well, you’ve already allied with nothing?” he asked. I just sighed. For some long minutes we both were silent and listened to the fine rain falling down onto the stones. Then he got up and walked slowly out until he stopped in front of the church. I followed him. “What has life served when this is the ending?” he asked. “What do you think?”

“Life is nothing that goes beyond itself. It exists for a while and passes away. There is no other answer.”

“So you don’t believe in any creator?” His voice was only moderately interested. He looked tired. Was he after my spirit? Was I just gambled away my soul? I did not know.“Nothing comes from nothing, right? But if all goes nowhere, there was nothing and it came out of nowhere.”

“Are you the nothing?” The dark man smiled at me, amused. “You are very close to it, my dear. We are talking about illusions and mirrors. How do you thing the world was made in the spirit of those who want to see it?” We looked out to the cemetery.

“That’s all this has never been,” I said.

He did not agree. “No, if you’re out, it has never been. But when you’re inside, there is nothing else. God has nothing to do with this, there you can rest assured.”

“Am I still in here?”

“Yes, you’re still in the midst.” I looked at him and he nodded at me. I was not sure if he wanted something from me or just passing the time, because much pastime was probably not available here. I nodded back and walked away. I wandered on roads over vast plains. The moon seemed to move never away. Then a wind blew the night away and I stood on a sunlit meadow.

There was the same girl I had killed. Her hair blew in the wind over the vast grasslands. It was probably the summer prairie. “You have been looking for this woman,” said the girl, pointing to a figure next to us who was walking over the grass. It was the woman who had distracted me. “No, she didn’t distract you,” said the little girl, as if she had read my mind. “You were not paying attention. You should have been more careful. Now I can’t be with my family. I fly alone through worlds that mean nothing to me. The only place where I want to be, home, I can’t.”

“I’m sorry! “I cried and fell to her knees. She was standing next to me. “Do not cry. Be strong! You have to finish your things now. I’ll see all my family again, like you. But now I’m sad. Be you strong! Only then can you earn my respect.” She disappeared and then there was a blue ocean, which I had seen in the light of the distance.

I jumped into its depths and swam with dolphins made of light. I experienced the silence and the strange singing of the sea’s essence. The journey seemed almost to end up well, but Tashunka caught me and pulled me back up to his grim world of death. “No no no! Not yet plunge into the ocean of bliss. We have still work to do!” he screamed, laughing. I wanted to return, but the water disappeared in the burning sun, leaving only dying fishes and I was back on dry land. The country had become a desert.

The Lion and the Monkey

“We go a little further through the Moon sphere, to where everything is blurred. Nothing can be seen clearly. Ghosts of the past will resurface. You have to have a look at the content of your mind. What do you invite? What do you imagine?” asked Tashunka. I did not answer. I never wanted to speak to him again. We walked down the narrow path. Left and right were dark bushes in the blue light. Tashunka went ahead. Then we reached the sphere of power, set in a small valley where there was a round powerful lion temple. The stone lion stood in the middle and looked to the east. He was powerful gray-blue.

“What are we doing here?” I asked. Tashunka looked intently at the lion. “It can be dangerous. Let us move on,” I whispered.

“Demons everywhere hide here. We must liberate them from themselves. When we move on, then the land must be pure behind us.” That was not the answer I wanted to hear. But I could not do anything. I felt fear, but also trust, because I was sure that Crazy Horse would protect me in any case. So we waited a while until the lion began to rumble.

“What are you doing here?” a voice growled.

“We want to see you,” said Tashunka.

“I want to see none. You run away, as long as you have time.”

“We will only go after you have shown up here,” said Tashunka. The voice broke in a roar, as if the lion would jump on us, but he was only made of stone. On closer listening the roar sounded no longer like that of a lion. It was more like the cry of a thousand monkeys. And that only seemed to be a good news. A little ugly monkey stepped out from behind the lion.

“That’s you, then!” said Tashunka, “A little monkey!”

The monkey grinned. Evil shone unhidden in his eyes. “You should not have come,” he hissed and he doubled himself into two. Out of the two came four then eight, so it went on until its number was uncountable.

“Let’s get out!” hissed Tashunka. But it was already too late. The thousand monkeys surrounded us and began to bite us. It was hell. Each bite took away a small piece of meat out of our bodies. We screamed and ran, but there was no escape. The pain only subsided after a no meat was left. The monkeys disappeared with victory-rich cry.

