Oklahoma. The 46th state was both Oklahoma Territory and Indian Territory prior to statehood. The area that made up present-day Oklahoma was originally Indian Territory. In fact, Indian Territory was much larger than present-day Oklahoma, however, throughout the 19th century American settlers and the federal government had cut away much of its land into the form that is seen today.

By 1890, the Oklahoma Organic Act was passed, converting parts of Indian Territory into Oklahoma Territory. American settlers began inhabiting the area, some sooner than others. Indian Territory at the time was already distrusting of the American settlers. To see the Americans make use of his "sold" land made him quite upset. Little did he know of his new neighbor who'll change his future.

☆☆☆☆☆

Long ago, there was a young boy born from tears. Drenched in blood from the sores of sorrowful men, women, and children, he was simply given the name Red.

He was bathed in the nearby river. All the blood was removed, revealing a normal-looking boy of Native American heritage. His caregivers were many Native American tribes who all loved the boy dearly. No one questioned where the boy's parents were, or why he remained young throughout the years of his existence. They simply saw him as a gift from the spirits of the land. Someone who would look over them after everything they had went through.

As beloved as he was, Red was miserable in a sense. He recalled the first time he met his people, most of them distraught and heartbroken, sickened and tired as though they walked for days without rest. Most of them were from the East from what he heard. They were forced on foot to his home by the people whose skin was as pale as the frigid snow. The ones who drove them here were known by many names. White man, Americans, murderers, there were many names. However, Red knew them by one name only: enemy.

His people were the victims of conquest. Their native homes were threatened by the Americans who drove them into violence and bloodshed. Even when they tried to negotiate on a truce, most found themselves lying still under smelly blankets sent as a peace offering by those cursed Americans. The bravest warriors tried with all their might to defend their homes, only to be pushed away by muskets and steel swords stronger than wooden spears and flimsy arrows. Faced with the possibility of annihilation, the chiefs succumb to the White man. As punishment for defending their homes, the White man sent them far away, forcing them and their families westward into a designated haven that was Red's home. In reality, it was a prison.

A place for the unwanted. A place distinct to his people. A place no one asked to be. This section of land was given a name of foreign origins: Indian Territory. That was the place Red represented. He hated it, but he grew to accept it — like most of the Native Americans. They should be thankful for this so-called generosity. They should be fortunate they were allowed to live in peace. They should be grateful not to face anymore bloodshed. It was laughable, yet the White man were the only ones laughing.

Red lived with his people, feeding off their thoughts and emotions. He listened to their voices, remembering them in his head. Their anger, their sorrows, their fears, he was constantly influenced by their presence. Such turbulent emotions developed a cancer known as "hate" close to his heart. His cancer was thanks to the White man. They were cruel, unreasonable, and despicable. They were no longer human, but monsters in Red's eyes. They were his enemy; a cancer that'll one day wipe his people off the Earth if he wasn't careful. As such, he was extremely protective of his people, especially against the White man.

In the passing days and years of his long life, Red watched the outside world change from a distance. He watched as the White man migrate westward, destroying trees, building homes, and make the land as ugly as possible. It was atrocious.

'The White man is greedy,' Red noticed with loathing.

Indeed, the White man was greedy for the humble home they gave Red and his people was too large in their opinion. The White man assumed the Indians weren't using the land to its full potential. They tried to bargain with the Indians. In exchange for land, they'll get government payments in the form of supplies. No matter how loudly Red and the Indians protest against such deals, the Whites, again, ignored their complaints. Whatever they want, they'll get what they want.

Consequently, Red's home grew smaller with every excuse the White man came up. Red was furious. He wanted to stop them. He wanted to wage war against them. Sadly, he couldn't. He couldn't do anything. Even if he were to gather as many weapons and as many men as he could gather, they would surely lose. Even with the slightest chance on winning, many lives would be lost. And his people, after everything they had been through, weren't willing to go through that experience. Not again... 

With a bitter heart, Red did nothing. He could only watch as more White men migrate around his home, taking up more land for themselves without considering the thoughts of their red neighbors. 

