The Haunted Room A TWILIGHT ZONE story
- 3 years ago
- 11
- 0
The Indian Maiden - A TWILIGHT ZONE Story free porn video
"You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension
not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a
wondrous land whose boundaries are that of the imagination.
Next stop: THE TWILIGHT ZONE." - Rod Serling
***
The Indian Maiden - A TWILIGHT ZONE story
By Anon Allsop
An ancient, blind Indian woman is asked to provide a squaw
for a brash, handsome warrior prince. She agrees and
summons one through the spirits.
Here on this sacred land, drums pound the beat, squaws
chant their song, and warriors dance around the fires. For
this ancient land is located in...THE TWILIGHT ZONE.
The young bronzed warrior sat crossed legged in front of
the small fire, opposite him sat an ancient squaw. He laid
the leg of venison in her lap as her knotted fingers traced
the raw meat. She was blind, unable to see from a very
young age. The weight upon her lap caused her to smile,
revealing several missing teeth.
"I have agreed to support you in your old age, ancient one.
Now, will you hold your end of our agreement?" The warrior
spoke slowly in his broken tongue, for each was from a
different tribe, speaking completely different languages.
The White man's tongue being the only language they
mutually knew, albeit somewhat shakily.
She tipped her head slightly, white hairs straying from the
tight braid that trailed down her bent and crooked back. "A
great and powerful warrior should go out and find his own
woman, this is strange indeed! How do you expect me to find
one for you...can you not see that I am blind?"
"You see well enough old woman, many who have sight cannot
see as well as you." The warrior slowly stood to his full
height, his bronze skin was clean and deeply tanned. "When
should I come for my woman?"
She held her slim, bony hand over her broken smile, "The
spirits say that before the moon becomes a thumbnail, you
shall have your bride."
The warrior looked up at the half moon and smiled, "It
isn't a mate or bride that I am after, but only a woman."
"Woman, squaw or bride. They are all the same." She pushed
an iron rod into the length of the leg, as she struggled to
penetrate the flesh she added. "Why do you want this woman
if you do not intend her to give you children?
He smiled, showing strong, white teeth. "My father wants me
to marry a young maiden of his choosing, this is my way of
saying that I want my own choice!"
"It will not be your choice if I find her for you, it will
be mine." The ancient one cackled.
"She only has to pretend to be my wife, I could care less
if she likes me." The youth pushed his quiver to the center
of his broad, bronze shoulder. "When I am finished with her,
she can go on her way!"
The old woman kept her face toward the fire, "You would
disrespect any woman if you should bed her, then throw her
out of your teepee! What happens if she comes to love you?"
The tall warrior's face grew stern as he looked into the
flickering flames of her fire. "Then I might have to decide
if I love this woman enough to keep her by my side."
Far off to the west, the clouds flickered with electrical
energy. The old woman tipped her head in that direction,
"The storm will bring her to me, you must go."
He looked off toward the lightning as it danced between the
clouds, "I will stay here with you and wait for my woman."
"No. You must go. The spirits will not bring her to me
unless you have gone away. Return when the Great Spirit's
thumbnail is high in the sky, your woman will be waiting."
The youth gave her a slow nod, even though she had no way
to see it.
She smiled as she heard his unshod pony ride away, with it
she could tell it carried the weight of its rider, headed
back in the direction of his village. She had much to
prepare before she could produce a woman for the young,
warrior.
******
Elam Hunnicut raced out of the building and into the
darkened street beyond, he spat blood as he touched the
wound on his lip. The large man swung open the saloon doors
and let fly a string of profanities behind the racing youth.
Behind a large rain barrel the young boy hid, staying put
until the large bartender retreated into the saloon he
tended. With a huge sigh of relief, the young boy sat in
silence, his heart pounding in his ears. It was getting too
dangerous in this town, he would move on to the next one
where none would know him.
He sat out in the darkness, staying off the road, yet
traveling parallel with it as the night wore on. Far off in
the west he thought he saw a flicker of lightning among the
clouds, as he walked, he kept his eye locked in the area he
had thought he was seeing the developing storm. Again a
bolt of lightning raced between two clouds, it was true, a
storm was approaching.