The two Dead

And there we were, two skeletons. Dead and yet alive. We marched silently through the desert. “We lost everything,” I whined. “Our lives and our health. I can never eat or drink, or embrace a woman again. The only run when they see me. Everything that makes life beautiful is over now.” Tashunka made a scoffing noise when I was not wrong. We were still breathing, although we had no lungs with which to do it. We could still move things around with our thoughts. Even the air.

“But you’re still alive, even though your flesh is gone. We must continue to go out into the darkness to find the source of all evil. We have no choice,” he said. I was desperate. I had wasted my life so far. And the desert did not have to offer anything exciting. Our footsteps crunched softly in the desert sand. But even after we had walked for days, we got nowhere. “It’s hopeless,,” I said. “You brought me into this hopeless situation. We are dead but trapped in this hell. Why did not you let me die in the snowstorm? For me it was good.”

Tashunka shook his head. “You were already dead. Don’t think you lost something. You were already nothing. From here you can only escape when you have a wish, a wish for something true. Are you ready for the next step?” I did not know what to say. So far, all things have become worse and worse with every change, but after another night of senseless marching I was ready. What should have to happen, could only be better than this. Even nothingness was better.

“Okay, I’m ready,” I said.

Tashunka stopped and raised his bone hands. “Breath of the earth, who has left us, rush forth from the east. Crumble everything here to dust, that’s no dust yet!” He dropped his empty hands for a long moment and stood motionless. We waited, two skeletons in the morning sun. From a distance, a rumbling arose, first subtly, then increasingly louder until it had become a deafening roar.

At last Peace

Then we were hit by a sandstorm like a wall. We were hurled away and flew through the air. The wind gnawed at our bones in an instant, the last things that remained of us. Finally, we had dissolved and were flying north with the clouds of sand and dust. It was a strange feeling, flying through the air like that and spreading further and further into the vastness of the sky. We flew and flew until we became part of a snowstorm. I looked down on a snow-covered landscape and recognized Wounded Knee, which I had visited only recently. I had lost my body, but I came back as a snowflake. We landed on the barren hills of the Badlands and were soon enveloped by a blanket of snow. “Hey Tashunka, where are you?” I wailed. For a while, everything was silent. “Let go!” he shouted. “Forget who you were, let go of everything! You’re not a human anymore, forget it!” I didn’t think that was particularly kind, even though it was clear that I was nothing more than a snowflake. The wind blew me further. Soon I was back over the white, barren plains of Pine Ridge. Samantha was standing in front of her grandfather’s house, despite the snowstorm. She had her new medicine pipe in her hand. I landed on her cheek. I resisted her for only a second before melting away through my complete surrender. I immediately noticed that she was crying and asked Tashunka why. “She’s remembering a friend she misses. She’s crying, but also for all the other people who are lost. What I accomplished, she will also accomplish; what I was asked to do, she will also be asked to do.” I woke up and it was cold and dark and wet. I didn’t know where I was. Slowly, however, I realized that I was still alive. I could feel my whole body. I moved my fingers and toes and wondered if I would be able to get out of here. There could be a lot of snow above me. So I started pulling snow down from the ceiling of my little cave and stomping on it to create some breathing room. I didn’t have to do that for long before the blinding white daylight suddenly shone in my eyes. I had to wait a few minutes to be able to see at all. I crawled out of my hole and let my eyes wander around. The sky was blue, the land was white and gray. It was quiet, only the traffic of the interstate hummed in the distance. I tried to get my bearings and slowly walked back to the road. My clothes were wet and the air was cold. So I had to hurry so I wouldn’t get sick again. The road had already been cleared of snow. My car was still in the same spot. The police hadn’t discovered it yet. It was strange and difficult to move my tired and heavy body again after my long journey into the spirit world. I shoveled the snow off my car and drove back to the hotel. I knew what I had to do now. My mind was completely clear for the first time in many years. I remembered a moment of that clarity from when I was a boy. My parents, my sister, and I were hiking in the high mountains, surrounded by fresh air, sunshine, and a few clouds. We sat on a grassy slope and ate the lunch my parents had carried up for us. It was the best food ever, fresh bread with canned sausage and black tea. My little seven-year-old sister was like an angel at that time, with curly blonde hair and a happy disposition. Unfortunately, I couldn’t remember playing with her. Even back then, I preferred to daydream or read books rather than pay attention to her. I wasn’t aware of how precious and limited the time was. I had spent time with my sister. It wasn’t until she was a teenager that we spent some good days together. We both read the German classics and books from world literature, like so many of our friends. But there weren’t many good books in East Germany. So people shared books to read as much as possible. It helped us a lot that we were both in a Lutheran youth group and could therefore discuss opinions that went against the government propaganda. My sister stayed in Germany while I went to the States. We didn’t have much contact for several years until she suddenly became very ill. I felt completely helpless in that situation. We exchanged emails and had short phone calls. When she died one day in the presence of our mother, I was far away from her. Although I still felt her presence afterward, then she was gone. That was two years ago. But now all the unspeakable sadness was gone, and I only remembered the good moments in the mountains.