Some of Red's people didn't like living in Red's home, at least not in its current state. Despite fears of persecution, some of the Indians attempted to join hands with the Americans. They wanted to go eastward to where their former home once flourished. If it meant fitting in and following their ways, they were willing to sacrifice what made them red.

Red disagreed with what they were doing. He knew being like them wasn't the same as being them. Nothing good would come out of adopting their ways. He knew they wouldn't really be accepted. They would stick out like a mole, pinched off if deemed a nuisance. Yet, Red could only watch these people head "home". Some would return upset with the news of their home being either a cotton farm or a bumpkin town. The quiet forests they expected to see were reduced to little or nothing.

Then, there were others who came back only to visit their family and friends. They were clean. Their ebony black hair wouldn't be long; cut into a short, more American style. Their pants would be made out of cheap denim, their white shirts would cover the skin of their bare, red chest. Their native tongue was slightly rusty; sometimes they'll speak English words that confuse the others. All of them were changed men. Their culture sentenced to a cruel punishment, withered down into a husk of its former self. No matter how many times they told him they were the same person before they left, Red could only shake his head in disgust.

With what's left of Red's home, he, again, watched everything surrounding him change. Recently, the "boomers" had begun taking parts of his home. Surprisingly, the American government found the move illegal and sent them away. However, those men foreshadowed the eventual invasion of settlers into Red's home. He was wary of his future. Indeed, he should be.

Just when he thought his home couldn't get any smaller, a stranger appeared before him. Before the high rise of the sun, a wind rustled through the white oaks on that sunny day in the warm spring of 1890. Soon after, a boy around Red's age stepped foot into his home.

"Hello!" greeted the boy who looked similar to Red only his face was more optimistic as a result of his youth. "I'm Oak. I'm Oklahoma Territory."

Of course, Red wasn't too pleased to see Oak. Recently, he learned a part of his home was to be distributed to the White man who came "sooner" than expected. Having watched and learned the White man for years, he wasn't pleased to see Oak in the slightest.

Red narrowed his eyes. "You should not exist!"

Oak flinched by the bitterness of his neighbor's tone. "Sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

"That was my home! Only I have the right to control it!"

"But the federal government said-"

"Screw the federal government!" shouted Red. "I am going to tell them to give the land back to my people." He stomped off.

Oak watched him go away, slowly waving him good-bye. "Okay. Good-bye then. I wish you luck on your mission," he quietly said.

True to his word, Red and his representatives went to Washington D.C. to complain about the Sooners. The meeting didn't turn out well.

A woman with dark skin named Winifred Washington read from a sheet of paper, "The Organic Act of 1890 states the Oklahoma-"

"I don't care about that!" Red interrupted. "Half my home should belong to me! Only I have the authority to use that land!"

She patiently looked to Red with a tinge of annoyance in her midnight blue eyes. "I'm afraid it'll be difficult to reverse the act. Even if it did succeed, it would be difficult to compensate these people already living in Oklahoma Territory. Nor do I think they're willing to leave the land without shedding some blood first."

He smashed his hands on her desk. "What about my people? How do I know you and the White man would not lay claim to my land?"

Her face didn't react in the slightest. "You could become a state."

Of course, Red hadn't thought about statehood. His American neighbors represent states with their own people and their own leadership. They were considered equal among each other, respected with rights the federal government couldn't intrude on. Having lived outside American society, Red never considered himself "American". He assumed American and White to be the same thing. So, when Winifred suggested the possibility of becoming a state, he basically interpreted the phrase as, "You could become White."

Immediately, Red stood up and walked away, shaking his head angrily. "I refuse!" he growled.

Winifred sighed. "Then, I'm afraid there's nothing else I could do for you."

Having accomplished nothing, Red left the American capital and headed home, feeling the cancer in his heart grow another centimeter. He and his people were now forced to exist alongside the White man who now occupy half their home. To make matters worse, there was the problem with Oak. He was an annoying boy who often visited Red's home without invitation. Unfortunately for Oak, the personification of Oklahoma Territory where the White man lived, his neighbor wasn't at all friendly to him. Red mostly saw Oak as "target practice".

