The Curse

May 5, 2009
It's been awhile since I've written an actual story here. My usual warning applies: This story is VERY extreme. Those with weak stomachs or whom are easily offended should avoid. Previous stories I've written include The Proposition, My Cruel Fate, The Miller House and Abigail's Profile.

I hope you enjoy The Curse as it unfolds in the coming weeks! Thanks for reading.

Edit: This story is being published at a relatively rough stage. Usually I make several iterations before posting. This story’s just getting one because of time constraints. Maybe eventually I’ll have time to polish it up a bit... for now, it's posted as more of an outline to an eventual story than an actual finished one.

The Accident

In July 1998, when driving home from a small party, I hit and killed a man with my car.

I was doing about 50 mph and didn’t get a chance to even tap on the break before impact. His body smashed into my car with brutal force. I still still remember the sound--like a bomb went off. I’d been drinking. After impact, my mind just went blank, and I just... reacted. Before I knew it, my foot was on the gas, and I was speeding away as fast as I could. I didn’t make a conscious decision to run. I was just so scared. Fight of flight took over and I fled. My young buzzed brain wasn’t able to think through the potential consequence of leaving, or the crushing guilt I would feel after.

Every day since I’ve wished to God that I could somehow take back my actions that night.

The man I killed was an Indian--a Navajo named “Nastas”. They had a picture of him there, smiling with a couple other dark skinned men. He was only 45 years old, and apparently he wasn’t alone when it happened. He was walking home with his wife and daughter. I hadn’t see anyone else there, but it was very dark. By the time my vehicle came to a full stop I must have been at least 500 feet from where it happened, so I guess I just didn't see them. The really strange thing though... the part that’s puzzled me more than anything else... was that they gave the cops an incorrect description of my vehicle. It wasn’t just a little off either. It was completely incorrect. Police asked that the community keep an eye out for a grey minivan with obvious damage to the front. I was driving my mom’s blue oldsmobile.

Nastas’s face has haunted my thoughts ever since that fateful night. I made a promise to myself that I’d never forget his name and kept the newspaper picture of him in my wallet, so I wouldn’t forget his face. The least I could do is remember the man. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to find out much about him other than his name. Navajo generally like to keep to themselves. I would have liked to discover where he was buried at least... maybe I’d say some words... perhaps to try to give myself some degree of closure to this open wound.

In college, to distract myself from guilt, I engrossed myself in studies. I wasn’t a very good student in high school, but that changed in college. My parent’s were thrilled at my sudden interest in my studies. I ended up graduating with summa cum laude distinction and was offered a full-time teaching contract at the college, which I gladly accepted. I thought that Nastas was finally behind me.

Until Anna came into my life.

Next part: Anna
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May 5, 2009

In the summer I teach accelerated 7 week courses aimed at adult students. Anna was one of my students during the summer of 2008. On the first day of class, I always ask everyone to briefly introduce themselves. When it came to Anna’s turn, she stood up and told the class that she was Navajo. Oddly, she was the first Indian I’d ever taught despite the college being close to a large reservation. She spoke in a gentle tone and seemed like a very sweet likable girl. She was only 24 -- younger than most of her classmates; had traditional, long straight black hair; an exotic complexion; and she was strikingly pretty. Her real Navajo name was “Anaba” but she told everyone to call her “Anna”.

Anna turned out to be a very good albeit shy student. One of the best I’ve ever had, actually. It caught me completely off guard when she approached me on the last day of class.

“Professor, I just wanted to say ‘thank you.’ I really enjoyed your course.” She said, smiling radiantly at me.

I smiled back at her and thanked her for the compliment. She seemed very genuine and was very charming.

She went on to say: “There’s a special ceremony in my village on Saturday night -- one of the most spectacular and rare Navajo rituals.”

She paused and looked down at the floor. “I was wondering... professor, would you like to come with me as my guest?”

I was completely taken aback by her invitation. Memories of Nastas came flooding back as I considered actually visiting the reservation. Sensing my hesitation, she told me that it would be a great honor to her if I came; and that she’d already spoken to her family and they are all excited to meet me. She promised I’d find the experience very interesting at the very least, and that few non-navajo have seen it.