In moments like those, I could relax and open my heart. I remembered and let the love flow back into my heart. Maybe that was healing.

I stood in the hotel lobby, lost in memories. Red Hawk spotted me and smiled at me. I was happy to see her. “What happened to you?” she wanted to know. “I spent the night outside in the Badlands,” I replied. “Do you have any dry clothes?” I asked her. She shook her head. “No, but I can dry them for you. You can lie down in an empty room and I’ll do it for you, okay?” “Yes, that would be nice. Did the police ask about me?” She nodded. “Yes, they did.” “You can tell them I’m here. When my clothes are dry, okay?” “Okay, I’ll do it,” she replied sadly. She took me to a room and spread an old blanket over one of the prepared beds and gave me another one to cover myself with. I finally had my bed. I was dead tired. At least I could finally sleep for a couple of hours until she brought me my dry clothes. “You can call them yourself.” She sat down on my bed and gave me the hotel phone. I called the nearest sheriff in Rapid City and reported my case to him. He was interested in seeing me and promised to send a patrol in an hour or two. “What did you do?” Red Hawk asked. I told her the story of the accident and also about Samantha. Red Hawk was touched. “And now you want to turn yourself in?” she asked doubtfully. I smiled and nodded. “Yes, because of Crazy Horse. I spent the whole night outside with him.” Her eyes began to light up. “Tell me more about it!” I gave her a short version of the recent adventures while I was still lying naked under the rough horse blanket. She didn’t quite know what to say. “Wow, Frank.” But I was tired. “Right now I need to get more sleep,” I said. After she left, I got dressed and lay back down in bed. The police arrived with a loud knock. There were two officers, one blonde and one Black. Both were tall and heavy, massive men. They took me to the nearest police station without much ceremony. During the brief interrogation, I kept quiet about the whole thing with Samantha and only talked about my tour of the sacred sites of the Dakota. The Black police officer had no further questions and put me in a cell. I spent two hours there, not knowing my fate. But for the first time since the accident, I was at peace with it. Finally, the big blonde police officer appeared and took me to his office. My heart pounded. He looked at me in surprise. “Your case is being reopened. Until then, you can remain free. It seems that someone has vouched for you. The child’s mother also said that she didn’t want to see you in prison.” I was speechless and began to sob, overwhelmed by compassion and humility. “You’re a lucky man, sir!” said the officer. “Perhaps now, but do you really want to say that after such an accident?” I replied. He looked at me seriously. “No, you’ve experienced every driver’s worst nightmare. But whether something like this happens to us is only in God’s hands. I’ll take you back to the hotel, sir.” “Thank you, sir!” After returning, I sat at the bar and told Red Hawk the news. She was speechless. “My God, maybe you won’t have to go to prison, Frank! Do you want to stay at the hotel?” she asked. “Yes, I’d like to. I have two weeks until the trial. And you’re the only friend I have out here.” She smiled, touched, and gave me a long look. “If you want, you can stay at my house too. Maybe it will work out,” she said. “But you have to wait for me until I’m finished here, at nine.” I was surprised. She was beautiful, but alone and lost in this land. I felt something between us, perhaps a brief attraction, but hopefully more. “Yes, I’d love to come to you,” I said. She nodded and lowered her gaze.

Suddenly, I saw an exciting, though not easy, future unfolding before me. A future in this desolate landscape, so unlike the Baraboo area, full of hills and forests. Here it was empty and dry, but the people had touched me in a way I hadn’t experienced since my youth, when I immersed myself in the world of the Native Americans. I felt warmth in my heart. It was time to move west. A future at the side of Red Hawk, in the orbit of Crazy Horse and near Samantha and the others, among people and spirits of great power. “See you then,” she said and went back to her work. My heart leaped with joy.

I drove back to the snow-covered badlands, where my friends, the crows, sat watching me. I thought of Samantha. Maybe I could find out how she was doing through a relief organization. I tried once again to reach Tashunka Witko with my thoughts, but only the crows responded, as if to say, “Have patience, friend, the spirit world can wait.”

Dear Reader. If you are looking for a heart-opening coaching, you can find it here with “Inner-Bonding”. Please reach out to me if you would like to know what your inner child and your higher self really want for you in your life. Peterbernhard.wordpress.com, stellaazul@gmail.com