Elam took stock in his situation, too far away from town to
return, no real cover where he was. For only a moment he
thought about sheltering himself under the canopy of the
trees, but he knew well of the consequences of being under
a tree when lightning strikes. He scanned the South, it
would never work to head into that direction. Only rough,
barren, open land lay that way, surely no shelter could be
found there.
To his left, lay North. He knew that there were a few small
abandoned cabins up in those wooded hills, hopefully he
could stumble upon one of them before the storm hit.
******
The old woman moved inside her teepee, starting a small
fire within several stones to contain the flames. Removing
a burning twig, she transferred the fire from one pit to
the next. Slowly she moved the venison leg to the fire
inside where the rain had less of a chance to put out her
flame. Outside, she scooped several handfuls of dirt onto
the fire and extinguished it to a smoldering spiral of
smoke.
As she was pulling at the flap door she heard a noise
nearby, the old woman paused and listened as someone moved
through the woods near her home. A slow smile spread across
her toothless face as she heard a young voice call out
softly.
"I saw your fire, can I come in?" The old woman recognized
it as the language of the whites, she frowned, hoping that
it would have been another Indian. "I don't have a weapon,
I won't do you any harm." The voice said as the area around
them crackled from the impending storm.
The woman stepped outside her teepee and held the flap
aside for the youth to enter, he did and she drew it shut
behind her. As she tied the flaps shut, the rumble of
thunder could be heard just outside the thin hide wall.
******
Elam could see that the old woman was blind, she fumbled
with the straps but managed to tie the door closed just as
the storm hit. He watched as the old woman sat down and
slowly turned the large animal leg, hovering just above the
fire.
He was unsure if she could speak his language, but decided
to try to converse anyway. "I'm from town." He looked at
the flap, all the while, she said nothing. "I ran away from
the man who had been beating me." He continued to watch her,
unsure of weather she understood him or not.
Finally, the ancient woman settled back upon her sleeping
furs. "Your..." She frowned as if searching for a specific
word, "Your father?" She asked, then added, "How many
seasons are you?"
Elam frowned, unsure what she was asking. "It's late
summer...and no he wasn't my father."
The old one laughed then again asked, "How many seasons are
you?"
He sat perplexed, not fully understanding her meaning.
"Seasons? Years? Are you asking me how old I am?" It was as
if a light was suddenly turned on in her head, she smiled
and patted his small hand. "If that's what your asking,
I'll be 16 next month." He replied.
She reached behind her and moved a clay bowl nearer the
fire, inside were a plethora of leaves and nuts, many he
had no idea what they were. She smiled at Elam as she
placed her finger over the rim of the bowl, pouring water
in it until it touched the bottom of her skin.
She sat crossed legged before that little bowl, her lips
moving slightly as she chanted a Indian prayer. The boy
said nothing, he was interested in what she was doing,
afraid that any noise on his part would break her
concentration. She raised a long knife up and pricked the
end of her finger, allowing three small drops of blood to
dissipate in the concoction floating in the bowl.
Elam watched her stir it with the knife, raise the bowl,
mumble something, then place it down upon a snow white fir.
She opened her unseeing eyes and smiled, gently wrapping
the edges of the white fur completely around it.
Finally, she folded her hands in her lap and smiled. "What
is your name, child?"
"Elam. Elam Hunnicut." he answered politely.
"Elam is no good for an Indian." She thought hard for a
moment. "I will give you an Indian name, would you like
that?"
Elam nodded, the Indian lore had always held him fascinated.
He anxiously waited for her to name him, she smiled at his
eagerness.
"The great spirits wish for you to be named Ne-A-No." She
proclaimed as she again turned the great meat on the spit.
"What does it mean...in Indian?" The boy asked of his new
name.
She smiled and lifted the bowl above her head, "It means
White Dove!"
Elam frowned, "That sounds like a girls name."
The old woman shrugged and handed the small bowl across to
the boy, "As is custom, you must drink from the bowl!" Elam
frowned as he took the strange looking brew.
