Journey

A Cree Tale

AUTHOR JAKE AARON

Dedicated,
To the survivors of abuse and
those who struggle with
addiction and the mental
health.

This short story is full of run on,

fragmented sentences. The grammar
is poor.

Is this a fictional story?

The Early Years

Mom and pa were especially drunk

and angry today, pa hit her many
times. It was about missing money
and no booze...it was always about
missing money and no booze.

This time was different, dad dragged

mom out of the house by the hair
yelling he was going to kill her,

Sheryl tried to intervene, but he over

powered her easily. I watched and
wailed for pa to stop hitting her.....
He did not listen. The fire in his eyes
glowed brighter than the porch light;
his snarl was that of a starving wolf
late in a cold winter.

1
Mom wasn’t fighting back anymore
she just laying bleeding and moaning
in the snow...slowing scratching her
way to the fire with the thought
maybe the fire gods would help her.
She was always talking to one
elemental god or another.

I could see pa digging around in the

trunk of an old car that was left
abandoned some years earlier, he
was getting mad again, slamming and
throwing things around...He suddenly
grew quiet and a large grin appeared
on his now dirty face....he found what
he was looking for.

Pa starting slowly lumbering toward

the fire where mom was laying, she
was just mumbling now. He had a red
gas can in one hand and small axe in
the other. 2
Sheryl grabbed me by the hand and
we started to run to the road, I didn’t
know where we were going and
neither did she, we just ran down a
poorly lit road which seemed to be
never ending.

I could not take one more step, my

body was numb, and my fingers felt
like they were burning...Sheryl said
it’s ok if just stop and close our eyes
for a moment.

We were startled by the bright lights

and then sound of a motor, there was
this bearded white man with the
panic look in his eyes shouting “Wake
up wake up, for gods sakes wake up”.

3
I remember being carried into the
back of an awaiting police car. There
were more people gathering now as
standers by were giving us their coats
and rubbing our feet and hands. Off
in the distance I could hear
sirens.....so tired...just going to sleep
for a bit.

4
Sheryl

Sheryl was
around 14 when she first took to the
streets selling herself and doing
drugs. I understand why she did it;
she was trying to make the pain go
away. The drugs helped her escape
the abuse she endured with the
Pavluks. 4
She looked after me for quite some
time; we stayed in homeless camps
and shelters during the winter.

This one shelter in particular let her

sell herself inside the shelter to
employees and their friends; in turn
we could stay all hours of the day.
She also got to use drugs there and
sleep without the fear of being
beaten or robbed in our sleep. There
was a local church that had an
overnight shelter, but Sheryl said that
was a bad place and we had to stay
away from there.

The Pavluks used to take us there for

Sunday school but there was no
teaching...just grooming me for
church services and how to please
guests of the preacher...

5
It didn’t take long before we had
worn out are welcome at the shelter,
Sheryl had met an older man named
Dan with a trailer just outside of
town.

We moved in with Dan, Sheryl stayed

with him and I got my own room,
which was great. We had several
months of peace staying in that
trailer....That would end abruptly.

I awoke to the sound of Sheryl

vomiting uncontrollably, I was scared
I didn’t know what was going on, I
called Dan and we rushed her to the
hospital. When we arrived at the
hospital we weren’t getting any help
from the nurses one commented

6
“Just another drunk chug, we have
BETTER things to do then look after
that”...they didn’t think she was a
person...just another drunk high
Indian.

After some time and the crying from

my sister, a doctor finally agreed to
look at her. Hours seemed like days
hanging out in that waiting
room....Just one casualty after
another. They didn’t tell me much
only that Sheryl would be spending
the night...I wasn’t going anywhere I
was gonna spend the night too.

Sheryl had to go into emergency

surgery later that night, she had a
small baby dead inside her. The
police and social services were
called....Dan was nowhere to be
found. 7
The Pavluks

Larry Pavluk was an average clean cut

European man with an accent; he had

7
Immigrated to Canada when he was a
child. He had an abusive father who
beat him and his mother for as long
as he could remember. After Larry
finished high school he joined the
northern police. Immediately after his
training was complete he was
stationed in Buffalo River where he
would meet his future wife Denise.

