Chapter 4: Vintage Ghost of Ontario (The First Draft)

        What I'm about to share with you guys is The Ghost of Ontario's horrible, first short story draft. I was basically told it sucked by my writing teacher, in a nice way, so I went back and edited it. However, I still want to share this vintage draft with you guys.

 

        I do not have many memories of my past. I seem to recall a storm, but that’s pretty much it. The only memories I have are of my peaceful days in the Lady Evelyn-Smoothwater Provincial Park. Ro, Dempsey, and I canoed, played, and hunted. That was our life. Who am I? I am Ihaan, and I am ten winters old. I’ve been given the gift of manhood by the Spirits. I have muscular arms, and my hair is long and brown. Ro is an eagle, while Dempsey is a moose, and they are the only family I have. At least, I thought they were, but then I met Ranger Kate.

        Ro, Dempsey, and I were out patrolling Red Squirrel Lake when we found an injured bird. The poor thing crashed into a tree and bent its wing. Its injury reminded me of my own injury. Since my birth, I’ve always had a bad ankle. It is the main reason why I canoe more than I walk.

        Ro perched herself up on my canoe, and Dempsey hid in the shadows as I set the bird’s wing. When I went to put it in the knothole of a tree, I saw her. Ranger Kate. Just like me, she had long, brown hair, deep brown eyes, and brown skin. Our eyes met, and we stared at each other for a long while.

        When she finally spoke, she asked me, “Who are you?” and I replied,

        “I am Ihaan.”

        Then came the storm. The rain poured like newborn pollen, and thunder shook the whole sky.

        Ranger Kate and I sprinted for our canoes, but a titanic wave swamped us. By the time we woke up, the storm had subsided, and we were resting on the beach of another island. I lost Ro and Dempsey. My ankle ached, and my head throbbed at the sight of Ranger Kate.

        She sat on the trunk of a tree, where she spoke  into a weird, box-shaped machine she held in her hand. Eventually hopping down, she came towards me.

        Fear pierced me like an arrow. To get away from Ranger Kate, I climbed a tree and settled down on one of its branches.

        She stopped under me. “Please don’t be afraid. It’s just not every day I meet a hermit in this provincial park. The National Park Service is sending a boat to come get us, but they’re not going to arrive until tomorrow morning.”

        What’s a boat? I asked myself. Is it another animal?

        I don’t know what it was, but something about Ranger Kate comforted me. She begged for me to come down, and I did.

        A screech came from the sky, and a figure landed on one of my gauntlets. “Ro. Food. Find food.” My voice shook, for I was still a little nervous, but she nodded understandingly. She opened her wings, and I gave her a gentle push with my arm. As she flew off, Ranger Kate and I watched her.

        We took a tour of the island.

        Ranger Kate tried to ask me questions, but I answered with merely three words: “I am Ihaan.” We stumbled upon another beach. That was when I saw my canoe. How did it get here? My eyes wandered, and they landed on the still lake water where a pair of antlers just emerged. It was Dempsey who returned my canoe.

        Ranger Kate and I followed him. I sat in the stern of the canoe, while she sat in the bow and went through all my knick knacks I found while exploring these lakes: an old dry bag, a Native American doll, and a leaf. Strangely, she froze when she held the doll.

        A tear ran down her cheek, and she told me, “My son had a doll just like this. I lost him ten years ago on these very lakes. People say the Ghost of Ontario captured him.”

        The Ghost of Ontario?

        Ranger Kate must’ve noticed my confused face because she explained, “It’s a legend. Ten years ago, a little boy went missing on Red Squirrel Lake, and they say his ghost haunts this park. I refuse to believe he took my son. I know he’s out there, and I’m going to find him. That’s why I became a ranger.”

        Ranger Kate was starting to grow on me. Through sign language, I told her I will make sure the Ghost of Ontario doesn’t interfere with our adventure.

        She gave me a weak smile.

        Dempsey took us to a small cove, where we met back up with Ro. There, we found a school of pike and caught some for dinner. Under the setting Sun, I built a fire. Ranger Kate watched intrigued, as I lifted my hands and called the Spirits. The glow from the fire shimmered on the paint I wore around my torso and arms, as they came down from the heavens. They tossed themselves into the flame, and a puff of smoke escaped it.

