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MR INTRO WAYNE - Six Blade Knife


Nina

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Wayne had been still for the better part of an hour and his shoulders were starting to ache. He had come across this deer trail on his last trip and it had looked promising. The trail was in the heavy woods between the Harrison Reservoir and Chester Morse Lake. If the woods hadn’t been so heavy you would be able to see Ghost Point cliff which Wayne estimated to be about fifty or sixty yards north of where he was.

 

The trail still showed heavy activity for game animals, and he had seen some deer tracks as well as other small game but what had caught his interest was a lone elk hoof print that had been recent. Elk in the Cascades were common, but a lone Elk this close to human civilization was not. The prints had been large, the animal must have weighed on the high end of the scale 900 to 1100 pounds by his estimate.

 

Ahead of him the trail led to a wide creek that wasn’t on any of his maps. The location was a perfect watering hole and with luck the elk would come in for a sip. As he watched two small black-tailed deer approach the watering hole from the opposite side of the creek. Not wanting to waste the trip, even though the black-tails were very common and these were young, he went ahead and took some shots.

 

He had burned through about half a roll on the black-tails when they suddenly alerted. Wayne stopped shooting film and went totally still even though he was fifteen yards away, but the deer hadn’t alerted to him, they were staring up the creek away from where he lay. Then with a burst of movement they were gone heading back into the woods toward Ghost Point.

 

The photographer shifted to get a better look up the creek. Maybe it was a bear that would make for a satisfying trip. But it wasn’t a bear.

A man with a rifle came into view up the creek he slowed and studied the ground at the watering hole obviously noting the fresh deer tracks.

 

Off season hunter?

 

The man looked back up the creek and whistled. After a minute four more men came into view. Wayne watched through his camera.

 

Two of the men carried rifles behind them was a man holding a rope, a rifle on his back. the rope was attached to the fourth man whose hands and arms were bound. All the men wore jeans, work shirts and boots except the tied-up man who was bare chested and barefoot. All five had the square features of the local Native American tribes, the tied up man was young, probably no more than 20, the others looked older but still in their 20s.

 

The first man stood and pointed north and said something Wayne couldn’t hear. All of the gather together the tied-up man being yanked around unmercifully. Once they were all together, they shoved the tied-up man to his knees and started arguing.  It was then that Wayne noticed movement back up the creek, a young woman, girl really, came upon the group. She was obviously native American as well but, unlike the men, she was dressed traditionally although Wayne couldn’t make out any tribal marking on her clothes, and she was young, probably no more than sixteen or seventeen.

 

 The girl stopped several feet away from the men, but they paid her no mind. She looked at the tied-up man and Wayne saw sympathy.

 

Then she looked directly at the camera and at Wayne.

 

 

The Native American Girl

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Wayne put the camera's viewfinder up to his eye, closed his off eye and took a breath in. His fingers tightened on the side of his camera, and he could feel the slight breeze drying the cold sweat from the back of his neck. Caught up in the moment, he pressed the shutter button almost reflexively at the precise moment the woman looked right at the camera. Her presence making it seem as if she was staring into his soul. He KNEW this would be a photo that could change his life, but he wasn't sure if that was a good thing. He then adjusted his lens, and caught a couple of photos of the kneeling man, including one close-up showing the expression on his face, the uncertainty written in his eyes. His mind running a million miles an hour, for once, Wayne made sure to get photos of the group of "hunters" as well, just in case.

 

Although he had some experience with portrait work, Wayne usually preferred "working" with the local wildlife. He closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths to center himself, and tried to let his aura expand a bit, letting his senses and the emotion of the scene direct him for his next photo. This trick had won him a couple of local competitions by getting just the right shot at the right moment. Wayne prayed to whatever cosmological forces there were out there for two things. One, that the photos he had taken and would take of this "incident" would come out clear and sharp. Two, that if this were to go right off the cliff of badness, that he wouldn't be spotted. He tensed his leg muscles in place to make sure he wouldn't cramp up if he suddenly needed to run. Then Wayne returned his focus to the situation in front of him, his mind now recentered.