The ancient one could sense his apprehension, she smiled.
"It would be an insult for you to refuse." Then she
chuckled, "Once you have finished, we can eat of this
venison which I have been cooking."
Elam smelled the bowl, frowned at the thought of her blood
mixing within the liquid, hesitantly, took a small sip,
then began to set it down. "You must drink it all,
otherwise the spirits won't give you the gift that they
have prepared for you!"
The boy smiled, "A gift?" Elam liked getting gifts, the
last he had ever remembered was before he left Boston, when
both of his parents were still alive...before he traveled
west with his Uncle and was forced to work in his saloon.
As the storm raged outside, Elam tipped the bowl and drank
down its entire contents, including the small fragments of
leaves and crushed nuts. He frowned at the strange flavor,
it was bitter and smelled awful. As he finished, he handed
the bowl back to the old woman who promptly felt the inside
with her finger, making sure that Elam had drank down every
last drop.
"Ah, the Spirits will bless you greatly." She placed the
bowl behind her and again turned the great piece of venison
on the long rod, its juices dripping and sizzling into the
fire.
"I'm getting pretty warm. Are you warm?" The boy asked,
loosening his white shirt slightly.
"I am fine, Ne-A-No." The old woman said, checking to see
if her meat was done. "Feel free to take off your shirt. I
am a blind old woman, I have been unable to see for many
seasons. You won't offend me."
Elam unbuttoned his shirt, then rolled his long sleeves up
to above his elbows. "Is that better?" Asked the old Indian,
as she handed him a small slice of the meat.
"Some." Answered the boy, as he took the venison from her
wrinkled hands.
Together they sat in silence, eating for over an hour.
Finally the old woman wrapped the meat in a hide, trying to
protect it for another day. "You feeling any better, Ne-A-
No?" The old woman asked the boy. "Are you still too warm?"
The boy could feel himself becoming ill, the entire time
that he had been sitting there, he grew dizzy. "I...I feel
so light headed." Elam answered. "My stomach is rolling as
much as the thunder."
The old woman smiled, "Do you feel it here?" She said
touching his aching belly.
"Yes." Elam groaned, holding his stomach with his hands.
"It will pass." She calmly replied, "You will be better,
Ne-A-No."
Sweat beaded upon the youth's lip, his skin glistened from
the expelled moisture as his fever rose. Elam tugged where
his shirt was tucked inside his pants, finally able to pull
it out completely and remove it from his body. He fell back
into a great pile of furs and slowly blacked out.
******
The old woman smiled as Ne-A-No fell to the furs, the Great
Spirits were doing their work on this youth. Without seeing,
she knew already, that he was developing slight mounds upon
his chest, his small round nipples would be growing darker
and expanding in size. In her mind she could see that his
hair was gradually turning from its deep brown to an almost
black, the hair on his lashes and brows darkening as well.
As the youth lay unconscious, his skin deepened to a
slightly copper hue, softening and becoming silky smooth to
the touch. His hands slowly appeared to take on a feminine
shape, the nails becoming longer and oval.
The old woman smiled at the drugged youth, gradually, she
removed his shoes and other clothes. She smiled as his
crotch was losing its once male attribute, another would
take it's honored place only, it wouldn't be facing the
same direction. She snickered softly as Ne-A-No's areola's
expanded to the size of a silver dollar, the flesh behind
it swelling out as it grew.
Ne-A-No's waist tapered and flattened, her stomach narrowed,
becoming tempting for the young man who would soon be there
to fetch her. Her hair suddenly splayed out away from her
head, expanding outward like raindrops upon the dry earth.
The hair was raven black and would most likely reach her
soft, round copper colored bottom.
The young Indian maiden, Ne-A-No, reshaped before the old
woman's vacant eyes, the beauty's nose grew smaller, her
young lips became fuller. The old woman smiled at what this
creature would present to the handsome warrior, he wouldn't
stand a chance against the beauty that Ne-A-No now
possessed.