"Hey, neighbor! I brought you some pecan pie and- AAaaHh!" Oak screamed as a foot-long arrow swept over his head, missing him by a few inches.

"Get out! You're trespassing on my property!" Red called from behind the trees.

A nervous Oak nodded. "S-Sorry! I'll send you a telephone telling you when I'm visiting."

"I don't have a telephone!"

"Well, what about a letter?"

"I don't have a mailbox! Nor do I trust the mailman!"

"How about a carrier pigeon?"

"I'll kill it and eat it for breakfast."

"Then... I-I'll think of something. I'll just leave this pie on your doorsteps before I go." Oak cautiously placed the pie on the doorsteps of Red's cabin. "O-Okay. Have a good day. Bye now." Oak ran off before Red got another arrow ready.

"Don't ever come back!" Red yelled at his back.

Much to Red's dismay, Oak kept coming back. Every other day, Oak would bring various cooked goods to his neighbor's house. Red ended up throwing these foods away, giving them to the ants and raccoons instead. Despite being shot at constantly, Oak insisted on bringing food to Red's door. Many times, Red had thought on hurting Oak, injuring him in the leg, the arm, the shoulder, anywhere that wouldn't necessarily kill him. He wanted to cause some kind of harm that'll make the fiend fear him as to never come to his home.

Yet, he didn't. He purposely missed Oak by a few inches, giving the poor boy a fright before watching him sprint over the hills. Once he was sure he was gone, he climbed down from the trees. and looked at the food Oak left for him. One day, it was a pecan pie, warm and golden brown like it was baked in sunlight, glistening in brown sugar and caramelized pecans. Another day, it was sweet and tangy barbecue pork that was smoked since early morning. The next day after that, it was warm biscuits, golden like the fresh honey it was served with. All such foods were given to Red for free.

But Red didn't want such gifts. No matter how appetizing these foods look, no matter how good they smelled, he refused to ever eat them. They belonged to the White man. They could be filled with disease like the blankets they once gave out. He assumed Oak would try to kill him. and take over his home when he wasn't careful. That was Red's reason for refusing such gifts.

While he let the ants and raccoons eat such wonderful gifts, Red would watch to see if they died from whatever poison was in the food. Each time, he expected them to vomit up blood or writhe in agony. Instead, all he found here fat raccoons and ant hills full of biscuit crumbs. Despite being proven wrong each time, he continued to leave such gifts out for the animals to eat.

That is until one day, a normal day in the late fall, Oak brought Red another dish he cooked up.

"Happy Thanksgiving, neighbor!" Oak greeted him with a kind smile as usual.

Rather than curse at him like most days, Red answered him with a question. "What's so happy about Thanksgiving?"

Oak found his question unusual for he was used to Red calling him names. "I beg your pardon? Could you repeat that?"

He rolled his eyes. "What's so happy about Thanksgiving?"

"Well, it's a time to be grateful for the things you have."

Red snickered at his answer.

"What is it? Why are you laughing?"

"You must be quite happy with the things you have."

"Yeah. And?"

Red gritted his teeth. "The land you live on was once mine, you know."

"I'm well aware."

Red clenched his jaw. "If you think giving me food would earn my friendship, you're mistaken! I hate you! I have no intention on ever befriending you!"

Oak looked down on the ground with a scowl on his face. "... I thought we could be friends," he mumbled before looking up at the trees with a determined look on his face. "I've come here numerous time. I respected your boundaries. I have no intention on harming or offending you. Despite my generosity and kindness, you always attack me with your arrows from behind the trees... Why do you hide in the trees? If you want me to leave, say it to my face. If you do, I'll never come here ever again."

Red was caught off guard by Oak's question. Not an honest answer or a lie came to mind. He could easily come down from the tree, and sternly tell Oak off to never come to his home ever again. Yet, his feet remain planted to the sturdy branches of the tree he was perched on. He didn't even had the courage to voice an answer.