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The tension in the air was palpable as the group of men continued their heated argument, their voices rising in intensity. The bound man on his knees looked around desperately, his eyes flickering from one aggressor to the next. In a moment of clarity, Wayne realized that this was not just a random encounter in the woods. There was something darker at play here, something dangerous and sinister.

 

As he continued to capture the unfolding scene through his camera lens,he knew he was witnessing something he shouldn't have seen, something that could put him in grave danger if he were discovered.

 

Just then, the young woman, her eyes fixed on the bound man with a mixture of defiance and sorrow. Without a word, she reached into the folds of her clothing and pulled out a small knife. Again none of the men reacted to her presence at all.

 

Wayne's breath caught in his throat as she looked at wayne again pleadingly then sliced the knife blade across her right palm. Blood welled up and dripped from her hand. She made not sound but Wayne could see her lips moving as she made afist and with three hard shakes of her arm splattered drops of blood in three directions toward the bound man.

 

Wayne held his finger on the button taking pictures as he watched through his lens. The world beyond the camera seemed to slow, the droplets of blood hanging in the air like sparkling rubies spinning in the shaded light. As they slowly fell he felt a tightening of his body, as if goosefless had taken over his entire body, his scalp tingled and the hairs on his arm stood on end.

 

The girl vanished. She didn't move, didn't walk away she was just gone. Wayne lowered the camera and scanned the distant bank but could see no sign of her.

 

Then his attention went back to the men. Their argument was over they pulled the bound man to his feet and dragged him into the woods away from the creek and toward Ghost Point cliff.

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Wayne's brain was racing, trying to make sense of what he was seeing and feeling. Looking at the indicator for the amount of film remaining on the current roll, he sighed... 3 more shots before he'd have to change to the next roll. While he may be able to change to a new roll quickly, the rewinder would make quite a bit of noise. If he let it go, he'd have to make his way back to his car quickly and quietly. Before he took his final shots, he made sure to take out a small notepad and write down his coordinates, reading it from his handheld GPS unit as quick as he could. He realized that if he followed the men with guns, he'd most likely end up dead as well. He made a note in the notepad what direction the four men left in, and slowly but quietly moved back to the place he parked his car. Once there, he rewound the current roll of the film, opened the camera, took the roll out, and put it in a small plastic canister. He closed it back up and looked around carefully, willing his heart to slow down and the pounding in his ears to dissipate. 

 

Getting into the car, Wayne put his camera in his bag, zipping it back up. Once that was done, he reached into the middle console on his silver 1999 Pontiac Bonneville SE, and moved some of the contents to his passenger side seat, including a couple of granola bars, and a can of Fix-a-Flat. Under those, he revealed a small tab which when pulled up, revealed a small semi-hidden space. He put the film holder inside, once he marked the top of the cap with a sharpie. The mark was in the shape of a 6-pointed star with a x in the middle space. Once the mark was done, and the canister hidden, he put the lid of the compartment on again, followed by the other contents of the console. He turned on the engine, and slowly drove out of the parking area.

 

When he was about half a mile down the road, he pulled over, got out his cell phone and dialed 911. He told the dispatcher what he had seen, minus the information about the mysterious woman. He gave them the GPS coordinates and the landmarks around the area. Once that was done, he finally allowed himself to fully react. He put his head down on the steering wheel, and began to shake. The adrenaline that was fueling his "get-away" was finally exiting his system.

 

After he calmed down, he began to resume his drive, this time heading towards his studio at a slightly higher than normal rate of speed. He had to get back there and develop the film, ASAP.

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As Wayne entered his studio, he wasted no time in setting up the equipment to develop the film. The images he had captured were hauntingly vivid in his mind, and he needed to see them on print as soon as possible.

 

The dim red light of the darkroom bathed the room in an eerie glow as Wayne carefully loaded the film onto the reel, his hands steady despite the turmoil churning inside him. The chemical smells filled his nostrils as he poured the developer into the tank, gently agitating it back and forth.

 

As the first image began to form on the paper in the developer tray, Wayne's breath caught in his throat. The photograph showed the bound man on his knees, fear etched into every line of his face. The next few images captured the heated argument among the men, their expressions twisted in anger and desperation.

 

Wayne's blood ran cold. The woman was in none of the frames. Even those that he clearly remembered focusing on her only showed the forest. She was not there. She was not in any image!