The sleeping girl continued to become more and more
feminine, gone was the appendage that nestled between her
once hairy legs. Replacing it was a soft mound of dark hair,
shiny and black, soon to be a nest for another. Her legs
became flawless and entirely void of hair, long and shaped
sexily to lock around her lovers waist as they coupled.
Ne-A-No's feet grew smaller, shaped daintily compared to
what they once were. Her raspy male breathing gave way
slowly to a higher pitch feminine voice, able to woo any
male she chose, with a single call with her lilting tone.
For four full days the young maiden remained sleeping, her
body slowly altering from that of the white boy she once
was to the lovely, Indian beauty that lay under the furs
entirely naked.
At the end of the week, when the tiniest sliver of moon was
showing, the old woman heard the warrior riding into her
meadow. As he slid down from his pony she stood outside the
teepee. He swaggered toward her bent and crooked frame,
"Tell me ancient one, have you found me my squaw?"
She slowly gestured toward the teepee and then back to the
warrior. "What will become of the girl?"
"I will use her, then send her away upon my own choosing."
He strode past her, toward the teepee. "If she is beautiful
I may allow her to be honored with my child."
The old woman frowned, "There will never be love in your
teepee? This woman and your offspring will be unloved by
you...this much I can foresee, the spirits have whispered
it into my ear."
"I will be chief! My people will respect me!" The warrior
boasted, "What do I care of love? The girl will share my
furs, whelp my children, and when I send her away, another
squaw will take her place."
The old woman scowled at his comment, "Being chief is more
than a title, you must earn the respect of your tribe, as
well as give it!"
"Out of my way old woman!" The young brave spat as he
pushed the flap aside and entered.
The ancient one touched the arm of the young warrior, "To
awaken her, you must drink of the spirit bowl. Only then
will her eyes be opened for you."
The warrior frowned at the bent, old woman, then gently
pulled back the fur covering his young squaw, revealing her
nakedness. His eyes lit up with fire as he took in Ne-A-
No's spectacular beauty. Gently, he traced a finger around
her nipple, causing it to swell in arousal. "Anything, old
woman. I must have this young maiden as my squaw. Her
beauty will gain me respect among the other warriors!"
"The ancient one frowned, "And when her beauty is gone?"
He flashed her a handsome smile, one that she neither could
see, nor beheld the wickedness that was in her heart. "She
will go out of my teepee." He said, jerking his thumb over
his bronze shoulder.
The old one gave a disgusted snort, passing the prepared
bowl unceremoniously, to the young warrior. "Drink this,
only the leaves should remain behind, she will awaken once
the tea is entirely gone."
The warrior tipped the bowl up, drinking down the
concoction. As he finished he handed the bowl back to the
old woman, and wiped his mouth against his muscular forearm.
"You have held your end of the bargain, we will tell my
village that she is your granddaughter. You may live in my
village, beside our teepee, and help her prepare our meals.
The old woman smiled and nodded slowly, placing the bowl
back on the white fur she had once wrapped it in. The young
warrior turned and sat beside the fair Indian beauty, his
bronze features glistening in the reflective firelight.
"When will she wake?" He asked as he wiped the perspiration
from his brow.
"It takes time." She sighed as she looked toward the
unsuspecting, naked girl laying beneath the covers. She
began to pack a long clay pipe with the leaves that the
warrior left in his bowl. As he watched her light the pipe,
the winding smoke floated about her head and began to crawl
across the teepee toward the slumbering maiden and handsome
man. The young warrior frowned at its putrid smell, carried
upon the smoke the air was bitter. It's stench was thick in
the air, carried inward with each breath, disgusting was
the taste each time he inhaled. Slowly, his eyes grew heavy,
the warrior's head began to nod with the onset of sleep.
******
The young maiden's eyes shot open as the handsome warrior
placed her upon his wedding mat, she scrambled to the other
side of the teepee in fear. "What are you trying to do?"
She gasped in her native Iroquois tongue, then paused to
touch her throat in disbelief.
The tall warrior crouched upon his haunches, "You are now
my bride, my squaw." He smiled, patting the soft hide he
was kneeling upon.
