Never Whistle at Night: An Indigenous Dark Fiction Anthology

With the revelation that Marissa, the protagonist of “White Hills,” is Indigenous, her pregnancy takes on new meaning. Elayne, the antagonist, uses deception, privilege, and power to steal Marissa’s body autonomy and force her to have an abortion. These actions stem from racism, as Elayne refuses to have an Indigenous grandchild. When Elayne later asks Marissa to cut off a finger in a symbolic refutation of her Indigenous ancestry, Marissa must decide her own fate: “This is a test. Marissa understands now […] Here is the master setting out the knife. Here is when Marissa must decide what she truly wants, and what she is willing to do to get it” (36). Marissa loves her life in White Hills, enabled by her husband’s wealth. She must decide whether she wants this life, even if it means remaining in a toxic situation and denying her identity. This is a moment in which Marissa can decide for herself, a stark change from earlier in the story. It is a turning point for her character, but the resolution of her arc is ambiguous; she takes the knife and swings it to defend the life she has built for herself, but it is unclear whether she does so by chopping off her finger (and thus capitulating to Elayne’s demands) or by attacking Elayne (and thus asserting her right to be in White Hills as an Indigenous woman).

Joe, the protagonist and narrator of “Navajos Don’t Wear Elk Teeth,” finds himself in conflict with his love interest, Cam. Though Cam is an antagonistic force from the moment they meet, Joe’s attraction to him fosters a relationship until he learns of Cam’s tooth collection. Joe becomes jealous of the tooth collection, and its presence makes him more critical of Cam’s behavior: “I knew I was supposed to be impressed […] but watching him dote over it made me want to pick up a hammer and smash that wooden box into pieces. He treated that fucking thing better than me” (49). It is because of the tooth collection that Joe and Cam’s relationship deteriorates, and Joe’s disdain for it transforms him into a dynamic character. For much of the story, Joe excuses Cam’s erratic and at times violent behavior. Ultimately, however, he distances himself from Cam and advocates for himself, culminating in his final defense of himself against Cam’s plan to rob him of his teeth, which evokes colonialism’s violent and proprietary attitude toward Indigenous peoples.

The protagonist of “Wingless” is a young child in foster care who constantly works to evade the violence of their foster mother. The protagonist lives in the house with another foster child, Punk, who is at times a guide and protector for the protagonist. Punk acts out against their foster mother and at times takes a beating for the protagonist. The protagonist respects Punk and looks up to him, which leads to the protagonist cutting the foster mother’s hand off. This is retaliation against her violence, and Punk approves: “I heard someone say the social worker was coming to get Punk. I remember Punk’s grin and the wink he gave me when I was placed in the police car. The last thing I saw was his thumbs-up wave as they took me away” (65). Punk is proud of the protagonist because the violent act saves both of them from the foster mother. The protagonist is dynamic, going from a character who looks to Punk for protection and guidance to one who is a protector. Overall, their story comments on the plight of Indigenous children, who have often been removed from their communities and raised in hostile colonialist environments.

Amber, the protagonist of “Quantum,” obsesses over the amount of Indigenous ancestry each of her sons has. Her sons have different fathers, and while Gray is on the tribal rolls, Sammy is not (the title refers to the “blood quantum” many Indigenous nations use to determine tribal membership). Because she understands Indigenous identity in terms of genetics and percentages, Amber therefore shuns Sammy and even treats him as a pet rather than a person. Her response to the death of Big John LaBarge, a man she considered the “most” Indigenous, underscores the futility of this perspective: “She knew she ought to say a prayer, to wish him well on his voyage from this realm to the next, but the words wouldn’t come. All she could think about was how valuable he was” (79). Amber’s crisis stems from understanding Indigenous identity solely in terms of the value of blood—a perspective the story associates with colonialism and racism, as it was not how tribes historically operated. However, Amber proves to be a dynamic character, as she eventually realizes that identity is fostered through family and upbringing and commits to raising both Sammy and Gray as Indigenous children.

