Imagine listening to the words from the following storyteller. Let the story build to its conclusions with the use of suspenseful repetitions and differing pace, like the following from Birdy Burdick (Turtle Clan).

This is a true story and it's kind of startling. It was told to me by someone who grew up on Marble Hill. There were people living on the Territory, the Thirty-Two Acres, and they had a child and there was something wrong with him. One of his legs was numb and he dragged his leg when he walked. He died while he was still a child. There was a little church on Marble Hill and the people on the Territory asked the people on Marble Hill if they could have a service for this little boy because they didn't have a church over there. So they said yes. There was a path that went from the Thirty-Two Acres to Marble Hill. At that time, there was a main road on Marble Hill and then a path that went back into the woods and that's where the lady who told me this story lived when she was a child. She was about eight years old when this happened, I think. They had the church services for this little boy and afterwards, after the service, they went over to the house over in the woods and they ate. In fact, they had a lot of food there and everyone was welcome. The girl was in the house and there was a window in the living room. She said that she was looking out the window and she thought she saw that little boy and he was going over to the pathway, back over to the Thirty-Two Acres. He was dragging his leg. She thought, "Oh, I don't want to tell anybody because no one will believe me." She went to get her sister, and she told her sister about it, and she said, "Please don't tell anybody." Well, they went and they looked together and they both saw him. At this time, there were some people coming from the Onondaga Reservation to the church services and the wheel fell off their wagon so they were delayed. Finally they fixed it. They were late, but they thought they would come to eat. As they drove by the Thirty-Two Acres, there was a stone fence there. The lady said she saw a little crippled boy dragging his leg and he would get up on the fence and walk on the fence, the stone fence, and then he'd get down. She said, "Isn't that little boy the one whose funeral we're going to?" Her husband said, "No, no that can't be." Then they didn't see him any more and they continued coming over to the house for the meal. When they got there, they told their story and that's when the girls told everyone else. That was told to me and I kept it in the back of my mind. When I first started working for the Nation four years ago, I worked with the children. One day we were all goofing around, cooking at the cookhouse and it was around Halloween time. I asked one of the girls if she knew any stories. She said, "Well, a funny thing happened here to me. We were all out one night on the Territory here and it was quite late. It was really weird but underneath the street light we could see this little crippled boy and he was dragging his leg. Isn't that strange?" I said, "Really," and then the story came back that I had been told and it was so many years but when a story is told to you, you remember.