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  • 2 weeks later...

Wayne ran his glove-covered fingers through his hair. He was more than a little confused and panicked. While he KNEW with all his heart he saw that woman, he also knew that photographs don't lie. "This isn't possible. I mean it is possible, but I don't think I was hallucinating. Then again, the point of a hallucination is that you think it's real..." Wayne muttered under his breath. He then let out a growl and scream of frustration. "Damnit. This is going to drive me crazy... or if it WAS a hallucination. even crazier than I am now." 

 

Wayne took a few deep breaths to help calm down. "I have to look at this rationally. If there was someone, they'd leave evidence. The police are sure to notice another set of footprints... but maybe I should ask some of my friends if they know of any First Nations members that would fit her description." He took out his small notepad and began writing down what he remembered of the young lady before his memory became clouded with time. Once he was putting down the description, he remembered the look in her eyes, and felt that that image would stay with him, forever. Maybe they will know more about it... more about her.

 

He picked up his phone and began dialing one of his students who knew people in the local communities.

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Wayne's student, Jason Cantwal, picked up the phone after a few rings, and Wayne wasted no time in explaining the situation to him. As he described the mysterious woman and some of what events he had witnessed at the creek, his student fell silent on the other end of the line.

 

“I don’t know professor, there are Hundreds of women who could meet your description. You didn’t get a picture of this woman? That would be easier to track down on the internet.”

 

Wayne attacked the problem from a different direction, emphasizing the woman’s dress and even lightly describing the cutting and splashing of blood, although he did not say it was real but, rather implied that perhaps it was some sort of LARP or something like that.

 

After a long pause, his student spoke in a hushed tone. "Wayne, very few of my people go in for that sort of fantasy stuff. You know that. But what you're describing sounds like the legend of the Blood Moon Maiden. She is said to appear in times of great turmoil, her blood sacrifices ensuring balance is maintained in the natural world."  

 

Wayne's heart raced at the mention of the Blood Moon Maiden. The legend was known among certain indigenous communities in the area, but he had always assumed it was just a myth. Could it be possible that he had truly witnessed her ritualistic sacrifice by the creek?

 

His student continued, "If you've seen her, Wayne, you must tread carefully. The Blood Moon Maiden is not to be trifled with. She is a guardian of ancient secrets

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  • 2 weeks later...

     Wayne sighed deeply, 'Thank you for the information, Jason. I promise I'll be very careful. If you find out any further information, let me know. " He disconnected the call, and sat down at his desktop P.C. When it booted up, he opened his web browser and began researching "Blood Moon Maiden."  While there wasn't much online about "her" what he did find was a bit disturbing to his thought process. "Damn. This feels a bit more serious than it first seemed. Although the fact that no one reacted to her presence, as well as the fact that I couldn't get her on film is weird, there has to be some sort of explanation. I just hope it's not that i'm hallucinating. Considering I hadn't heard of this story before, i doubt it." 

 

     Wayne then got his backpack out, and almost on autopilot, he began to unpack from his trail hike. His camelbak insert was taken out, emptied and cleaned. The wrappers from his granola bars were thrown in the trash, along with a couple of small wrappers he found on the ground.  His boots were taken off, and the dirt scraped off and the tops wiped down. Once that was done, he took off his jeans and light jacket and threw the jeans in the hamper. He put on a pair of comfy sweatpants, grabbed a copy of National Geographic and sat down on his favorite recliner, trying to calm his mind.

 

     The images of the woman, the tied up man's face and the grim look of the other men kept flashing through his mind. He seemed unable to let it go, and he began making up stories about the people involved. His train of thought was disturbed by a strong gust of wind rattling the wind chime set on his small porch to tinkling. He resolved to find out more, but he needed to figure out how. 

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He spent the rest of the evening researching the legend of the Blood Moon Maiden, delving deep into obscure forums and ancient folklore websites. The more he read, the more a sense of unease settled in his stomach. The stories painted her as a vengeful spirit, punishing those who disrupted the natural order or desecrated sacred lands.

 

As the night grew darker, Wayne found himself immersed in tales of disappearances and mysterious deaths linked to encounters with the Blood Moon Maiden. His rational mind battled with primal fear, unsure of how to process what he had witnessed by the creek.