The Wehtigo is a starving spirit on the hunt in “Hunger” that acts as both the protagonist and point-of-view character. The Wehtigo is a monstrous figure in Indigenous folklore and is likewise framed as a villain in this story; however, its symbolism is updated, as this Wehtigo seeks to hunt and feast on people in a world transformed by colonization and modernization. The loss of stories about the Wehtigo among Indigenous peoples makes for unsuspecting victims, as the Wehtigo believes Summer will be: “In the Before time, a girl would not linger alone at night. Not when the days shortened, and the nights grew cold and long. The People then knew what lurked in the cold empty dark. Summer doesn’t seem to know, though” (89). Though the Wehtigo views itself as predator and Summer as prey, their roles flip when Summer and her cousin banish it with a calm demeanor the Wehtigo finds chilling. This experience is the first in which the Wehtigo is a victim. Despite this experience, the Wehtigo remains static, as it knits itself back together in the sky, ready to hunt again. The implication is that while Summer may have survived her encounter, the Wehtigo is right to view the decline of traditional ways of life as an opportunity to satisfy its appetites; like many stories in the collection, “Wehtigo” explores The Intersection of Tradition and Modernity and concludes that the latter poses a threat to Indigenous survival.

Son is the protagonist of “Tick Talk.” His name foregrounds his familial connections and his status as his community’s future; his arc, correspondingly, centers on the loss of his father while he struggles against a supernatural tick. As the tick grows larger and Son struggles to detach it, he comes to understand the role his father played in his life and how his absence will impact him. He is in a crisis but now has no one to guide him, leading him to acknowledge his father’s influence fully: “There was no old man sitting at the kitchen table listening to the radio, no one to tell him he’d forgotten to get bread, or to remind him which island was named for his great-grandfather. There was no one waiting for him” (107). His father reminded him of what he needed to do daily, but he also reminded him of his cultural history. Without him, Son is increasingly isolated, cut off from his family and all they reminded him to be, and the reappearance of the tick—a symbol of Son’s neglect of history and heritage—implies that this will remain the case for the foreseeable future.

The narrator of “The Ones Who Killed Us” is the collective voice of murdered Indigenous men. These men encounter their killers and feel the pain of history and the past rise up, not least because those killers remain ignorant of the harm they have done: “[T]his was about the past, surely the ones who killed us understood this despite their lack of remorse and lowlife condemnation, despite their brutal killings and thievery, and carrying the dirty innards of chicken and deer and buffalo from our land” (114). The tension builds until the murdered men’s missing women reappear, and together, they attack the killers, delivering justice for past crimes and finding comfort in their killers’ deaths.

Peter, the protagonist of “Snakes Are Born in the Dark,” finds himself on a nightmarish hike with his cousin, Maddie, and her boyfriend, Adam. Adam acts antagonistically, purposefully destroying Indigenous petroglyphs with his car keys to annoy Peter and creating a hostile atmosphere. After Peter and Adam fight, the keys are missing, and the trio has to hike to the car in the dark without them. The hostility between the two men is amplified when Maddie breaks out in sores and Adam gives birth to a rattlesnake. When they are finally rescued, Peter admits to his uncle that he is to blame: “He disrespected our ancestors. […] Come on, Uncle, they’ll be fine and you know it” (138). It is revealed in a plot twist that Peter not only used magic on Maddie and Adam but also took the car keys to necessitate the long, dark hike back to the car. After this moment, Peter becomes a different character, one in control of the night’s events rather than an observer. He makes his values known and unapologetically protects his culture, knowing that Maddie and Adam will be changed by the experience.

Keira, the protagonist of “Before I Go,” spends the story exploring the site of her fiancé’s death: Davey fell into a gorge and died of the wounds he sustained. Her conflicted feelings over moving on from his death draw her to this place and are reflected in the scenery she sees looking over his final resting place: “Keira wondered […] [i]f the day his battered corpse was picked apart by coyotes and vultures the sun was shining and the birds sang merry songs. She hoped not. It would feel too much like a sin for such beauty to be a witness to such horror” (140). Keira struggles to reconcile the beauty of the landscape and atmosphere surrounding her with the tragedy and pain she feels. This disconnect keeps her from moving on from Davey and leads her to invite the Night Mother in. The Night Mother promises her resolution, leading to Keira’s death. However, as Keira dies, she experiences the warmth and security she could not find after Davey’s death.

