My Culutiwa

The smile that spreads across my face is genuine for the first time in a long while.

" Hey man!" Stan bellows " wanna spill some paint?" 

" Let's do it." Adrenaline is pumping through my veins. I can already feel the pleasure of holding a paint brush in my hand. 

 The smell of a long-lasting friendship hangs thickly in the air.

    *.         *.            *

I am tied to one of the dining chairs in the room. Randy is sitting on an empty beer crate before me, a can of beer in hand. The ropes cut deep into my wrists and I cry out in pain. Randy's face is a contorted mask of delight. Saliva pools besides his mouth. I am scared of his bloodshot eyes; those eyes have been my tormentor for as long as I can remember. Mama isn't here to rescue me.

 " Papa please let me go." I cry out in pain.

 " You are a bastard son without a father. I am not your papa." Randy says, spit sprays unto my face.

" Your Mama is a whore and you are the cursed child nobody wants." Randy is at his favorite game of cursing again.

Suddenly his face changes to that of Lucifer's, with horns. Fire smokes out of his eyes, his eyes, his nose. There is fire everywhere. I wet myself before I scream.

I wake with fright. The tee shirt I wore to bed is soaked in sweat. My hands are shaking as usual. I have been having another nightmare, the same kind that haunted my childhood. 

 I get out of bed and take some aspirin to relieve my head of the pressure. Suddenly I feel the need to drain my mind of the noise that has become my curse. My sketchbook occupies its usual position besides my bed. I pick it up and begin to sketch, letting the pain and anger flow through my fingers onto the paper. My strokes are deft and shaky so the paper gets crumpled along the way. Finally, I am done and can feel the weight loosening in my head.  I do not bother to look at what I had drawn on the paper.

 " Silence.  " I say as I lay down again on my bed. I pull the blanket up to my chin and listening to Dolly Parton singing her ' Coats of Many Colors', I slowly sink into a dreamless sleep. 

   *             *             *

JOSIE

 " They say he killed the man... Little boy that he was, killed a man " Dad is telling me about the young man who moved into Mr. Jeremy's home. 

"He is Mr. Jeremy's nephew too. Patty told me Jeremy's nephew was in town " I reply. 

" Kid has the curse on him. Poor child. " 

New residents are often easily noticed in a small town such as ours. His arrival has become news that sparked mixed reaction. While some are determined to have nothing to do with him, a few such as myself and dad think it couldn't  be that bad if the law had let him go. 

" New teacher showed up in Mr. Jeremy' s place " I tell dad

"So soon, well what do you think about him? "

" Young. " I simply say while wiping dishes Dad has washed. 

"Tomorrow I am going to speak about the Navajo to my class. " I tell Dad. I think he senses the anxiety in my voice. 

" You are great, you know that right?  Just like your momma, you gonna do great, My Culutiwa"

 Mom used to call me Culutiwa. It is the name of the traditional bird of our people believed to be the bringer of happiness. I am glad Dad stills calls me same name and I believe I would do well because he says so. 

It is with shaky legs that I mount the podium in front of my mates. I am not the type that talks a lot among peers. I am sure Mr. Winchester is staring at me from across the room.

"Hello peeps. " I am nervous and I know it's obvious. 

" So as most of y'all know, I am Navajo from Utah. I was brought up on folklores. So I guess studying American history helps me know more about my people and maybe one day, I can let the world know more about us. " My confidence continues to rise as I speak. 

" We are the original owners of this land yet we have the lowest standard of living. It ain't right. To control the present and correct the future, we must understand the past. " 

The applause that greets my little speech is deafening. This is the first time I have spoken in a crowd of more than three since a long time now.  

         *           *               *

DANIEL

 My pretty student from the other day is also smart. I am getting more attracted to her. Maybe it isn't right but it's a good feeling. I imagine running my fingers through that dark hair. How can a girl look this pretty in faded tees and jeans? 

I sit through the rest of my period without really focusing on the rest of it. My mind is caught up in a place it has no business with. 

The class is soon over and I sight her leaving alone, backpack slung across her left shoulder. She is without the hippie friend. 

" Hey Josie" I hear myself calling. She stops a second in her track before turning, a perplexed look on her face. 

" Nice presentation there "

" Really?  Thank you sir " The smile on her face is priceless. I say nothing and she turns to leave. 

" Say, do you know a place where I could grab lunch? " I ask on impulse for lack of what to say. 

" I do. I work there afternoons."

" Oh great. So, mind hitching a ride or you driving?  ". I hold my breath fearing she would decline. 

" I am good. I don't drive " I let out a sigh of relief. 

" Good. Let's go then.  "  

"... Jeremy's nephew is in town too, heard the kid is a demon though. Young man killed his father. Such a bad child! ". 

The words of the African woman who owns the kitchen echoes in my head as I drive home. Lunch is ruined for me.