Storytelling is a lost art in our modern society. Storytelling was the glue that native poeple used to convey many meanings to their children and adults alike. One of the rules of storytelling is not to tell the listener what they are to get from the story for that would limit the endless possibilities the story may have for them.
I will try to post different stories from time to time. If you come across a story that you think others would like to read, feel free to email it to me and I will see if it fits for this site. Enjoy the story
Once many many moons ago, there existed an indian village in the wilds of some great, now unknown forest. Their spirit of preferable worship was the Great Manitoba, the guardian of all. In exchange for his protection, the villagers were forced to make sacrafices of some of their livestock and stored grains during the hard winter months. One year a particularly great and harsh winter arrived early....food was extremely scarce, and the villagers found that they could not afford to make their yearly sacrafice, for they would surely die themselves, of hunger. They cut down large trees to make poles, sharpening the tips, and binding them all together to create a great fence surrounding the village. By doing this, they hoped that they could protect themselves from the Great Manitoba's anger. For a while, everything prospered somewhat well. The fence kept away the great Manitoba, and with the absense of the food sacrafice, they found that they did indeed have enough to eat, and the village did not starve. Spring came, and fear of the wrath of the Manitoba had leasened. Fresh meat was again available, and a small hunting party left the protection of the fenced village. Many nights passed, and the hunting party did not return. The villagers worried, and new fear of the Great Manitobas wrath again emerged. A search party was sent out in search of the hunting party. Again, many nights passed, and neither the searching nor small hunting party was heard from. The villagers became frightened. The worried council met, and discussed and argued different ways on how they must solve their problem. A curious child entered the wigwam, and sat, hidden from eyes, and listened to their talks. After much time, he could stand to remain hidden and silent no longer. With a jump, he yelled "We must kill the Great Manitoba! That is the only way that we may save our village!" Many looked at him with scorn, how could one so young possibly find an answer to a dilemna that they themselves, the much older and wiser Chiefs, could not know. A motion was made to force the child to leave, when the great Elder spoke in his soft voice from his place of sitting "let the child speak". He motioned to the child, and said in his solemn voice "come young one, tell us how we must solve this problem". The child walked forward on unsteady legs, and began his explanation...."we must build a great pit, and trap the Great Manitoba inside of it". "How may we lure the Great and wise Manitoba into this great pit?" a scornfull cheiftan asked. "We will put a lamb into the pitt, and watch and wait untill the Great Manitoba arrives to partake of this sacrafice", the child answered. "And how will we kill the wise and powerfull Manioba, once we have trapped him?" another scornfull Chief asked. The solemn child again answered, "We will set him on fire, and burn him to death". A great murmering arose, and this plan was agreed on. At dawn, a large gathering of warriors went into the dense forest. In it, they dug a deep pit, placeing a lamb deep inside as an offering. For many moons they waited, hiding in the camp made close by. One night, when the moon had gone to rest in its home in the sky, a great wind arose, shaking the trees with it's fury. Seeing the sacrafice, it escalated into a form so horrible, those who remember the sight suffered from ill dreams untill their deaths. The creature fell upon the lamb in the pit, and horrible sounds of torture and slaughter filled the night air. The frightened warriors gathered around the mouth of the pit. When the great Manitoba realised the trick that had been dealt to it, he went into a fury. Shouting at the villagers, he cursed them, saying " I will hunt you! and eat you! I will destroy you all! And drink of your blood, and crunch on your bones! I shall follow you always! You will never be safe, nor shall the lines of your family!!!" The angry and terrified warriors set the Great Manitoba a fire, and a great screaming arose. Very terrible it was, such as would be heard from a million tortured souls. This commotion last well into the night, and was only dimished by the rays of the rising sun. Fear that the Great Manitoba might re-manifest itself into its original form after it had been burned, the ashes were completely gathered up and taken to the top of the highest mountain, and thrown to the four corners of the earth. As the ashes were thrown, a horrible laughing from the air around, arose. A deep and angry voice cried out: "I will keep my promise! I will feed upon the blood of yours, and every surrounding village forever. You will never be rid of me!!" As this was spoken, the clouds of ash formed into clouds of insects, that we know as mosquitos. Here we have the beginning of these blood eating pests.