Cece is the protagonist of “Night in the Chrysalis” and, as the title implies, experiences a transformative if terrifying first night in her new home as she confronts Intergenerational Trauma as the Legacy of Colonization. Cece looks at the house as a fresh start, hoping to move past recent personal tragedies. However, she is haunted by the home’s racist former occupants and nearly transformed into a doll—a stereotype based on the ghost girl’s view of Indigenous people. She resists and defeats the ghosts, waking to peace: “She held her aching fingers to her face and smiled as they began to move. She sat up with a deep and grateful breath in her body, her home. Sunrise creaked through the window with the sound of birds” (157). Cece’s experiences this first night reveal her dynamic nature, as she refuses to be held back by the past. She refuses to be made a static doll or to accede to the home’s colonialist interlopers and wakes to a new life.

Colin is a young boy and the protagonist and narrator of “Behind Colin’s Eyes.” While out hunting with his father, Colin encounters a force that takes possession of him. Now trapped inside his own mind, without the ability to speak, Colin loses his autonomy. Colin trusts his father and feels comforted when his father, who knows something is wrong, explains that they will get Colin's help. The antagonistic spirit, however, has other plans: “[[Your body is mine now, and this time, your family won’t be able to kill me]]” (174). This moment of possession is also one of dispossession as Colin loses control. Though the spirit is never identified, its control over Colin and its intention to isolate him from his family echoes Colin’s father’s rarely mentioned experiences in a residential school. Even though Colin did not experience this directly, the relationship with this spirit reflects the theme of intergenerational trauma.

Joseph, the protagonist and narrator of “Heart-Shaped Clock,” experiences hardship and heartbreak as he finally reunites with his mother and brother as an adult. The reunion is strained due to the legacy of his mother’s neglect: He struggles to foster a relationship with her or his brother or to feel loved. When a robbery at his mother’s convenience store leaves Joseph concussed, his struggle to process his emotions intensifies, leading to Joseph accidentally killing his brother. Afterward, he seeks comfort: “I pulled the bundle tighter, closer against his chest, and leaned over to listen for his heart. Then I pulled off my shoes and stretched my body out alongside my brother on the little twin bed, nothing between us but a beating metal heart” (192). Joseph, who wanted a strong relationship with his brother, uses the clock to bring himself peace, listening to the false heartbeat of his brother. Only in this moment of tragedy can Joseph finally be as close to his brother as he wished.

The narrator of “Scariest. Story. Ever.” visits Uncle Mike to find a story for a contest. However, Mike accuses the narrator of stealing stories for profit: recording stories from elders and then using them in contests. By collecting stories only for his benefit and refusing to disperse the stories to his community, the narrator disrespects the storytelling tradition. Uncle Mike further accuses the narrator of being disingenuous with respect to his plans: “[Y]ou started showing up with your tape recorder. You started recording the Elders and were happy you were getting the stories down but you never brought them back like you said” (211). The narrator proves to be dynamic, however, agreeing to become Uncle Mike's apprentice and to share the stories. The narrator will take on the role of spreading knowledge rather than hoarding it, representing a significant change in his values and underscoring the anthology’s emphasis on the preservation of tradition.

The narrator of “Human Eaters” is a grandmother telling her grandsons, String Bean and No Filter, about the titular monsters, which she says prey on those who forget their traditions and history. The narrator is thus concerned about her grandchildren’s safety because generations of colonization have eroded this ancestral knowledge: “When you live wrong and break your vows, the agreements that our ancestors made for our people to live right, ‘they’ eat away at you. Slowly, they cut away at your flesh and the flesh of your family. Sickness follows those ones around” (224). The narrator further explains that the long-standing relationship between the human eaters and people does not change as the world does, presenting another variation on the intersection of tradition and modernity; the past itself does not die even if remembrance of it does, continuing to shape the present in ways that make that remembrance all the more critical. The narrator speaks with her grandchildren to combat this risk, and to keep them connected to their identity, but the presence of a human eater in the story’s final lines renders her success ambiguous.