Seeing no sign of Red nor a retort from the trees, Oak simply gave off a sigh. "You know. The first Thanksgiving involved the Pilgrims and the Wampanoag tribe," he told him. "The two groups were different in concern to their beliefs and cultural values. Both were known to distrust one another. But the moment the first stalks of corn were grown, they decided to share the food they had. They celebrated together, appreciating what they were given and the bond they had with their friends and family. It's amazing how such differences are overshadowed by a common emotion."

Oak set the pan on Red's footsteps. He was about to walk away when he heard Red speak from the trees.

"Those people back then. They were different, yet they were able to share their food. Why can't the White man now do that?"

He stared up at the tree, basking in the warm sunlight that hit his face. "I honestly don't know..." he sadly uttered. "Maybe if people began to open up more, maybe there'll be more Thanksgivings like the ones back in the old days." He softly smiled to himself. "I'll be celebrating Thanksgiving at the capital. Want to join me?"

"... No thanks."

Much to Red's puzzlement, he heard a small giggle come out of Oak. "Okay. I'll leave you be. Bye now."

He walked away.

A couple of minutes after Oak left, Red came down from the tree. He went over to the steps of his cabin, and picked up the pan. He opened the lid to discover bricks of cornbread with sausage and gravy in a separate closed container. Rather than let the raccoons have another satisfying meal, he took the pan with him as he went inside his home.

Setting himself down at the table, Red proceeded to taste the food. He took a small bite out of the cornbread. He ate a scoop of sausage and gravy. He allowed the food to stay in his mouth a little longer than normal before swallowing. After his first gulp, he took a second bite of cornbread. This time it was a much larger bite. On his fourth bite, he began to dip chunks of the cornbread into the gravy before plopping them into his mouth. He continued to eat with speed, wasting not a single crumb or drop of gravy behind. In less than ten minutes, the entire pan was empty.

Red wasn't smiling. He sat at the table for a long time, staring down on the empty, beige pan. A few tears fell from his dark brown eyes. He didn't bother to wipe them away. His chest suddenly became heavy. He kept telling himself the pain was from the cancer, but it really wasn't. The cause came from somewhere else, but he refused to believe it existed. He tried to ignore it, but he couldn't shake it off. It was...too much.

He ended up cleaning the pan afterwards.

~

Many days later, Oak came back to Red's house as usual. He brought another pecan pie with him. Before he reached the steps of the cabin, Oak stopped in his tracks with a stupefied look on his face.

Out in the open, Red was sitting on the steps of his cabin. In his hands was a washed pan. He was staring down on the ground when he heard footsteps. He looked up, and saw Oak standing in front of him. His shocked stare made him nervous. He had to look away for a second before standing up to greet him properly.

"Thank you for the food," he muttered in an awkward, yet genuine manner. "It was...delicious..." he added before giving him back the pan.

Oak softly smiled. "Thank you." He exchanged the pan with the pecan pie.

Having been through this many times, Oak was about to leave Red's sight. However, he heard Red's voice and quickly turned around, slightly afraid he upset him.

"I... I would..." Red was reluctant to say it, but he somehow managed to get his words out. "... I would like to give you something."

Oak gave him a perplexed look. "Okay..."

"But... I don't... I-I don't know how to cook." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Not like you..."

Oak softly smiled. "That's alright. It doesn't have to be food."

"Then, what do you want?"

"How about something you like to make?" he suggested.

He nodded. "Okay."

He nodded back. "Okay. I'll see you later then. Bye now." He walked away.

"Bye..." Red quietly stood as he watched his neighbor leave his home.

The young boy would ponder over his gift to Oak for a long time. He wasn't sure what to make for him. Obviously, cooking is out the window. But other than cooking, he didn't know much about Oak. He certainly wouldn't want a bow and arrow. He thought about making a basket, however, he knew such a gift wouldn't be all that impressive. He wanted to impress Oak the way his food did for him. For a long time, Red would think about the kinds of things he could make before settling on something he hoped his neighbor would like.