        The Great Spirit stripped the smoke from the cooked pike, and I told Him, “Nia:wen,” which means “Thank you” in my tribe. He kept an open eye on Ranger Kate and I as we ate our dinner and danced around the fire.

        Ranger Kate banged one of my handmade drums. She moved her head back and forth to the music and nodded at me.

        Eager to join in on the fun, I pulled a wooden whistle from my dry bag and blew into it, but this was when things took a bit of a twist.

        “That song.” Ranger Kate told me, “I know that song. The Song of the Ghost, ‘Lucilla’.”

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        What did she mean by that? This song was “Soaring on the Wind”.

        “No.” Ranger Kate begged, “Please no.” She moved the drum off to the side and rose to her feet. Why did she look so frightened? I moved towards her, but she shouted, “Stay away from me!”

        Shivers ran down my spine. My nerves rattled like a rattlesnake. I tripped over my own feet and fell onto Dempsey’s nose.

        “You took my son from me!” cried the beautiful ranger, who stood in front of me. “And now you’re posing like you’re him! You really are the Ghost of Ontario!”

        A wave of pain swamped my ankle and head, as the Spirits tried to communicate with me. Ranger Kate’s words triggered everything. They helped me realize who I am.

        I saw the storm. It ripped through the park like a hurricane. There was a single canoe. Two figures sat in it: a mom and her little boy. A wave smashed into the canoe.

        The little boy screamed when a loud crack erupted into the atmosphere. He flew over the canoe’s bow and splashed into the lake. He tried to swim, but he couldn’t. The accident badly broke his ankle.

        As the current pulled him away from the canoe, his mother yelled for him: “Ihaan!” Then, a second wave hit it. It snapped in two pieces, and one of the halves smacked the boy on the head.

        That boy was me.

        My leaf. I needed my leaf. I dragged it out of my bag and placed its cool surface against my lips. This version of “Soaring on the Wind” has the power to soothe the fiercest rage. I’ve always felt like somebody taught me the leaflute a long time ago.

        The beautiful, melodic tune conquered the atmosphere like a warring nation.

        The fear and anger in Ranger Kate’s eyes vanished, like fog on a misty day. All she did was stare, and her jaw dropped to the ground.

        Ro landed on Dempsey’s antler and swayed like leaves in the wind.

        No longer did my ankle hurt. I felt peace, the most peace I have felt in all ten winters of my life. “Lucilla” was not just the “Song of the Ghost”.

        Tears fell like a fountain from Ranger Kate’s deep brown eyes. She clutched either side of my face and pulled it close to hers so she could closely examine it. “It’s you. The Ghost of Ontario’s brought you back to me.” Ranger Kate was the one who gifted me with “Lucilla” so many years ago. She was my past, present, and future. We bumped foreheads, and she told me, “You are my son. You are Ihaan.”

        I paddled Ranger Kate out to the heart of Red Squirrel Lake, where we witnessed one of the most beautiful star canopies I have ever seen.

        Ro flapped by our heads and soared into the black of night, like a wolf howling to the moon.

        Ranger Kate and I mashed up a bowl of berries and turned it into paint. We stuck our fingers into the blood of our ancestors and smeared it under our eyes. Our palms touched, and we curled our fingers.

        With the stars twinkling above us, we told each other, “Nia:wen.”

        We stayed this way, even as night progressed into day and a large, white monster emerged from the shadows. The boat.

        Ranger Kate and I turned our heads to get a better look at it. “It’s time to go home,” she said, “Ihaan, come with me to the Reserve. You are the future of our people.”

        I had to think about this for a minute. Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same.

        Ro and Dempsey knew this day would eventually come. Though they weren’t there with me in person, they visited me as Spirits. Two clouds, that took on the forms of an eagle and moose, visited Ranger Kate and I. They told me I must turn to my heart. What is it telling me to do? It told me that it belonged to Ranger Kate. I was home, and it was all because of “Soaring on the Wind”.

        As I left Red Squirrel Lake, I thought about my revitalized identity.

        Ro and Dempsey returned to the heavens, but I knew they were chanting goodbye from the island where Ranger Kate and I first reunited.

        Who am I? I am Ihaan, a fifteen-year-old boy who went missing from Red Squirrel Lake ten winters ago. I am the Ghost of Ontario.

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