01-12-2021, 04:06 AM
Michael had lived his whole childhood not knowing about who is real family was. He had been abandoned at a homeless shelter when he was a newborn, completely unwanted by his birth mother.
He spent most of his childhood bouncing from one foster home to another. The only thing he knew about his family was that his parent were addicts and had been murdered not long after inheriting their grandparents ranch in Montana.
When he finally turned 18 and he was out on his own. He decided to try to find his roots. After some searching, he found that his parents and four siblings had been murdered in the family home in Wyoming. His uncle had moved into the home a few years later. Both of his sons were also killed in the home.
Michael decided to travel out west to the family home. The journey was long and dull, but he was glad to see the wild American west. He hitchhiked into the small rural town and went to the town hall to find out more about his family's residence. He learned that his uncle had just died a few months prior and the house was empty.
It appears that Michael was the only remaining heir to the estate. But the mayor warned Michael that the place was cursed. He told him that Michael's great-great grandfather was infamous for leading a posse to massacre the Indians who used to live on the land. He told him that the land was an ancient tribal sacred site where the spirits of the Indian warriors still wandered in search for revenge.
He hiked out to the old homestead. It was a large ranch-style mansion. Sure, it needed a little work, but Michael didn't mind the work. He spent his first night in the parlor room since that was the only room he had been able to clean up.
![[Image: vlcsnap-2012-09-12-11h28m06s88.jpg]](https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3QRTcD62iQY/WGvwUKeZdrI/AAAAAAAAANs/ngsUhzf1dWcdJJM9FfBbnLN5ACl1GWytACEw/s640/vlcsnap-2012-09-12-11h28m06s88.jpg)
The Indian spirit placed his bare foot on Michael's shoulder as he knelt down over his victim. He rammed his dagger into Michael's bare chest and ripped out the young man's heart. "You won't be needing this... You didn't have a heart anyway."
He spent most of his childhood bouncing from one foster home to another. The only thing he knew about his family was that his parent were addicts and had been murdered not long after inheriting their grandparents ranch in Montana.
When he finally turned 18 and he was out on his own. He decided to try to find his roots. After some searching, he found that his parents and four siblings had been murdered in the family home in Wyoming. His uncle had moved into the home a few years later. Both of his sons were also killed in the home.
Michael decided to travel out west to the family home. The journey was long and dull, but he was glad to see the wild American west. He hitchhiked into the small rural town and went to the town hall to find out more about his family's residence. He learned that his uncle had just died a few months prior and the house was empty.
It appears that Michael was the only remaining heir to the estate. But the mayor warned Michael that the place was cursed. He told him that Michael's great-great grandfather was infamous for leading a posse to massacre the Indians who used to live on the land. He told him that the land was an ancient tribal sacred site where the spirits of the Indian warriors still wandered in search for revenge.
Michael pushed this all off as superstitious nonsense. He decided to move out into the ranch house.
He hiked out to the old homestead. It was a large ranch-style mansion. Sure, it needed a little work, but Michael didn't mind the work. He spent his first night in the parlor room since that was the only room he had been able to clean up.
During the night, he awoke from his sleep by a noise on the deck outside his window. He stared out from his chair as he saw what appeared to be an Indian sneaking past his window.
Michael sat still in the chair and pulled up his blanket. He watched as the Indian stopped in front of the window as if distracted by something ahead of him.
Suddenly, the Indian turned his head straight at Michael. He let out a whoop and crashed through the window, leaping at Michael. Michael screamed out in fear and leaped from the chair where he had been sleeping. He half-expected to fight the Indian, but there was nothing there. The room was dark, the window was undamaged.
Holy Crap, that was quite the nightmare, Michael thought as he let out a sigh. His heart was racing from the dream. "Fuck the Indians." the young man whispered beneath his breath.
He made his way down the hallway towards the bathroom. As he got halfway down the hall, a picture fell from the wall. It was a picture of the old Indian chief and beside him was the warrior who attacked him in his dream.
At first, the site startled him, but he quickly pushed the fearful thoughts aside and again said, "Fuck the Indians."
Out of nowhere, there was a swooshing sound and Michael felt to hard thuds against his lower belly, nearly knocking the wind out of him.
He staggered back slightly and stared down at two arrows sticking out of his gut. He then heard the words, "No, not Fuck the Indians..... Don't Fuck with the Indians"
![[Image: vlcsnap-2012-09-12-11h28m06s88.jpg]](https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3QRTcD62iQY/WGvwUKeZdrI/AAAAAAAAANs/ngsUhzf1dWcdJJM9FfBbnLN5ACl1GWytACEw/s1600/vlcsnap-2012-09-12-11h28m06s88.jpg)
Michael slowly sank to his knees as he watched the ghostly image of the Indian warrior walk up to him. The warrior grabbed the ends of the arrows and ripped them out of Michael's gut. The young man writhed on the floor in pain.