Message-ID: <7782eli$9801251941@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year98/7782.txt> From: Spoonbender <Theodore@spoonbender.demon.co.uk> Subject: The Legend 2 (nc?) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Reply-To: "Theodore Spoonbender"@spoonbender.demon.co.uk Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Original-Message-ID: <34ca3fe5.4468505@post.demon.co.uk> The Legend ll ******************************************************************** (c) 1997 Spoonbender. A short story of an adult nature. Not to be read by minors. If you don't like this sort of stuff or you are underage then don't read. Contains more innuendo than sex. Can be freely distributed as long as it is not changed, including this heading. If it is to archived on a fee paying archive then please email me first for permission. This story is all fiction and is not based on anyone alive or dead. Please email me with comments, constructive criticism, fantasies you want put into words etc. Don't flame me if you don't like the content or you don't like my style. My address is theodore@spoonbender.demon.co.uk ********************************************************************* "Hey you!" Chief Sitting Eagle turned slowly to study the source of this irreverence. The feathers in his theatrical headress, donned for the tourists, ruffled slightly in the breeze rippling down from the Smoky Mountains. His inscrutable, gnarled, asiatic features, the sign of a true born American, regarded the speaker casually. He said nothing. "Yes. You. I was talking to you. Don't come your silent Indian shit with me" The speaker was a young woman. Casually dressed in a style that only good money could provide. She had, although she was still very young, the self assurance and arrogance that denoted a woman that was used to getting her own way. "Listen Bud. You're here to help the tourists right? We're tourists so help us. How'd you get to this Cherokee Museum? Come on we haven't got all day." She tapped her foot impatiently, as he continued to regard her, eyes unblinking. She was fairly tall, blond (from a bottle he guessed), tanned and slim. Pretty too. Like her companion who was a dark haired clone. Both of them the product of expensive health clubs. Now their mouths twisted in unified annoyance as he continued to hold his counsel. Her companion grabbed her arm. "Forget it Kell. Let's ask in the shop. He probably don't know, he's only the sweeper" she indicated the broom with which he was sweeping the veranda of the tourist trap. "Probably doesn't even speak English, frigging Hick" They pushed passed him and entered the shop. It was filled with all the usual trinkets that tourists the world over buy for extortionate prices which then, forever after, gather dust. Beads, blankets, carved gew-gaws. It was pure trading post, Hollywood style. They saw a startlingly handsome young man tending a couple of middle aged suburban 'Cowboys'. He flashed them a gleaming smile and indicated that he would be with them in a moment. As they waited the old Indian entered the shop and spoke briefly to him. The old man then returned to his duties, the broom moving in a desultory fashion, as he continued to regard the young women. At last the shop assistant finished and turned to them. "What can I do for you ladies?" "At last someone who can speak American" Said the blond. "Listen I was looking for the Cherokee Museum" Another smile. "Sure thats easy to find. Just go to the next turn off to the right. You'll see a big wall with a sign on it. Its just a few hundred yards away on the left." A pause. "You're not from around these parts. You on holiday?" "Yeah. All the way from Rhode Island. On a tour, seeing the sights before we go back to College in the fall." "Where are you staying tonight?" "Some hick town called Gatlinburg." "In that case can I give you a bit of advise?" The girls looked at each other then nodded to him. "Avoid Gatlinburg. Its a one horse kinda town. If its your lifetime trip then camp out on the mountain tonight. You won't regret it. The dawn over the hills is breathtaking.You ladies got camping gear?" Another nod. Of course they did. Unused, it nestled in the trunk of their BMW. Another beaming smile. "That's great. Look I'll give you a map of the park. Here I'll mark where you can leave your car. There's a trail up into the hills from there. It'll take you a coupla hours to trek up, but it'll be worth it. There's an old campsite up there and a vantage point. Built by the park authority, but not used much now. Too steep for the average tourist I guess. You ladies look fit enough. There's a fire point up there, a tower and all. You can stay close to that, there are washing facilities an all there." "Thanks but why are you helping us?" He laughed. "Its my job Ma'am. I get paid to help vistors to the area. Helps my folks too. 