She lit up with excitement when I told her I’d be honored to come.

In all honesty, especially after her invitation and apparent interest in me, I couldn’t help my mind from drifting into non-platonic territory with Anna. As a child, I'd had a major crush on the Disney movie character “Pocahontas”. Anna looked very much like a real-life version of her--with her alluring brown eyes, beautiful face and pearly white teeth. She dressed rather modestly relative to the other girls, but I could tell she had an amazing body.

I did wonder whether attending this ceremony would be disrespectful to Nastas. Or, perhaps Anna was luring me into some sort of a trap to avenge the man. But my fantasies about Anna wouldn’t let me dwell on those ridiculous ideas. After all, he’s been gone ten years now.

Ever since her unexpected invitation, I couldn’t get Anna out of my head. I was very much infatuated with her.

If only I had known at the time the horror Anna had waiting for me at the "ceremony".

Next Part: The Ceremony
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May 5, 2009
The Ceremony

We met back at the college on Saturday. Anna was already waiting for me in the parking lot when I arrived. As usual, she had a big smile on her face when she hopped into my car.

“I’m so happy you made it, professor!” She sounded almost giddy. I told her again that it was an honor to be invited.

As we drove, Anna navigated. At the gated entrance to the reservation we were stopped by a man who motioned for me to roll down my window. When he saw Anna, the nodded and waved us through.

“Listen...” Anna said. “... I should warn you that there will be some... um... nudity in this celebration.” She blushed. “I hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable. In our culture being naked is a very normal thing... but sometimes it can be shocking for outsiders.”

I thanked her for the heads up and said that it was fine as long as I didn’t have to undress. She laughed at that and assured me that my clothes would stay on.

About a mile into the reservation, there was a lot where Anna told me to park. Next to the lot was a small gathering of Indians. Everyone was dressed normally. The small crowd stopped talking and watched us as we approached. This was not at all like what I expected it would be like. I expected many more people, Indian garb, music, etc.

An old woman walked over to us and greeted me. “I am Anaba’s grandmother, Migisi.” She said. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

The old woman spoke slow with a heavy accent, but her English was perfect.

“Thank you.” I said. “It’s an honor to be invited here. Anna tells me that the celebration you are doing tonight is very special.”

Migisi’s eyes sparkled. “Yes. Anaba and I have been looking forward to this for many years.” She said.

I was getting immensely curious and excited too.

“Come, join us. Have some food while you wait!”

There was an open tent set up with food, drinks, tables and chairs inside. Anna and I sat next to each other, and she described each of the different traditional Navajo foods were.

Just outside of the tent, where we ate, a couple indian kids were playing with a ball, and a couple men were preparing a fire inside a traditional cowhide tent. “That’s where the ceremony will happen.” Said Anna excitedly, pointing at the tent. It looked like something straight out of an old western movie.

Migisi sat down across from us, quietly knitting a doll. There was a basket of what looked like cotton that she was using to stuff it with. Perhaps it would be a toy for one of those kids, I thought. At one point she put the doll down and approached Anna and I with a pair of scissors.

“Tse-gah” She said, to her daughter.

“Oh... yeah. I’m so sorry, I forgot to warn you about this part, professor.” The old woman stood there shaking her head at her daughter’s forgetfulness. "Grandma is asking for just a tiny bit of your hair, okay? She can take just a tiny bit from the back. It won’t be noticeable, I promise.”

Anna could tell this request struck me strange, so she explained further. “As a guest among our tribe during this special ceremony, it’s customary to share part of yourself with us.” She rolled her eyes. “I know it’s strange; we have many strange rituals like this. Do you mind?”

I told her I didn’t and bent my head downwards, so that the Migisi could take some. To my surprise, she took more than I was expecting. When I looked back up at her, she was holding a generous clump of my hair. Surely it would be quite noticeable.

I pretended not to care as the old woman returned to her chair and continued working on her doll.