Denise Smith (Pavluk) was a tall

attractive white woman who was
born and raised in Edmonton. When
she graduated from police training
she was stationed in Buffalo River
where she met future husband Larry.

They were your typical white

northern couple.

8
They owned a house on a quiet street
(Blueberry Lane) had a dog, attended
church and through weekly parties
for friends and colleagues.

They were true weekend warriors,

alcohol fueled outings and swinger
parties were very common with these
two. Then things changed and money
got tight.

An acquaintance had told then

there’s lots of money in fostering
children...Native children.

He explained to them that no one

checks up on you when you house
Native kids, because there just happy
they don’t have to deal with
them...and there’s money to be made
in “other things”

9
It took quite awhile before the
Pavluks would foster children. As fate
would have it they found just what
they were looking for on the side of
the road one freezing winter evening.

Time to go
Sheryl said we have to go. It was a
warm summer night when she
awakened me with a frenzied look in
her eye. She said “grab your bag and
some stuff were leaving”.

We started walking down Blueberry

lane for quite a long-time before we
reached the highway.

10
Once we reached the highway we set
up camp in a truck brake check pull
out. Sheryl said we were “gonna hitch
a ride to Edmonton”. The plan was is
that I hide whenever a vehicle comes
by, and Sheryl gets drivers to stop to
pick us up.

It didn’t take long before we were

picked up by a truck driver. He was a
skinny older man with bad teeth and
always had a smoke going. We drove
for a bit, and then he pulled over for
and said “no one rides for free”.
Sheryl gave me a book and sat
outside the truck and read for awhile.
I remember it being really hot out
and the bees were especially nasty.

11
When we first arrived in Edmonton
the truck driver took us straight to
the homeless shelter and that’s
where things went from bad to
worse.

Sheryl had met some other native

girls at the shelter who told her how
much money she could make on the
streets and they would give her the
best locations of where to meet these
“hot white rich guys”.

It didn’t take long before Sheryl came

back with a bloody nose and black
eyes...in fact it was almost daily.

I could see a change in her, she no

longer cared or looked out for me,
she just starred off in the distance.

12
I caught her using a needle one
afternoon outside in the park...she
was so out of it she didn’t realize she
was naked from the waist down and
was bleeding. The security at the
homeless shelter called an
ambulance and we were off to the
hospital again.

Social services met us at the

hospital....

13

Social Services
Social services sent me to Calgary to
live with a foster family; they were a
very nice Asian couple who treated
me like a human being, for the first
time in my life I was referred to as a
person and not an animal.

The Chan’s encouraged me in school

and helped me learn about my
indigenous ancestry. I flourished with
them, I finished high school and took
a part time job as a mechanic at little
garage called jimmy’s. lil jimmy was a
good boss and friend he would let me
take the shop truck from time to
time.

Sheryl was not so lucky. She was

placed in a group home...

14
Well several group homes.

She kept running away. Sheryl had

overdosed more times than I can
count...she was getting the help she
needed.

I remember the day when the

counsellors came to visit. It was a
crispy fall afternoon. The ladies
informed me Sheryl was dead.

She had taken her own life. They told

me she drown in the river.

14

I knew why she did it. She was too

broken. The Pavluks had done this...
they were gonna pay for it with their
lives. I made up my mind and took lil
jimmy’s truck...And I went to Buffalo
River.

15
Back Home

As I leave the gun store I suddenly

found myself with profound self
satisfaction, almost as if I’ve been
freed, I was no longer scared. The
inner wolf was howling and my prey
was in sight.

The sun is just going down on this

freezing winter evening, the cold was
cutting through my hooded winter
jacket, little bits of ice had started
forming around my scarf, and my
jeans were stiff and crunched along
with every step I took in the snow.

16

The street lights seemed more like

spot lights as I slumber down
blueberry lane.
Gripping my 12 gauge pump shotgun
with one hand, keeping my balance
with the other. The ruts in the snow
are making it difficult to walk a
straight line I have to keep changing
directions to avoid slipping.

Honk...Splash (car drives past) Fuck I

just about walked in front of that
car...got to keep focused...there
gonna pay for what they did to me
and my sister.

