Keigh-Tugh-Gua
by Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw
In the time when the memory of the Shawnee, the Fox, the Wyandotte, the Mingo, and other great peoples was still fresh on the land and the echoes of their cries still rang up from their spilt blood on the earth, a presence in the river valleys of the beautiful river now called the Ohio watched and waited. This presence was older than any other in the area of the strange phantom lights and creatures… a presence that always watches and is always hungry. It could be very patient, cunning, and stealthy, or it could strike suddenly when the time was right...
It was a lovely mid-October morning with just the right nippiness in the Pennsylvania air.
“Hey, buddy, you ready for this adventure?” waved John Neville to his just arriving friend. “Looks like you just rolled out of bed without bothering to open your eyes.”
“Just give me a few, a cup of coffee, and I’ll be good to go,” laughed Mark Gallagher as he unloaded supplies and put them in bundles into the almost ready canoe. “We want to be traveling light.”
“Light, yes. Light-headed no,” laughed John.
Mark threw a bundle at him in reply.
The two thirty-ish year old men worked well together. This was not their first river adventure, but it was the first time they would try to canoe all the way from where the Allegheny and Monongahela Rivers met to form the Ohio River to where the Ohio met the Mississippi. Their spirits were high.
“James Kelly said we should have good weather for the first few days but to watch out for the ghost lights.”
“Jim boy would say that, the old fart. He is just afraid we’ll have some fun without him,” laughed Mark. “Ready?”
“Let’s start making waves.”
And so they began their journey down the Ohio through the beautiful foothills of the Appalachian Mountains whose woods were brightly decorated with the many colored leaves of a glorious autumn day. Traveling light meant they would mostly eat what could easily be found or captured along the way and camp out under the stars by night. Both men were in excellent physical condition and were well-experienced trackers. They had neither time limits nor obligations to neither slow nor speed them on their way. This was mostly for pleasure. Of course, if they also happened to track new wildlife or even a new species, so much the better for their budgets and reputations. But, this would be primarily for exploration and fun.
The first few days of their journey went quietly in the slightly warm Indian summer weather. The fall foliage and the just ready to harvest nuts and fruits along the river were a source of joy.
“The sky looks odd this morning,” said John as he stretched and began limbering up his body after awakening. “I guess a cold front is coming in. We might be heading into some storms today.”
“Maybe we can at least make it to the mouth of the Kanawha before the storm hits. There is a nice spot near there we can shelter from anything Mother Nature wants to hand out. We could even set up the tent this time.”
And so they canoed quickly after breakfast and soon found themselves rocking through the increasing white caps on the river. The sky took on a dark hue, and the wind began whispering with slowly increasing volume “Keigh-Tugh-Gua.”
“Hey! What was that? Did you see…” shouted Mark from the back of the canoe.
“Yeah. What was that?” growled a startled John.
“It looked like a big shadow or something.”
”A large moth or flying man with wings? No, it couldn’t be,” John growled again. But, he was shaken.
“Hey, there’s the spot up ahead. Whatever it was, it is gone now. Maybe it was just a large hawk trying to get to shelter before the storm breaks.”
“Yeah. A hawk. A large hawk. Yeah.”
And so, the men canoed to the spot just west of the mouth of the Kanawha River and began setting up a tight camp on the southern bank of the Ohio River. They brought the canoe up beside the tent and made sure everything was securely tied or weighted down. Then they made a small firepit, cooked, and ate. While they were cleaning up, the first huge raindrops fell. So, they retired into the tent and talked, told stories, and then drifted on into a deep sleep while the rain, though strong, was still gentle. What they didn’t see was the purple lightning that came up from the land nearby nor the moth-shaped man’s shadow that sat in the maple tree, watching. The wind continuing singing “Keigh-tugh-Gua” over and over. Then the real storm hit. The men slept on with worsening dreams.
“ARRRrrrrrr!!” a scream pierced the night.
“What was that!” screamed John as he sat bolt upright, scrambling for his boots and the flashlight. “Mark?”
There was no answer.
Shining the flashlight to Mark’s sleeping bag, there was no one there.
“ARrrrrRRRrr!”
“Mark! I’m coming!”
John rushed from the tent into a torrent of rain, big flashes of lightning followed by enormously loud booming thunder. The wind was swirling all around. The trees were frantic in their wild dance. Then he saw Mark walking as if in a trance toward the churning waters of the Ohio River. The trees along the bank seemed to be beckoning wildly and eerily for him to come.
“Mark! Stop!”
“Keigh Tugh Gua!” Crash! Boom!
“Mark!”
“KEIGH TUGH GUA!”
“Mark!”
John finally reached Mark and grabbed him from behind, dragging him back from the river’s edge.
”Mark! What are you doing? Mark?” John looked into the vacant face of his friend.
“MARK!”
“What? Where?” Mark sputtered as he came to. “What in the Hell are we doing out here?” he said with more than a little bewilderment and growing fear.
“Get back to the tent. It’s sheltered. Come on!”
”Keigh-Tugh-Gua!”
The men struggled through the rain, the wind, the mud, and the falling tree limbs back to the tent. Water was gushing everywhere. A pond seemed to be forming in front of the tent, but once inside, the tent and all in it were dry.
“Keigh-Tugh-Gua,” the wind continued to state in differing volumes and tones.
“What were you doing down by the river, Mark? You could have been killed. I could have been killed rescuing you. What were you thinking?” John demanded mostly in fear that came out angrier than he meant.
“I don’t know. I didn’t know I was there until you grabbed me.” Mark answered as if in shock and hen began shaking. “All I remember is dreaming of this horrible massacre and hearing the cries of many strong emotions. I saw an Indian chief bound and killed. His eyes were brave but sad. He was saying something as he died. And, this phrase “keigh-tugh-gua” kept repeating itself over and over again.”
“I never knew you sleepwalked, Mark,” said John shuddering.
”I never thought I did either. Something strange… it’s like this storm is alive…like it made me do it.”
CRASH! BOOM! “Keigh-Tugh-Gua.”
The next lightning strike showed a large moth-shaped shadow against the side of the tent, but by the next flash of light, it was gone. Suddenly, chanting like one would hear at a pow-wow started softly. Then the rattles and a drumbeat began. The only words were keigh-tugh-gua, over and over and over. The volume kept growing. The rhythm kept increasing. The wind howled. The lightning flashed.
BOOM! CRASH!
Then silence.
The rain slowed and stopped. The wind stopped. It was chilly and very dark. The exhausted men who thought they could not sleep slept until the warming morning sun touched their tent. There was chaos in the area surrounding the tent as is natural after a storm, but nothing was too damaged thankfully. And, after breakfast and cleaning up the area and themselves, they continued on their way, happy to be alive.
(C) Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw, 23 October 2006.