~

Before long, the seasons changed. Christmas was approaching, proving to be a perfect opportunity for Red to give his handmade gift to Oak.

While making pies for his neighbors, Oak heard a knock at the door. He went over to answer it, and, Lord behold, Red stood there, shivering from the cold. Under Red's arm was a Native American log drum. Awkwardly, he handed it over to him.

"For you," said Red, his eyes looking elsewhere.

"Thank you." Oak softly smiled. "It's pretty cold outside. Come in and warm yourself up."

Red was reluctant to head inside. However, the scent of pecan pie made him curious. He ended up stepping inside Oak's house for the first time in over a decade since meeting him. He sat himself down on a sofa in the small living room. Moments later, Oak came back with two plates of freshly baked pecan pie on white, porcelain plates. He gave one plate to Red.

"Thank you," he said.

"You're welcome."

The two ate their slices of pie. Red was finished with his slice by the time Oak ate half his pie. Having nothing else to do other than to deliver his gift, Red sat silently, awkwardly watching Oak eat in the mean time.

"... I should get going now." Red tried to excuse himself.

Oak gave him a quizzical look. "You're busy?"

He would've lied, but he didn't want to. In the end, he didn't say word.

"We can get to know each other. We're neighbors after all."

Reluctantly, Red sat back down. "... I still don't like you," he admitted.

He blinked his eyes twice. "I know."

"Do you? After everything they did to my people, I still find your presence unnerving."

Oak observed Red and his hunched figure before him. "... You're afraid I'm going to take over your home," he uttered upset. "You're afraid on disappearing. Am I wrong?"

Red gaped in disbelief. "How do you know?"

He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know. I just...know..." His voice grew quiet.

Red shook his head upset. "The White man are going to take over my home. It's only a matter of time. When that happens, my people will surely be hurt, discriminated, and treated with disgust and distrust. So, when I do disappear, could you please watch over them?"

Oak stared at him surprised. "What?"

"You have been kind to me ever since we first met. I've done nothing good for you. I treated you like one of them, throwing rocks and shooting arrows at you whenever you come bearing well-meaning gifts," he spoke with guilt. "To be truthful, I actually thought you poisoned the food. I thought you were trying to get rid of me. It was not until recently did I tasted your food. It brought tears to my eyes. It brought a pain inside my chest. No matter how many times I told myself to hate your food, I confess I was stubborn."

"I was ignorant. I assumed too much. You did not ask to be born. You were simply born to represent your people. I, too, was born baring such a burden. I was forced to oversee my people who were recently hurt by the White man. I did nothing to deserve such isolation. I simply wanted to live peacefully without the fear of them going after me. Yet, every day a part of my home disappears, used for someone else who didn't ask how I would feel about this. I was again reminded of the wicked injustices brought by the White man. Rather than speak up, I allowed my home to grow smaller every day. I did nothing, but hide and watched like the coward I was..."

Red frowned. "I failed to protect my people. I failed to stop the White man from taking away my home. For that, I don't deserve your kindness." He got up from the sofa. "Thank you for the pie. I'll head home now."

He was about to walk out of the house when he heard Oak's voice telling him to wait.

"It's not too late!" Oak got up and went up to Red. "What happened to your people, they didn't deserve it. You're weren't the reason for their traumatic past. What happened back then, it's not your fault."

Oak's words comforted Red's heart. "Your kind words are warm. But I'm afraid there's nothing I could do."

"Actually, there is. Although..." Oak hesitated, "... You won't like it. But I think you should do it."

"What is it?"

"... Statehood. You should apply for statehood." Red's brow creased. "I-I mean! Becoming a state would grant you representation in the federal government. You'll be granted more rights and more power. I heard your people have been trying to get you into the Union. You should do it."

"But..." Red sighed in defeat.