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I can see lil jimmies truck just
ahead…Time to prepare.
First I head to the general store I need
4 jerry cans, I’m gonna fill them with
gas and place gas soaked socks in the
spout...carefully I’m going to position
them in front of each door opening
with the spouts facing the door. (that
way when I light them the flames they
will be directed at the door opening’s
and if anyone opens the door a fireball
will shoot out at them.(the doors
swing inward…I checked)

I’m all loaded up and ready to go! Got

to keep focused
I have to follow through. This is for
Sheryl.

18
God dam its cold out here, I can’t start
the truck it’s too loud…it’s only 10
p.m.
The Pavluks don’t go to bed till
midnight...mines well go to the pub
for coffee.

Same old drunks in this stink hole,

same old racist comments, same old
hag never wanting to serve me...little
do they know what I’m about to
do….little do they know I’m not ever
coming back!

1230 pm, I m starting my journey to

which there’s no coming back.
It’s colder out now and the wolf in me
has once again awakened.

19
I parked about a half a block away,
I’m gonna have to make two trips
with the jerry cans.
The lights have been out for an hour
or so now, time to start strategically
places the gas cans at all the door
openings.

Dam this snow is noisy; just have to

move slowly…
20
That’s it that’s the last can placed, I
now am loading my shot gun in
preparation for a gun battle, after all
they were trained law enforcement
officers and there was two of them.
The fire will definitely give me the
upper hand.
I warmed up my lighter in my hands,
and prepared my pop bottle full of
gas.
(To use to douse the socks in the gas
can spouts).
As I inhale the crisp winter air I make
my way to house...heart is pounding
now, it’s so loud its ringing in my
ears.
First one I light I will be super
quiet...until it gets going.

21
POOOOF!

The first can starts off like a blow

torch, quickly I run around the
entrances lighting the gas cans as I go,
POOOF, POOF….. BANG!
The sound of the flames torching the
house. Snapping and popping...the
sounds of the fire eating its way
indoors...the air sucking and blowing
as if a dragon was powering the fire.

22
There’s movement in the house now, I
can hear the Pavluks yelling and
scrambling, tripping into furniture and
knocking things over.
I am hiding behind the pine tree on
the left side of the house, gun loaded
and ready to fire.
I was a good place to cut down the
Pavluks as they come out, I could see
two of the most likely entrances
they’d come out.

Larry comes barreling out the front

door tripping over the fully engulfed
gas can , spreading fire everywhere
including on him. I laid the bead right
smack dab in middle of his flaming
chest...Boom the sound of the 12
gauge rang through the air...

23
Larry’s body was almost cut in two
with the power of the blast.

That triple odd buck ammunition was

the right call for this job.

I heard a whistle...then a crack...felt

burning in my arm.
Denise had appeared from the side of
the house with her service weapon in
hand, firing randomly, choking and
gasping for air.
I quickly pumped another round of
triple odd buck in the chamber and let
it fly. Tearing off her left arm at the
shoulder, I quickly reloaded and let
another one off, this time she was
down. Her body twitched and shook,
she made gargling sounds as I
watched the life slowly drain out of
her on the now blood soaked lawn.
24
The thought of the last thing she saw
was my grinning face made me warm
inside.
Aah starting to feel light headed now,
gotta go finish Larry before I pass out.
I have something special for Larry, I
m going to hit him in the head with
my little axe.
He wasn’t moving much when I
approached him, but he was
breathing, I could see his chest
moving a bit...well what was left of
his split torso.
Crack! Like the sound of a tree branch
breaking was the sound of my axe
penetrating his skull!
It was over….done……I had fulfilled
my oath to Sheryl
I could sleep now…Just going to slip
away in the warmth of the fire in front
me.
25
The crackling of the fire was soothing, I could
see Sheryl she was a gesturing me to come to
her...

26
About the Author,

Jake Aaron is a Métis Canadian Author and

Broadcast journalist from British Columbia, who
has a passion for telling fictional indigenous
stories and Broadcasting. Contact
jakeaaron.radio@gmail.com for more stories.

“It didn’t take long before Sheryl

came back with a bloody nose and
black eyes...in fact it was almost
daily.”
Date printed January 25/2021 copyright ©2021