When I was little, I used to dream of going on adventures with my dad, the famous explorer Thomas Carter. He would be gone for months, leaving me with my aunt Marie, and come back with amazing artifacts and sovieners. The best present he ever gave me was a silver necklace with chinese symbols that spelled my name. Melissa. As I got older, my dad decided to take me on an expedition to Brazil. I thought my dreams had come true. I could already see myself swinging from vines and climbing up the steps of the Mexican pyramids. Guess what? My dad dumped me at some village and told me to behave while he was gone. I was NOT a happy camper. I spent almost all the first day pouting in a corner away from the curious native children who pointed at my strange apperance. I was rescued by an older woman with a red gown and a straneg walking stick. My father pointed her out to me before he left. The story-teller. She spoke stories of the past to educate the children of their ancestors. She took me into a large hut made of large sticks and mud. A fire emitted a bright glow and warmth as I walked in. She set me on a large banana leave that served as a mat and sat across the fire from me. She didn't say a word to me as she pulled a strange pot from behind her into her lap and opned it. An overwhelming scent of dirt and dead meat caused me to fall into a coughing spasm. The story-teller ignored me as she reached inside and then tossed a handful of reddish-brown powder into the fire. It burned brighter and stronger. The story-teller looked straight at me and began to speak, in poor English.
"Long ago, we were once spirits. We lived in trees and in animals and in water. One day, there was a war between good and evil. The good spirits changed their forms into the first humans. The evil spirits turned into unspeakable beasts. They fought for many years and many spirits were destroyed. Our wise creator ended the war and imprisoned the unspeakble beasts away in the Old World, but they could easily return if a human released them."
She was still looking at me, but her eyes had rolled over, showing the whites, and she started shaking. Her hand rose slowly and pointed at me.
"You know what I mean, child. Someday it will be the one you love who frees them, and only you can stop them!" I stood and ran. I couldn't stand to see her shaking or her white eyes. It was too much.
When my father returned the next day to find me in the same spot I was when he left. He asked me if I had fun or if I learned anything. I shrugged. I didn't tell him about the story.
That was my first mistake.