Ne-A-No looked down at herself, unbelieving of what she had
become. Her shock was worn upon her face, she was young,
naked and feminine. "How have I become to be like this? How
did I become an Indian woman?" She cried, holding a
trembling hand against her lip.
"The old woman made you for me, she said your name is, Ne-
A-No! You are mine to do with as I please!" Again the
warrior touched the fur beneath his knee, "You will bear
many strong children for me!"
"I am a...a boy! I came from the town just west of here!
Who made me look like this Indian girl?" Ne-A-No demanded
in the strange Indian language of the man. As she realized
she was speaking he Indian tongue, she stumbled forward and
pleaded with the great bronze warrior, her small fingers
held onto his muscular arm. "How am I able to understand
your tongue, when I am not the same as you?"
"The old woman. She did this to you!" The Indian Prince
scooted closer to the terrified beauty. "She thought it
would be easier for you to adjust. You can speak both
languages very well, it will help when we make treaties
with the white settlers."
"I am not a squaw!" Ne-A-No cried, "I want to be a boy
again!"
"Only the old woman can grant that for you, she lives just
beyond our teepee. Everyone within our village thinks you
are her Granddaughter and she is all you have left. They
see honor in you for taking in the old one, caring for her
in her later years, even though her mind is gone!"
"Her mind?" The woman asked, unsure of what he was
suggesting.
"She doesn't speak our language, she is from a different
tribe. There isn't much that we can make out, most is lost
in translation."
"If she is my Grandmother, shouldn't I be able to speak her
language?" Asked Ne-A-No.
"You would think so...but...she is old and not really your
Grandmother. Now, enough of the ancient one...we have a
life to live!" He spoke softly, as he gently reached out to
the beautiful girl. He touched the maiden's soft skin, she
closed her eyes and leaned slightly into his hand. "She
said that you would become more receptive to me, once you
felt my touch."
Ne-A-No's youthful breasts heaved with each breath, she
felt a tingle race down into her stomach, then further into
her soft nest. "I...I am...Ela..Ne-A-No..." She sighed,
"White...White Dove...daughter of Two Feathers."
"I am your husband." The handsome warrior spoke softly as
the young female's voice echoed his own. He leaned close to
her ear, she closed her eyes and a smile broke from her
beautiful lips, "Come to my bed, Ne-A-No. Let us create our
child!"
She instinctively pulled closer to the young warrior's
warmth, slowly they drew the fur over them as they snuggled
into a lover's embrace. That evening, Ne-A-No became the
bride to a Warrior Prince, and mother to their future child.
******
Sitting near her granddaughters teepee was an ancient,
disheveled white haired, Indian woman, her mind lost to the
senility of her advanced years. She sat in a crouch,
rocking back and forth, her mind gone forever. One young
mother stood watching the old woman sadly, then pulled her
teenage daughter away. "Why does everyone look at the old
one, mother?" The younger woman asked.
"She is ancient, blind, and her mind is gone." The mother
sighed as she looked back, over her shoulder. From what
I've been told, "She believes she is the son of our chief!"
"But that's impossible, mother, didn't his son just take
her granddaughter as a wife?" The younger woman asked in a
laughing tone.
"Yes, and it has been a good thing. He is much nicer to be
around, especially since he has taken a wife. Their
marriage seems to have done him good." The mother snickered,
giving her daughter a knowing wink. The younger girl smiled,
glancing back toward the blind woman. The mother continued,
"She is allowed to live here because the warrior prince has
said, he would care for her while she is alive." The mother
frowned, "At the old one's age, I doubt if that will be
long."
******
The foolish warrior prince would spend the rest of his
short life in the shell of the ancient one, surrounded by
several bronzed skin children. Sons and Daughters of a
young and loving Indian family, together they would learn
to walk the bright sunlit paths of...THE TWILIGHT ZONE.
The End
[email protected]
Libbie
- 03.09.2022
- 9
- 0
The Crying Spirit A Twilight Zone Story
- 3 years ago
- 11
- 0
The Haunting A TWILIGHT ZONE Story
- 4 years ago
- 13
- 0