Oak placed a hand on his shoulder. "Times are changing. The Indian Wars are over. Your feelings toward White man will probably linger in your heart." He pointed to where Red's heart was. "I know deep down you care for your people. Your people, they're not weak. They've endured as much hardship as you. All this change going on, they're struggle right now is to get you to be a state. They hope by getting you into the Union there'll be a future where they can walk freely like the people who walk outside their home."

"I've seen the world beyond the borders of our homes. The White man, they're changing. I'll admit, there are those who thought of you and your people as a nuisance. But there are also those who are curious about us, truly wanting to get to know us. America, the states, they want to see you. They want to be friends with you. Eat with you, play with you, talk with you, you don't have to be alone anymore. There's a family out there who already surround your home. The Union's waiting for you."

"I can't erase or change what happened. But I can at least promise a bright future ahead of you. The sooner you change, the better you can be as a person. And the better you are, the sooner you can help the ones you love," he said.

Red's chest felt heavy again. The cancer next to his heart was beginning to die, growing smaller to the medicine that was Oak's kind words. His eyes began to water. One tear fell down his left cheek, but that was all. He wiped his face, revealing a reassured smile on his face.

"I'll take your word for what it's worth, my friend."

Oak softly smiled. "It's no problem. I'll be rooting for ya."

Red opened the door before looking back at his neighbor. "Okay. I'll be going now."

He nodded. "Okay. Bye now. Wish ya luck."

The two parted ways.

Little did Red know, there was an underlying sadness in Oak's voice when he bid him farewell. He thought on asking him what's on his mind, but he didn't want to come off as rude, especially after everything they had been through together. Either way, he needed to focus on his new objective in life. No longer was he going to let himself be ordered around. He needed to put aside his views. He needed to work with his people, and become a state.

~

The State of Sequoyah proved to be a failure. Instead, something else came out of the conference.

Red was upset and went to Oak's house to tell him the news. However, Oak wasn't home. Nor was he around. Eventually, Red discovered the front door was not locked. He thought it was rude to enter without permission. Yet, his heart sank as something dark came to mind. In the end, he reluctantly went inside Oak's house.

The entire house was clean, showing no signs of a burglary. Yet, Oak was nowhere to be found. Red could only find a freshly baked pecan pie, a small booklet, and a note on the kitchen counter. A shadow appeared over his eyes as he read the note.

Red,

I want to apologize for I haven't been honest with you. We've been neighbors for a little over fifteen years. I know we haven't exactly bonded over the years, but it felt like I known everything about you. In fact, I felt like I known you before we first met. I wanted to ask if you felt that way about me. I tried many times to find some way to ask you this question. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to. But that's okay.

I'm confident you'll be alright without me. If I'm right, you came to my home and found this note on the counter. I knew I would leave before you came home. Thus, I made you some pecan pie before I left. I made it extra sweet since I know you like it very sweet. Ha ha. Yeah, I also know about that, too. Sorry if that sounded weird. Still, I hope you like it. I won't be able to cook for you again which is unfortunate. But that's okay.

I made a recipe book. I've written down all the recipes I had made for you. Maybe one day when you're bored, you can try making these foods. I know what you're going to say. You're not a good cook. You'll mess up. Many times. It won't turn out well or taste similar to mine. But that's okay.

And, you're probably confused by all of this. I should've been honest with you from the very beginning. I thought you knew like I did. If you didn't, I'm sorry. At the very least, you have my blessings. I don't hold any grudge against their decision. Nor do I hold anything against you. Rather, I'm hopeful you'll become a state in no time. I may be gone, but that's okay.

I felt like I achieved something in my life. I guess having you become a state was my purpose, therefore there was no need for me to stay any longer. I wish I could be there a bit longer, at least to see you once more in person. In the end, I'm sure you'll do fine representing the two of us. Or, one of us if you still prefer to think like that. Either way, don't feel too bad about this whole thing. Tears aren't going to bring me back. I would hate for you to cry over something that wasn't entirely your fault. All I ask is for you to become a state. It'll be fine. I promise. Everything will be...okay...