An intimidating looking man dressed in black fur and a buffalo skull helmet approached our tent. He was the first I'd seen wearing anything different than normal clothes. I couldn’t see his face because it was covered in the mask. He and Migisi talked for a few minutes in Navajo. His skin was a darker tone than anyone else's I’d seen in the reservation, and his arms were covered in marks. They weren’t tattoos--these markings were raised like they had been burned or gouged in with a knife; I wasn’t able to get a close enough look to make them out, but they were clearly deliberate and looked like symbols of some sort. Anna, sensing my curiosity, whispered to me that the man was a “special type of medicine man”, and to not try to talk to him because he doesn’t speak any English. The strange man took the doll from the woman... and my hair... and disappeared into the tent. While we continued to munch on some food, I could hear him chanting. His voice was deep... really deep... maybe it was the acoustics of the tent, but his chanting sounded really creepy to me--almost unearthly.

As we sat there listening to the bizarre chanting, Anna asked if I believed in Magic. From my expression, she could tell that I didn’t, but also didn’t want to be rude by saying so. “I didn’t used to either.” She said. “But I think that after tonight... you will believe.” She said smiling widely.

Well, if this guy wasn’t real, he sure does do one hell of a good act. I’ll give him that much. But what the fuck was he doing in there with my hair? In retrospect, I should have been more disturbed about that than I was. I guess I wanted to make a good impression on Anna -- I didn’t want Anna to think I was scared.

When the "medicine man" exited the tent (about 10 minutes later), he looked back at me. I waved to him, but he did not acknowledge the gesture at all. Instead he just continued to stare for several moments before turning and walking away.

This was all getting very weird.

The old woman asked Anna if she “felt ready.” Anna shook her head. “Soon.”

She turned to me and explained that she’d be conducting part of the ceremony, but that she wanted to wait a bit for her food to settle before she began. So we sat there watching the sun set, and the smoke billow from the top of the tent. It was quite a beautiful scene.

I tried, on several occasions, to ask Anna more about what exactly this celebration was for. Her answers were always vague. The best I could make out was that it was to honor a “very important” man in their tribe. She said that it was special because this particular type of ritual is “very old” and is only authorized for “extremely rare circumstances.”

Soon the clear sky was filled with stars. Anna looked up at them and smiled. “Okay” she said. “Now is a good time.” Migisi got up and made her way to the tent. Anna followed close behind.

“Just a few moments. I’ll call you in when we’re ready for you, okay?” Anna said.

I nodded and watched her duck into the leather tent. It appeared that the "celebration" would only consist of her and her grandma... Maybe more would join in after, I thought.

I could hear them talking in their native tongue to each other. First it sounded conversational, but after a minute or so, it sounded more like chanting. They weren’t in there long before she stuck her head out of the tent, smiled at me, and called me in.

"Okay, professor. We're ready for you."

I could feel the heat from the fire as I approached the tent. When I pulled door open, it took several moments for my eyes to adjust to be brightness of the flames... and what I saw inside caught me off completely off guard.

Anna was naked. Completely naked. She was squatting there next to the fire motioning for me to come inside. “It’s okay, professor” She said smiling at me. “Please come inside, I'm ready for you.”

Who am I to argue with a naked Indian goddess beckoning me into a tent.

I carefully ducked inside and let the door fold shut behind me. It was almost unbearably hot in there. Migisi sat on the other side of the fire with a head mask that was actually very frightening. Its face was contorted into an angry shape, and large teeth protruded from its gaping mouth. She was rocking back and forth and humming quietly to herself. She appeared to be in a deep state of prayer or meditation. In front of her was a small hole dug into the dirt. Inside was the doll she'd been working on earlier.

"I hope this doesn't make you feel uncomfortable, professor.” Anna said gesturing toward her naked breasts and smiling teasingly. “I did warn you that there'd be nudity.”

Her shapely body glowed in the yellow light of the flame. She was even more stunning than I had fantasized.

"You don't mind... do you?"

I shook my head, and she giggled at my sheepish smile. This was so fucking awesome.

