The Valley of the Dead River: Excerpt from Beyond the Fading Darkness

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In the 1740s, German immigrants and Shawnee Sakima referred to the Blackwater River as "The Dead River". There is an oral tradition that the Shawnee and Seneca believed the Canaan Valley was a place inhabited by spirits. When I learned of this, I knew I had to build a storyline about this beautiful valley in what is now West Virginia.

Red Hawk jolted awake. He reached for the musket, but it was gone. Panicked, he looked around and saw that it was lying on the ground next to the water twenty feet away. His heart was racing, and he was covered in sweat. The fire had gone out and the gray light of dawn made everything look ghostly and unnatural. A layer of fog hung just above the water. He wiped his face with his sleeve and stumbled over to the water’s edge. After checking on the musket, he knelt and splashed water on his face. The shock of the icy, brackish water brought him fully awake, and he exhaled deeply three times. He looked up. Across the river, barely thirty yards away a young woman with long tangled blond hair was standing on the opposite side at the water’s edge. Her pale skin, as white as the dress that hung loosely from her withered body contrasted with the gray and green forest. She said nothing. She did not move. She simply stared at him through the fog.

Still on both knees, Red Hawk’s first thought was that he was asleep, locked in a nightmare that would not end. But he had never dreamed of anything that wasn’t at least a small part of a memory. He had never seen this girl before, and nothing about her was even vaguely familiar. He reached down and splashed his face with the icy waters of the Dead River two more times and stood up. The girl did nothing. He raised his hand as if he could reach across the river and touch her. She did not move.

Red Hawk looked a few yards downriver and saw that he could make it to the other side by jumping across flat sandstones that broke through the water’s surface like tiny brown islands in a black swirling ethereal mix of fog and water. He took three steps back and turned to pick up his musket, making sure not to make any quick movements. Before he could turn around, he heard the girl bolt and sprint away, disappearing into the forest. He dashed to the sandstones and began jumping across. He reached the other side and could hear her crashing through the woods but could no longer see her. The valley was narrow, the river surrounded by vertical granite walls nearly one hundred feet tall. The only path was a game trail that ran parallel to the river through thickets and spruce trees.

Red Hawk ran after the young woman. As he ducked between trunks and branches, he forgot about Logan. He forgot about Wolf Creek and the burned settlement. He forgot about the woman and her mutilated baby. In a normal place, this young woman he was now chasing should have meant nothing to him, but he felt a pull that was inescapable. Something within him required him to find out who she was, and why she was alive in this dark place. He still could not see her, but the sounds of her flight, the broken branches, her footfalls, even her breathing remained close by, as if she were standing next to him. Just when he was about to stop and catch his breath, he saw her slip into a thicket of mountain laurel. He sprinted through the same gap and nearly fell off a cliff into the roiling waters of a great waterfall. Steadying himself, he turned to his left and saw the girl standing on the ledge a few feet away, her back to him. She turned and looked at him, an extreme sadness showing in her bloodshot eyes.

“Ich werde nicht zulassen, dass er mich hat, der b?se Wilde,” the girl shouted above the roar of the water.

Red Hawk, still trying to catch his breath held out one hand and laid his musket on the ground, “I will not harm you,” he said in Shawnee.

The girl just stared at him and shook her head back and forth. She looked over her shoulder at the rocks and raging water at the bottom of the falls, “Er hat jeden get?tet, den ich liebe.”

Red Hawk shook his head and held both hands, palms up, “I do not understand. Come, step away from the ledge. I will not hurt you.”

The young woman let her left foot slide back a few inches. She began to cry, “Alle. Alles. Wie konntest du? Wie konnten sie ihn das tun lassen?”

Red Hawk’s heart was beating faster than ever, “Wait! Please! I do not understand. Do you speak French? Can we speak in that way… Parles-tu fran?ais? Pouvons-nous parler de cette fa?on?” The girl’s eyes softened, but tears continued to roll down her cheeks, Red Hawk saw that she understood. She smiled slightly and nodded.

“Bien. Je m’appelle Faucon Rouge. Quel est ton nom?” Red Hawk asked.

“Sibylle. Je m’appelle Sibylle,” she replied.

He held out his hand and took a small step toward her, “Viens à moi, allons dans un endroit s?r.”

Sibylle tilted her head slightly and smiled as if she was trying to explain things to a child, “Il n’y a pas d’endroit s?r, Faucon Rouge. Nous sommes déjà morts.”

Red Hawk shook his head in confusion and stepped closer just as she let herself plunge over the edge of the cliff. She did not scream when she fell. He could only hear the roar of the water. He stood motionless, baffled by what he just witnessed. Slowly, hesitantly, he walked to the edge and looked over. The young woman’s body was splayed across the jagged rocks at the bottom of the falls. Her head was half submerged, her long hair drifting in the dark water, giving motion to her otherwise lifeless body.

Red Hawk stepped away from the ledge and fell to his knees. Exhausted, he sat there for a few minutes. A cold breeze came off the water and he shivered. He crawled over and picked up his musket, stood, and walked to the ledge to take one last look. He could not explain why, but he had to see her once more. As he leaned over, mist from the waterfall made it difficult to see and a lump formed in his throat. There was no sign of Sibylle’s body. A wave of fear washed over him. He blinked several times to clear his vision, hoping his eyes were playing tricks on him, but it did not help. She was gone.

Red Hawk found a seat on a nearby log and tried to control his breathing. He remained there long enough to convince himself that he was fully awake. The girl must have been pulled into the water by the force of the current. That was the only thing that made sense. He nodded in acceptance of his rational explanation, stood, and made his way back to where he could pick up Logan’s trail certain that if he did not leave this place soon, he would go mad.

GET THE BOOK AT: https://a.co/d/j6kAIFf