Your Other Half, Oak

Red folded the farewell note up. He placed it inside the recipe book. He took the pie with him as he left. Some years would pass before he came back to the house with his belongings. The first thing he did was bake some pecan pie.

~ Bonus Scene ~

"So much changed around here," Alexa (Texas) noted as she drove her jet black Ford through the developing, Oklahoma countryside.

Alexa forgot to bring her gift to Red during his statehood ceremony at the capital. As soon as she got home, she grabbed her gift, and made the long drive to Red's home. Upon crossing the border, she became lost in the developing rural area. Rarely had she been to Red's home nor had she once stepped inside his personal house. The Texan thought it was going to take forever to find where he lived, especially after hearing his recent move.

That was until she saw a smoke stack in the distance.

Upon arriving on the property, she saw Red sitting on a log, staring at his new home. It was swallowed up by flames and clouds of smoke while the firefighters did their best to put out the fire.

Alexa approached him while staring at the bonfire. "What in tarnation did you do?"

"I was cooking some pie..."

"... I think ya put the heat on too high."

"Ya think!"

☆☆☆☆☆

Oklahoma

Nickname: The Sooner State

Human Name: Mahlihumma Johnson (In Choctaw means "Red Wind" and he's commonly nicknamed either Oak or Red)

Gender: Male

Age: 16

Foundation Date: Settled as Indian Territory and Oklahoma Territory in the 19th century for relocated Native Americans. Land runs began in the 1890s, leading to proposals of statehood.

Union Date: November 16, 1907 (46th)

Hair Color: Reddish-Brown

Eye Color: Hickory Brown

Notable Traits: Medium-length hair usually tied in a ponytail (refuses to cut it short). Darkened, tanned skin. Slightly short in height. Despite his diet, he maintains a skinny appearance with a slight bulge in his gut. Commonly wears random T-shirts and sweaters with a pair of brown slacks.

Favorite Foods/Drinks: Barbecued Pork, Fried Onion Burger, Fried Pies, Fried Okra, Grits, Cherry Limeades, Tater Tots, Cornbread, Sausages & Gravy, Squash

Favorites: Animals (especially Buffalo and Raccoons), Playing the Drums (he also plays the fiddle as well), Indian Blanket (flower), Painting, State Fairs (especially the food)

Personality: Taciturn and Self-reliant. Proud and private with his Native American heritage, and hates anyone gratifying the culture. For most of his life, he didn't like Americans, seeing them as the enemy and was distrusting of their presence. Today, he tolerates his fellow states, but resides as a stand-offish character who's known to rely on his own methods rather than other's. Has a fried-food craving that's on par to a sugar addict.

~

The original draft of this story involved Indian Territory and their encounter with America. However, I completely forgot about Indian Territory and Oklahoma Territory being two separate territories that made up present-day Oklahoma. After scrapping the original draft, I ended up with this story presented here.

To some who wonder why my interpretation of Oklahoma Territory disappeared while Indian Territory was allowed to become present-day Oklahoma, I personally didn't see Oklahoma Territory as an actual territory. From what I've read, Oklahoma Territory didn't necessarily have a proper government nor were there any major developments within their brief seventeen years as a territory. The territory pretty much existed as a transitional phase for both territories to become a single state. In addition to that, I find having Indian Territory disappear to be unfair in my opinion, especially considering they were around much longer than Oklahoma Territory and were the first to consider statehood.

"But why can't I have both of them exist to represent Oklahoma," one may say. For one, I prefer having one OC represent the state. Second, if I have to make an exception for this state, I'll have to make exceptions for the rest of the states, making it difficult to keep track of OCs and which parts they represent. Lastly, I find having two OCs representing the state to be pointless and a waste of time and work. In the future, I may make a side chapter on my opinion regarding multiple OCs representing a single land. Regardless, the State of Oklahoma has traits of both these territories prior to their statehood.

~

Feel free to vote or leave a comment on your thoughts of Oklahoma or place suggestions for future chapters on Oklahoma (history, facts, etc.)