Junior, the protagonist of “The Longest Street in the World,” must contend with supernatural forces of justice after experiencing violence. When Louis, a spirit that protects the community, appears with the heads of those who injured Junior, Junior wonders about the nature of existence. In his life, Junior feels unfulfilled: “Johnny Lee Junior cast his angry vision onto the avenue at street level through the thin, watery glass […] where the sadness of living and never being known to anyone for anything of note, of any exterior accomplishment was a thing unto itself” (227). Junior’s curiosity about what Louis, a mythical being, does when he is not helping the community reflects his search for personal meaning and importance. Louis explains that it is others’ belief in him that summons him and that it is through others that he exists. Junior thus gains a sense that people depend on each other and that it is through others that people find meaning.

Amy, the protagonist and narrator of “Dead Owls” is one of the few child protagonists in Never Whistle at Night. At first, Amy’s status as a child shapes how she interacts with others, as she does not advocate for herself or speak up around adults, believing these things to be disrespectful: “I agree silently with my head. Agreeing out loud would be disrespectful. In my world older folks can say any damn thing that takes you apart, but a kid has to swallow the truth until you grow up” (244). However, when Amy is haunted by Libby, she must fight back to survive—to protect herself against an adult who wants to kill her. Not only does she act differently in this moment, but she also finds support from an adult who interacts with her in a new way. The ghost of Hiro saves her from Libby, becoming an adult who lifts her up rather than tears her down, suggesting the power of solidarity in the face of racist/colonialist aggression (Hiro, a Japanese American, was imprisoned in a concentration camp during WWII).

Nelly, the narrator and protagonist of “The Prepper,” becomes obsessed with the zombie apocalypse during a time of poor health. This disconnect from reality leads him to kill his own grandfather, afraid that he will come back as a zombie, and distorts his emotional response to his actions: “He lay there, dead, not coming back, not suffering, and I felt no sadness. Only relief. Happiness even. And then that happiness turned to fright, not at what I had done but what I thought was now coming” (269). Nelly’s fears of a zombie apocalypse cause him to find relief rather than sadness in his grandfather’s death, but his obsession stems from his feelings of isolation. He craves a world that makes sense and in which he fits. Eventually, he believes that while he may have been unwell, the world itself is unwell.

Robert and Gregory are the two primary characters in the story “Uncle Robert Rides the Lightning.” They are uncle and nephew, only a year apart, and are best friends while alive. In death, however, they find themselves disconnected, though their personalities become amplified. Robert, passionate and adventurous, searches for fun and his murderer in the bars of the afterlife: “Every night, he hunts the man who’s wearing his boots, and when he finds him, he’ll take a seat […] He’ll let them surface, then push them back under, give them a knife wound that the coroner ignores” (280). Gregory is his foil, waiting to find Robert and be reunited: “But Gregory is patient. And there’s lots to explore. There are no arrowheads, except for Sagittarius, but he comes across lost souls and helps them find their way to […] Wherever they’re supposed to go” (281). Where Robert focuses on revenge, Gregory exhibits compassion for other lost souls, their contrasting personas working against any efforts to find each other.

In “Sundays,” the protagonist and narrator, Thomas Bear Nose, seeks revenge against his former abuser, the antagonistic Father R. As a child, Father R sexually abused Thomas and other students at a residential school. To heal from this trauma, Thomas finds Father R, bent on revenge until a memory of his wife convinces him to take an alternate route: “But I realized she was telling me I needed to let go of my anger and shame. The feelings of worthlessness and self-loathing I’d carried for so long. I didn’t know if I could forgive Father Raubvogel, but perhaps I could forgive myself” (303). Thomas’s reassessment of his needs makes him a dynamic character. He comes to realize that healing does not require revenge but rather looking inward and letting go of his shame. He leaves Father R’s home with this new attitude, seeking a new future away from the trauma.