"Now, we'll begin, okay?" Anna asked smiling at me. It struck me how perfectly comfortable she seemed with no clothes on.

Migisi handed Anna a long wooden pipe. It looked very old. She inspected the contents of the bowl before handing it to me. “Please. Smoke. Don’t worry, it’s only tobacco.”

I nodded, hypnotized by her beauty. As she handed me the pipe, her soft black hair brushed against my hand, sending chills up my spine. The bowl of the pipe glowed red with burning tobacco. I put the mouthpiece in my mouth and took a small puff.

“No no no.” She said shaking her head with a goofy smile. “Like this.” She didn’t seem to mind at all that it was just in my mouth. She put it to her lips and inhaled deeply, held it in her lungs for several seconds, and then finally exhaled a long stream of white smoke. “See? Breath it in deep. Keep it in as long as you can.” She handed it to me again. I could feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead.

After watching her take a large drag, I felt a bit more comfortable doing so myself. The hot tobacco smoke went down remarkably smooth. “Good." She said smiling widely. Now, hold it deep inside... don’t let go until I tell you, okay?” Anna leaned in close. She put her hands on the sides of my head, directing me to look up at her. Right in front of my face, her perfect breasts sparkled with beads of sweat in the heat of the tent. “Now... Breath." She said in a lustful tone. "Breath into me.

I exhaled. As I did, she sucked my smoke into her lungs through her nose; I watched in awe the thick white smoke streamed from me into the naked Indian beauty standing over me.

Yeah, so far, I was liking this “celebration” very much. I put my arms on my lap to hide the obvious excitement I was feeling.

She stood up and slowly walked over to the Migisi, who handed her the doll. She cradled it carefully her fingers, and slowly exhaled our shared smoke onto it.

The old woman, who was still wearing that scary mask, put her hand over the doll and said something that sounded like a prayer in her native tongue. Then stood up, waved me goodbye, and left the tent.

From outside I could hear her... she was laughing. Well, that's sort of odd. At the time I figured she was probably just going a bit senile. And she seemed to be completely fine leaving a man she just met alone in a tent with her daughter... who happened to be naked and absolutely gorgeous.

Then, things began to get really fucking weird...

To my disappointment, Anna’s attention was now completely directed at the small doll in her hand. She glared strangely at it, as if waiting for it to look back; and her expression was different--she looked angry, really fucking angry! She curled her lips in disgust and spit on it hatefully.

I wanted to ask what was going on, but perhaps this was part of some act. I didn’t want to interrupt.

She then placed it on the ground--on top of a plastic bag--and returned her gaze to me as she slowly squat down over the doll. She did it in a manner that seemed... perverse... and not really in a good way. She put her hands on her bum and spread her butt cheeks apart so that the doll was sort of... wedged... up there. As she maintained that position, she looked smug, as if she were savoring some sort of inside joke.

Modesty was not in the equation anymore as she squat there in front of me with her legs spread apart. I could see everything. EVERYTHING. Her body language and expression was very different than it was a few moments ago. She was no longer making any effort to be sexy... It looked more like she was hunching over to take a dump. I finally had to ask her if everything was okay, and she shushed me... so I just sat there trying my best to stay composed and not look as awkward as I felt.

Eventually her face strained. It took me a moment to register what was actually happening. HOLY FUCK... she really was taking a dump; right there in the tent in front of me; right on top of the doll? She didn’t respond to my look of disgust as she proceeded to defecate. It wasn’t a normal shit coming out of her either. It wasn’t quite diarrhea, but it was very loose. The tent instantly filled with its obnoxious sounds and stench as it snaked from her ass and piled up on top of the doll beneath her.

At this point it was just getting too weird. The tent reeked. I'd never felt more uncomfortable in my life and had absolutely no interest in where this was going anymore. As you can imagine, any semblance of a boner was gone the second that stench hit my nose. I felt deeply disturbed and was even getting nauseous. I'm not sure why I didn't just get up and leave... I guess I was in shock.