'Cause my folks own the grocery store across the street and I'm sure you're gonna buy your supplies from them now aren't you?" His laughter was infectious and the girls thought 'what the heck', it was something to tell their roomies back at College. "Sure why not?" Before they left he persuaded them to buy a booklet about the area. "To give you a sense of belonging. A feel for the history" They pushed past the old Indian as they left the store, hardly noticing him. ******************************************************************** "Listen Kell. It says here that there is legend about this mountain." Linda leaned on one elbow as she studied the booklet while her friend tried to get the gas stove working. "Shit! Ow I've burned my hand. Stupid fucking thing." She sucked the heel of her hand and then replied. "What?" Linda stabbed the book with her index finger. "A legend, about this area" "Probably says that you ain't supposed to use gas fires up here" "No serious. Its about some horseman of the mountains." "Oh yeah. Must be pretty good in the saddle cause I couldn't even get my hunter up here, up that frigging path. Talking of saddles I wouldn't have minded getting that guy in the store in the saddle. That was some buck. You see the size of the bulge he was packing?" "Kelly you are impossible. Here was I telling you all about the legend and all you can think about is some redskin stud. Mind you he did look kinda constrained in those jeans didn't he?" They both dissolved into giggles. It was much later, as the hurricane lamp threw weird shadows across the tent that they returned to the subject. "What's this about a horseman then?" "What? Oh yeah. In the book it said there is this legend about this area. All to do with the forced migration of the Cherokee. It says that one guy escaped. Stole an army horse and hightailed it. Left his squaw and kid. They died on the march. They say that he took to the hills looking for his lost love. You can still hear his hoofbeats in the dead of night as he seeks them out and seeks revenge for his loss." "Yeah right! How long ago did this happen?" "Over 100 years ago I guess" "So we got this guy, who is way overdue for a telegram from the President, thundering around on an old nag. Man I'm scared" "Aw come on Kell. Its just a legend. I think its kinda romantic, searching for his true love. They also say that the rain is his tears as he discovered them dead and the wind is his wails of anguish..." "...And the snow is his dandruff. Its crap Linda. Put together to give the tourists a cheap thrill. You fell for it too. I got one about Newport if you fall for that kinda stuff. About this diner, dumped in the middle of a parking lot, that serves stew made out of dead animals." Her friend pouted. "I still think its romantic" "Ok, Ok. You win. What else does it say?" "You'll make fun of me!". Sulked Linda. "I won't. Honest Injun". They both cracked up that. "You promise not to laugh?" Kelly nodded. "Sure. I promise." "It also said that he only comes out when the weather is bad. The legend says he makes it bad." "Yeah right. Does a rain dance does he?" "You promised to be serious Kell!" "I would but this is soooo corny." "Well I'm not going to talk about it any more. You'll only make fun" "Have it your own way. I didn't want to know anyway" Linda turned off the lamp and they both snuggled into their sleeping bags. The moon was high and bright as the hoofbeats sounded. ****************************************************************** "......And as the unseasonal weather continues to buffet the Mid West fears are growing for two teenagers, Kelly Litham and Linda Simon, who have been missing since last Friday. Their car was found abandoned near Newfound Gap in the Cherokee National Park by park rangers. Sources within the national park authority suggest that the girls ran out of gas and tried to make it out on foot. The park has only just reopened after being cut off by gale force winds and torrential rain. The search has been hampered by fallen trees and has been scaled down for the night but will resume in the morning. We'll continue to bring you reports as they come in" The Anchorman shuffled his papers, smiled and continued. "And on a lighter note. The winner of the Knoxville celebrity duck race was........." ********************************************************************* Juan braced his leg across the narrow doorway of the shack as he collected the Pesos from the head of the long line of eager Peons. Inside the squalid shack, two girls whimpered in unison as the endless stream of men forced their lust into their naked bodies. Already the matresses were rotting in the humid atmosphere and the chains holding their ankles apart were speckled with rust. Juan glanced out into the dusk. There must still be over 100 men squatting in the gloom and at least that number had passed through the door already this day. Just like yesterday and just like tomorrow. At this rate the girls would be used up in a few brutal months. Still what did he care. After all, they had cost him nothing. Stupid old Indian! ******************************************************************** FOOTNOTE: I'm looking for a lady who enjoys my type of writing and who is prepared to collaborate with me on future stories. You will naturally share the credit, such as it is. If you are her and you want to help weave your own fantasy. Then please email me. theodore@spoonbender.demon.co.uk -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | <http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/><http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/faq.html>