Introduction. Was There Something More?

There is something to be said about a good story. There is also something to be said about a bad one. Most things go unsaid because a story is simply what it is—a story. There are many stories passed down to me. Some of which are lies and half-truths and some which are so unfathomable that they just might have really happened. Being unreliable, I believe them all, unwittingly. What choice is left but to believe?
There was a time when the men in this world were simpler and the women were even simpler than the men. Children were seen, but not heard. Animals and slaves had no souls—they were just here in the background breathing the air we breathe. There was also a time when land was a man’s if he was there first and not because he owned some deed or title. But we, at the last conquest of the world—changed the clocks of history. We wrote our own names in blood, whether it was our own blood or the blood of another, but nonetheless it was blood…we used it to write our names across these pages you read.
The frontier used to be a place we call Missouri. Some might have called it the end of the face of the earth. It was hot. There were no rules, no laws, just lawless men and women. Vigilante justice was supreme. We were the state full of heathens—both Indian and White. Split between having slaves and not having them. That was us. We were the “jumping off” point for all those crazy settlers looking for some opportunity out West. It seems the West was full of more heathens and lawlessness and vigilantes than Missouri was. I always thought Hell was a fitting name for Missouri. No justice, hotter than one could imagine and everyone had a devil in him. But I thought to myself, if Missouri was Hell…what was the West?
The west was full of fools looking for gold, women, land and whatever else they thought they might find there. Some went all the way to California just to get a good look at the Pacific Ocean. The west had mountains bigger than the Appalachians…and Indians and creatures called Buffalo. It had vast plains. It had everything a person could imagine. There were mountain men who knew trees and animals and how to interact with them better than they knew how to interact with a person. I was to be thrust into this world. A famous mountain man named Jedediah Smith once said that the “West was a place, not a way of life.” Most would agree. I don’t. I have never seen any one place on this earth affect so many lives and outcomes in this future world, than that of the West.
President James K. Polk has had this dream for these United States. He calls it “Manifest Destiny.” We are to expand until we can no longer expand. I don’t believe President Polk ever took one look to the west. I don’t believe he ever walked the plains of Nebraska…and yet we trusted his dream and ruined ours. Perhaps my mind would be changed later in the story, I do not know. Telling you the end would be silly since I am telling you the beginning. You would like to know the end though, wouldn’t you? You would like to see all that you missed since you’ve been gone…for you have been absent a very long time.
It seems that our family was always suited to go to the West. We didn’t know it at the time, of course. One mishap after another led to our need to leave Missouri. I could go over all the mishaps, but it would seem that most of them would be a waste of ink, which if you read above we write our pages in blood. To waste blood is an awful thing to do. There are at least three or four things worth mentioning which happened in the small place we lived.
Firstly, our grandparents passed on about three years ago. They were the parents of our mother. They are buried in a small family plot we own. Their graves are tended to nicely. We often go there every Sunday and place flowers on them. Our other grandparents, the parents of our father, that is…had a house fire and lost every possession which they owned. Our family is far too poor to take care of them, and with four children in the house and one on the way there is also no room. We managed to save enough money to send them to our Father’s sister, who lives in Independence. They live with her now. She is married to a doctor and has twin girls, Abigail and Anita.
Our good friends, the Martins, who have also fallen on hard times also, have gone away. They decided to chase the dreams of many other Americans and make the long journey westward. They have two children, Shep and Becky, who are the same age as Ayden and Ana and best friends with them. This of course, was a sad parting.
Our family resided seemingly alone through long winter months. We managed to get by. In the spring, things seemed to brighten up a bit. That is until Ayden fell ill. Ayden was the oldest in the family. He was handsome, smart and a good worker. He was Ana’s idol. He was her confidant. They of course had grown closer since the departure of their two friends. This illness would take his life. It would make him a ghost to our memories. To Ana’s memory, he would never leave and it is from then onward that we saw a strange things happening to her. Nightmares…constant talking to herself…unaware of reality…it was then that we wondered, was there something more…or did we only imagine? We always wonder….was there something more? If there was…what was it?
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