 

Eventually, exhaustion caught up with him, and he dozed off in the recliner, National Geographic slipping from his hands to the floor. In his dreams, he saw the woman again, her eyes gleaming with an otherworldly light as she moved gracefully through the forest.

 

When he awoke with a start, dawn was breaking outside his window. He had dreamt but already the dreams faded but one image was clear... The Blood Moon Maiden cutting her palm and scattering blood, the drops big, red, and wet landing in the dirt of the stream bank.

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  • 2 weeks later...

After waking up, Wayne tried to shake the image out of his head, and then decided to drown the feeling it generated in him behind a cup of orange juice. After downing a large cup of the stuff, he decided that he had to get back out in nature and try to get his mind clear. He repacked his small hiking backpack with the built in Camel-bak. Inside he put a small slice of agate that he sometimes used in meditations. He resecured the various pouches on his backpack, and then noticed the not-so fresh smell and feel of his body. He headed to the bathroom, showered and changed into a similar shirt and jeans. Once that was done, after making sure he had his keys, wallet, and cell phone, he headed to his car with his backpack, refilled with water and some trail mix, which he put in his trunk. 

 

On the road, he seemed to zone out a bit, and almost drove on auto-pilot. After a bit of time, Wayne arrived at the same trail head that he had started from yesterday.  When he arrived, he felt almost as if a fog had lifted and he realized where he was. After  the shock of not remembering exactly how he got there, he stepped out of the car and grabbed the backpack from the trunk. He realized he didn't bring his camera this time, but when that thought crossed his mind he slid his fingers across slick face of the agate slice. That action reminded him of why he was here. It wasn't to look for something external, but to dive into his own mind and find his center. 

 

Wayne took a deep breath, put on the backpack and a pair of sunglasses, and took off onto the trail, praying in his heart that the trip would help calm his anxious thoughts. 

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The familiar rustling of the leaves and the gentle chirping of birds enveloped Wayne as he delved deeper into the woods. The sunlight filtered through the canopy above, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. Each step he took seemed to ground him further, the worries and fears of the past days slowly fading away.

 

As he walked, a sense of serenity washed over him. The cool breeze carried a whisper of ancient wisdom, and Wayne felt as though nature itself was speaking to him, soothing his troubled mind. The scent of pine and damp earth filled his lungs, calming his racing heart.

 

Lost in thought, Wayne didn't realize how far he had wandered from the main trail until came to the stream. He studied it looking both up and down stream, he was up stream from where he had been before. He turned to follow up stream but took only a few steps. The Maiden was again in his mind cutting her hand splashing her blood. Droplets glimmering on the bank. He turned and went down stream.

 

It took maybe ten minutes to come to the place he had witnessed the maiden and the natives. he crosses the stream and looked at the bank. He knet and pulled out a knife and dug into the clay until he found something a solid teardrop shaped stone, like glass, blood red, and hot to the touch. he held it in his had and felt… power.

 

He dug up six more of the stones each perfectly the same as if they had been cut by a jeweler.

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  • 3 weeks later...

Wayne frowned, and clutched the gem in his hand. 'What in the hell are these...' he thought after digging up the final one, placing it in a side pouch of his backpack, 'and what in the hell is going on. Am I having a breakdown?' Without further thought, as if his body was on autopilot he began moving further downstream. Lost in thought, he even ignored the wildlife around him. As he travelled, his mind started to race with the possibilities. 'Something really strange is going on. Something... deep. I wonder if Jason knows someone involved in the spiritual... someone shaman-like." 

 

He looked around for a flat spot relatively free of stones. Once he finally found one on the bank he was on, he cleared it off of the few remaining stones and put down his backpack off to the side. He grabbed his meditation focus, a slice of clear agate, out of the small pouch on the front, as well as one of the red gems. He put them down side by side in front of him as he sat down cross-legged.  Once seated, he tried to clear his mind and focus on the agate slice. As he drifted deeper into his meditative state, he then switched his focus to the red gem. As he shifted his focus, he also attempted to let the stress and tension flow out of his body and dissipate.