Anna seemed to be amused--even pleased--by my sickened appearance. She widened her legs to give me a better view, as she continued to discharge the last of her strangely dark and odorous shit in vulgar wet bursts. When she was finally done, she reached down and picked up the plastic bag by its edges--making sure it contained the entire mess--and carefully tied it shut around the doll. It was transparent, so the filth inside was clearly visible.

She dangled it there in the air in front of me and raised her eyebrows as if she were offering it as some sort of twisted souvenir. I gagged. She then proceeded to squeeze the bag with her fingers! She seemed to be trying to squish her shit into the doll, as if it weren’t defiled enough. Her jaw clenched as she squeezed over and over, inspecting from time to time to make sure every inch the doll was completely caked in her rotten filth.

This was the most fucked up thing I'd ever seen in my life.

Anna dropped the doll onto the ground and began stepping on it--using her entire weight to mash her shit even further into the doll with her toes and the heels of her feet. When it was impossible to sully the doll worse than she already had, she kicked it into the hole, buried it, and stomped the loose dirt with her feet until the ground was even.

Finally, she broke the awkward silence.

“It’s done.”

Coming Next: The Curse
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May 5, 2009
Thanks door_step. Smother sitter, as I mentioned in the first post, I'm posting this as a rough draft of an eventual polished story. I'd love some feedback, especially if my depiction of navajo is way off -- I've done literally no research and have never visited nor know anything about Indian reservations... Just trying to churn out a draft of the story as fast as possible.

- Way
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May 5, 2009
The Curse

The heat and stench of the tent was making me light headed, my shirt, sopped with sweat. I wanted out, but curiosity held me back. It was becoming clear to me that this “celebration” was about something very different than what I went into it believing it would be. The weird chanting, the doll, that creepy dude in with the skull helmet and the sickening performance I had just witnessed, all these things were either an elaborate sick prank, or was actually supposed to be some sort of black magic. I asked her what she believed was accomplished by all this.

Anna grinned at me and looked down at the dirt where the filthy doll was buried.

“Vengeance.” Her jaw clenched. “For my father.”

My heart must have stopped beating. No... it couldn’t be... That happened so fucking long ago. How could she possibly have found me?

“N... N... Nastas?” I asked meekly, dreading her response.

Anna nodded her head. “You killed him. Ten years ago, today.”

Her words hit me like a fist to the stomach. The nauseous feeling returned to my gut in full force as I stared at her in disbelief. Anna was Nastas’s daughter. Suddenly I realized how much trouble I was in. I was out here in the middle of an Indian reservation at night, in this creepy tent and surrounded by a bunch of angry vengeful Indians, who happened to also be fucking nuts. My eyes widened in terror.

“He died in my arms... more than two hours after you sped away in your car.” Her face tightened as she tried to hold back her emotions. “If you hadn’t left us there, we could have taken him to a hospital... but there was nothing we could do for him on the side of the road. I just held him and watched him die. We waited on that road for over 4 hours before someone finally stopped to help. By then it was too late. My Dad was dead.”

I tried to speak, to apologize, to tell her how the guilt had eaten me up inside for a decade, but she wouldn’t have any of it.

“No. You don’t get to apologize for this.”

She took a moment to compose herself.

“You probably thought you’d gotten away with it. Did actually think that? Did you think we were blind? Or just stupid? You clearly think we’re so insignificant that you can just kill one of us and drive away as if it were no big deal at all.”

I tried to answer her--to tell her I was just a kid; that I was afraid; that I was the stupid one; and how much I regretted my actions; but Anna was in no mood to listen to me say anything.

“We saw your plates.” She lifted her chin. “We could have you in jail right now if we wanted you there. But jail is far too good for you.”

Anna gave me that same smug smile she had before.

“You want to know what we accomplished tonight? You’ve been cursed. You can go home now. But your soul stays here.”

She pointed to the ground.

“It’s mine now, professor.” In the light of the fire, Anna smiled at me wildly like a mad woman. She seemed completely confident that whatever she did had worked... and that my soul was somehow in the ground with that filthy doll?

