Tribal Warning

Tribal Warning

            I am running as fast as I can, hoping that I can possibly make it in time to warn the village. I can’t help but think, “Am I too late?” I wonder if the rest of my tribe have seen these foreign pale faces that have landed on our shores in vast objects I have never gazed upon. Just a little bit further. I find my pace slowing as I struggle to catch my breath, running though high shrubs, and over thick trunks of trees, I just nearly bypassed a serpiente"snake, which was only inches from my foot. As I near the village I can’t help but notice an unnerving silence, which soon envelopes me. I rush to find my father to tell him what I have seen; buts as I step through our hut and try to calm myself down to tell him of the strangers, my father tells me that Montezuma has called a meeting in Tenochtitlan.

            We arrive at the great temple, and as I gaze up I encounter many familiar faces, those of whom I had seen on the shore. I have a weird feeling about these strangers, but soon force the thought out of my mind. Our emperor Montezuma stands next to the pale man and states that “El es Dios que hermos estate esperando”---He is the god we have been waiting for. As these words slip from his tongue everyone gazes upon the stranger with hope, and praise in their eyes, although I am still fearful I also look upon them in a new light.

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            As the sun rises and sets, these “gods” still walk among us. They walk through our village and encounter us doing our daily rituals and by chance while I am picking corn I happen to bump into one. He says something to me in a language I can’t understand and extends his hand to me, when I don’t respond he takes my hand in his and shakes it, as he releases my hand he gazes upon my any tattoos. The tattoos that represent the many triumphs I have made in my life; as he looks back up at me he makes a gesture with his face and turns to walk away.

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            I do not know how long they plan to stay but something about the look in his eyes reminds me of the rage I encounter when animals are disturbed among their natural habitat. As time goes by these strangers soon start to change, they start to challenge Montezuma and soon things turn from bad to worse. I am awoken in the middle of the night by my father who urges me to wake up. As I step out of our hut I am horrified at what I see: my village, our village is in llamas"flames! Our straw roofs are collapsing, our crops and food turned into ash, and families look for wondering children, I wonder who is responsible for this, and as I look around I see those same pale faces, who once appeared to be mere “gods” but in that moment had turned into false idols that ruined our once flourishing village. I look down on the hands that once fascinated the stranger and start to remember each and every significant event that my tattoos represent.

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            Part One: The Marriage

            As a young girl I was raised in a culture that praises a Sun God, signifies the family, and aggrandizes sacrificial offerings to the God’s. We are trained to endure everything and fear nothing. My family and I haven so lucky to have avoided being picked as sacrificial “lambs.” On an ordinary day our family wakes up and goes about our day; my father enters the forest to endure the long hunt, my mom stay at home to care for my little siblings, and I go about collecting drinking water and crops for our family to eat. One day while coming home with our freshly picked crops, my father stood at the door along with a handsome warrior whom is praised in our empire. As I approached the two of them they instinctively turned to greet me; my father introduced me to the stranger whom they call Acolmiztli. As the stranger greets e, he then turns to leave.

            Later that day while eating dinner, my father turns to me and says “El Acolmiztli ha estate preguntando sobre usted. El ha pedidio su mano en se casan.”---Alcolmiztli has asked about you. He has asked for your hand in marriage. I look at my father in confusions since I don’t even know Alcolmiztli, how could he expect me to marry a common stranger. My father ignores my complaints, and quickly silences me; he tells me that it is in the Aztec way for a girl my age to be married. ! No habrà màs querelles, usted se casarà con Acolmiztli!”"There will be no more arguing, you will marry Acolmiztli, he shouts. He then continues eating as if nothing happened, I turn to my mother but she offers no sympathy toward my cause. The next day my father informs me that I shall have a meeting with my future husband Acolmiztli.

            I hear someone at the door and realize the inevitable event has come, on the other side Alcolmiztli stands awaiting my arrival. I turn to look at my father as I make my way to the door. I feel my heart pounding as if it is about to burst from my chest as I greet Alcolmiztli. He says that since we are to be married it is accustomed to be marked to signify that you are to be married. I am taken aback at his request and turn to my father to put an end to this charade, but to no avail as he signal for me to go. So to not disrespect my father I reluctantly walk with Acolmiztli to get branded, as I walk I remember that mom has some tattoos on her hand and realize that she as well was marked.

            We arrive at a little hut about half a mile up from mine, as we walk in it seems as if the scrawny old man inside  has been awaiting my arrival. He signal for me to sit down in front of him and I do what I am told; when I sit down he tells me to “Asimiento su mano”---Hold out your hand. As I hold out my hand Alcolmiztli holds my arm down and the man quickly grabs a red hot poker dipped in melted charcoal and comes closer to my hand. I try to squirm away from Alcolmizli’s grasp, but o no use he is too strong; the poke soon comes in contact with and skin and I let out a death defying cry. It feels as if my and has been lit on fire, and due to Alcolmizli’s strength I cannot escape the pain. The pain gets worse as he continues to draw a weird symbol on my hand, and I can no longer stand the pain; my vision starts to blur as I pass out from the pain.

Author's Note

A recent story I entered in a writing contest.

Reviews

[Stanley King]

A true work of art that keep's you spellbound

[Random Peter]

Interesting thing... Well, if you can you may extend it and now to finished it like this. Your "starting in the middle" beginning works very good in this case. Continue writing or make something different. Your choice