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The gem seemed to pulse in his hand, resonating with a strange energy that Wayne couldn't quite comprehend. As he delved deeper into meditation, images began to flicker in his mind's eye. Visions of the Blood Moon Maiden, her ethereal presence hauntingly beautiful yet tinged with a sense of foreboding.

 

The forest around him faded away, replaced by a surreal dreamscape where shadows danced and moonlight painted everything in shades of silver. Wayne felt a pull, a beckoning from the depths of the vision that he couldn't resist.

 

In his trance-like state, he watched as the Blood Moon Maiden stood before him, her eyes reflecting the crimson hue of the stone he held. She reached out a hand towards him, and instinctively, Wayne extended the gem to her.

 

A jolt of power surged through him as their fingertips touched, sending ripples of energy cascading through his body. Memories long forgotten stirred within him, ancient whispers of a time when the land

was in harmony with the spirits that dwelled within it. The Blood Moon Maiden's form wavered, her translucent figure merging with the shadows around them, becoming one with the forest itself.

 

Wayne felt a surge of emotions - awe, fear, curiosity - all intertwined as he gazed at the apparition before him. He sensed a message trying to push through the barriers of his conscious mind, a message that seemed to be woven into the very fabric of the land.

 

The Maiden's voice resonated in his head, soft yet powerful, speaking in a language that was unfamiliar yet strangely comforting. Images flashed before his eyes - of a time when humans and nature existed as one, of a great imbalance that had disrupted the natural order.

 

As the visions unfolded before him, Wayne finally understood. The red gems he had discovered were not just ordinary stones; they were fragments of a greater power that had been scattered throughout the land. And he, unknowingly, had become a guardian of these precious relics.

 

In Wayne's vision, he followed the maiden into the depths of the forest. As they walked, the trees parted to make way for them and then closed behind them with a gentle rustle. The winding path led them further into the woods until they reached two magnificent redwoods, their towering trunks reaching towards the sky. The branches above intertwined to form an archway, as if nature itself had created a grand entrance for them.

 

Beyond the archway, Wayne could hear the soothing sound of a waterfall cascading down into a pool of crystal clear water. The clearing was like something out of a fairy tale, filled with vibrant life - tall trees, blooming bushes, delicate flowers, and a variety of animals that seemed unbothered by their presence. Rabbits hopped freely, squirrels chased each other around tree trunks, birds sang sweet melodies, and even a wolf lounged in the sunshine.

 

At one end of the pool stood a grassy hill, its emerald green blades swaying in the gentle breeze. There sat the maiden, her long hair cascading down her back as she gazed serenely at the water below. From her seat, water flowed down in a captivating display, filling the pool and adding to its already mesmerizing beauty.

 

"The Adversary is coming," echoed a voice that resonates deep within Wayne's very essence, a whisper in a language that transcended words and yet eluded his conscious understanding. Each syllable vibrated with urgency, an ancient truth that sent shivers down his spine. "His minions already prowl the shadows, sowing seeds of corruption throughout the world. The delicate Balance has been shattered, and darkness spreads like an insidious disease. Look! Storm clouds gather ominously on the horizon, their swirling greys threatening to engulf the sun. You must seek out others like you, those who feel this call within their souls, and join them in a sacred dance. The world needs your light now more than ever; I need you." The air thickened with foreboding as Wayne stood at the precipice of destiny, feeling the weight of purpose settle onto his shoulders like a cloak of inevitability.

 

With a jolt, Wayne awakened from his deep trance, his senses suddenly flooded with awareness. Darkness had enveloped the world outside as night unfurled its velvet cloak, having crept in silently while he remained lost in thought for what felt like hours. In his hand, he clutched a precious scarlet gem with a fierce grip, its surface gleaming like the last embers of a dying fire. This was no ordinary stone; it was a gift from the maiden whose age transcended time itself, a being woven from the fabric of legend and myth. The gem, which she had named Tass, pulsed with an energy that throbbed beneath his fingertips.

 

Wayne understood the weight of this treasure: with it, he could summon miracles and alter fate itself. A heady mix of excitement and trepidation coursed through him at the thought of what lay ahead—both the possibilities and the responsibilities that came with such power.

 

Spoiler

this ends your prologue and the intro stories.  

 

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