I had heard enough. Anna was clearly fucking nuts, and was seriously starting to freak me out. I felt like if I didn’t get out of there, I’d either throw up or pass out... or both. When I emerged from the tent, the cool night air felt wonderful. I took several long refreshing breaths of clean cold air. My god that stench was fucking horrible!

Migisi was there.

Oh God. I realized she was Nasas’s mother and began to apologize to her. But like Anna, she wasn’t interested in hearing it. She just shook her head at me and smiled.

“No. You’re not sorry yet.” Migisi said. “But you will be.”

There were more Indians around the tent now. Maybe 20 or 30 in total. They were whispering to each other and watching me intently. They seemed nervous. I just wanted to get to my car. As I walked, people quickly cleared a wide path... like I had some sort of contagious disease that they didn’t want to catch.

As you can imagine, I was far beyond the point of being scared. I was hyperventilating. I just wanted to get the fuck out of there as quickly as I possibly could. As I sped away, I could hear the old woman’s laughter again behind me. Fucking crazy Indians!

I felt dizzy and had a splitting headache. All I wanted to do was go home and try to get my mind of Anna and her grandma. A few beers, some TV, and a good night sleep was my agenda for the evening.

Anna and her Grandma wanted to give me a good scare. And they fucking succeeded at that. What I was worried most about was why she just let me go. What was her plan for me now? Was she going to blackmail me or something?

The familiarity of my own home offered me at least some comfort. I locked and padlocked the front-door, grabbed a few IPAs out of the fridge, flicked on the TV in my bedroom, and sank into my king size pillow top mattress. As I lay there, sipping my cold beer, I watched reruns of Seinfeld and tried hard not to think about my fucked up night.

I was happy to be done with my crazy night. Soon I’d be asleep... but my night had only just begun.

Coming Next: Night Terrors - Part I
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When, first I have to say, is that I like the way the story is turning out so far, but I have some problems reading some parts of the story involving rituals and such, because they are innaccurate. I live in New Mexico for some 10 years, and there's a pretty big reservation here.
First off, I like to say, that you have many good things such as names, and characters descriptions are good, but their are some minor issues, that bother me. I thought about saying nothing, and just like the story go on as it was because it very good, but the little inaccuracies that was bothering me was getting harder to ignore, the more I read on. I have two Navajo friends, and some of the stuff here doesn't seem right.

The beganning is fairly accurate. Lot of Natives go to College, (In fact, I seen several commericals appealing to viewers to give to the TribalCollegeFund. Rules about the Reservations, (they have own laws that you have to respect, and state and local law can't interfere.) are true. However, Most of the Indians that I know (Zuni, Hopi and Navajo) are pretty open. ow I don't know too much specifily of Navajo ritual, but It seems that That you mixing different traditions. For example, Navajo are not known for dolls or masks, but the Hopi Indians are.

That said,I not entirely sure on the subject of Indian riturals and celemonies, since as we diccuss in some class, cultures are fluid things, that borrow and used ideas one and others. Some Reservations, particularly the larger ones, have several Indian tribes living in one area, and many Indians live outside the Reservation.

I sorry for the semi-lecture, but I said before, this subject is sort of serious. I realize of course that I nit-picking. It meant to be a scat fantasy, and you don't need accuracy to make a good, or great story, but I had a serious, serious issue, with a Wild west Story, that was posted a few months ago here in this forum. I had soo many frustrating moments as I read that. How did a band of "outlaws" simply lay down their guns and submit to the woman there, (and become their tolients). They are outlaws, for Goodness sake.

Sorry, I got a little angry there. Sorry for my rambling. Just contiune the story as you intended. It a good concept, and I know it's just a rough form of story to have in your head. I realy should be complaining, since you problaby post this to gauge people reactions. I hope you contiune to add on to the Curse.
May 5, 2009
smother sitter, thanks for your ideas! Yeah, I know Navajo didn’t actually practice voodoo. Perhaps the medicine man will end up eventually being a non-Navajo foreign magic Migisi witnessed as a child… Maybe a Haitian acquaintance; paid or in some other way compensated for helping avenge her son. Food for thought.

- Way