Della, the protagonist and narrator of “Eulogy for a Brother, Resurrected,” feels overwhelming pain and loss in the aftermath of her brother Callum’s murder. When she convinces her Auntie Ina to help her resurrect Callum, she experiences a change, as new purpose combats feelings of helplessness brought on by tragedy: “My body feels far away now, but it is not despair that has pushed hunger away this time. It is not that I am losing myself. I am pouring myself into something better. It is not fog that blinds me. It is light” (315). Della uses her time and energy to bring Callum back, molding him out of river mud and using herself as fuel. Her feelings of “pouring” herself into this new Callum foreshadows the climax of these efforts: Della eventually pours her blood into the mud-Callum to resurrect him. This connects them, and the “something better” she feels herself working toward becomes the new, united Callum and Della. She thus transforms into a new person herself, with a new understanding of the world, her arc supporting the idea that the preservation of traditional knowledge can lead to personal and cultural renewal.

In “Night Moves,” the protagonist Walt and his fellow soldiers in Germany encounter and fight a werewolf. Walt volunteers to serve in Germany to escape the violence and killing of the Vietnam War but finds himself embroiled in both. When Walt kills the werewolf, the beast reverts to its form as a man, and Walt feels the horror of his actions rise within him: “But he had definitely been all hair and teeth and blood moments earlier, a wolf that had bitten deep into Walt’s flesh. You never forget your first kill, they say. Walt knew then that his first kill would curse the rest of his life” (326). Walt kills the beast in self-defense, and yet the revelation that it is a man pushes him to consider the violence: He feels as though the legacy of this moment will follow him for the rest of his life. As the hostility of Walt’s racist fellow soldier sparks the encounter with the werewolf, Walt’s story highlights how Indigenous Americans pay the price for white colonialist aggression, whether at home or overseas.

Tom, the protagonist and narrator of “Capgras,” is haunted by feelings of dual identities and competing realities. As he sits through interview after interview during his French book tour, he finds the book’s translation presenting a different novel from the one he wrote. Meanwhile, as the lump on his back grows more painful, he begins to have memories that he is unsure correspond to real events in his life. Concerned that he will transform into someone else, he contemplates trying to recover his old self: “I would stop drinking and return home to the body inside my body, the one that I had abandoned and made myself carry. Or the Kokopelli would become me. And I would lose my name and body on the streets of Paris” (346). Tom fears losing himself, particularly to an identity constructed by others, in much the same way that the inaccurate translation has created a new story that people now ascribe to him. His story highlights the difficulty Indigenous Americans experience in telling their own stories, distinct not only from the narratives and stereotypes that have been imposed on them but also from the changes wrought by forced assimilation (notably, the translation reworks Tom’s novel as a Christian parable).

In “The Scientist’s Horror Story,” Bets, the protagonist, shares a story grounded in the horrors of reality. Bets’s research project is meant to help a small Indigenous community, so the rejection of her application of her grant application reflects prejudiced sentiments regarding the value of Indigenous communities. Bets likens this experience to watching a bad horror movie in which characters make frustratingly obvious bad decisions: “Hence the reason I don’t watch B-horror movies anymore, […] That feeling of helplessness—it’s seductive, but it isn’t true. We can be heard. We can make change. We have a future. Our children have futures. Right?” (365). Bets tries to reject her feelings of helplessness, telling herself that individuals and communities can make change. However, she feels pressure from the forces working against her and her work. In giving voice to the existential dread brought on by climate change and adversarial political forces, she reflects generations of Indigenous experience and efforts to resist the destructive forces of colonization.

In “Collections,” Megis Cloud, the protagonist and narrator, is horrified to see human heads preserved at the home of her professor. This professor, Professor Smith, corners Megis and says she will use her privilege and power to help Megis begin her writing career. Professor Smith explains that she does this for marginalized students on the condition that they leave their heads to her. At first, Megis is horrified by this predatory situation but soon becomes fascinated by the opportunity: “There was nothing more that I wanted in the world. I hadn’t even realized until that moment, until she dared me to dream” (381). Megis realizes that she wants the fame and prominence Professor Smith offers. Smith, confident in her abilities to persuade, pushes Megis, offering to be a mentor and friend and manipulating Megis’s insecurities. Professor Smith preys on Megis, their dynamic suggesting how Indigenous or otherwise marginalized people may compromise themselves in attempting to access institutional power.