by Dae Rider

Created on: November 25, 2008   Last Updated: January 12, 2009

My people are descendants of the great Cherokee nation. My great-great-great grandmother was a small child when she walked the Trail of Tears. She was hidden in one of the caves in Tennessee to escape that deadly end. A young white couple took her in and raised her as their own. Years later, she married their son. When I was young, my grandfather would tell me about her amazing tales of excitement and danger. One of the few times I saw him smile, was when he would sit down to tell a story to his grandchildren. This is one of his tales.

Back in the early days, everyone was fearful of the night and when dusk fell, they knew that it was time to be indoors with the everything closed up tight. My father was a young boy when his Indian grandmother gave him the responsibility of checking all the windows and doors at night, making sure everything was locked and secure. She told him that if he should fail in that task, all those that he loved and cared about would become victims of night prowlers that roamed the hills and caves of their property. The boy was careful for awhile, but it got terribly hot up in his bedroom loft in the summer. He could not see what a small opening in the tiny window could hurt. Cool night breezes would sweep away the hot air up there and he could rest comfortably, instead of lying awake for hours trying to sleep in the unbearable heat.

My father knew of only one thing that dwelled in the caves on their land. An old Cherokee medicine man was living there. He had spent many days in those hills, watching that old Indian slowly going about his daily tasks gathering herbs, making fires and chanting to the Great Spirit. The boy reckoned, if that feeble old man was safe in an open cave at night, then his family was safe with just one open window. It was too high for any predator to get into.

My father had only slept three nights in comfort with pleasant breezes blowing through the window when he was awakened by the oddest sensation that he was not alone in his loft. Over in the corner of the room were the eyes of an animal, shining in the moonlight. The boy screamed, only to have it die in his throat when a massive black panther leapt out at him! The large feline missed its target as the boy fell backward out of the loft. The sleek ebony ghost silently vaulted into the night from the bedroom window. The only person to awaken in the chaos was Grandmother. She asked the boy what happened. He told her everything, including his own mistake about leaving

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