Quetzalkilla

After myself died I sank down into blackness and the river carried me along.  Into an underworld cave.  Screeching birds giant blind spiders.  Rich earth scent; stalagmites stalactites; pure water clean cold bottomless.  Then ocean.  Sea of time.  Primordial brine.  Galaxies of particle clouds swirling.  Whales’ songs.  Trillions of stars.  Thick heat, vegetation, dinosaurs; I’d emerged in an ancient new world.

Lovers in golden light coupled, a man released his seed.  Semen became one with the Amazon.  One with the sea.  Slid into a bottomless indigo hole off what is now known as Belize and steeped in the red hot liquid bowels of the Earth mother womb, then blind worming through underworld water tunnels up towards the Yucatan Sun I was born.

Still am that Mayan God King.  Not just in a past life.  Anything in the mind exists solely right Now I deflower my virgin brides; they crimson stain the love temple stone.

I was a young cadet patrolling the royal compound, pacing its walls, sniffing out.  My predecessor decreed:  If you can take any one of my wives I’ll reward you with her weight in gold.  Because she won’t – she knows:  Women are but sex holes, vessels for sons’ souls.

By ending him I inherited his wives, and I also incidentally wiped out his heirs to nip any vengeance in the bud.  Took his land crops animals tools foodstuffs and weapons as prize.

I clinched his neck in my knees and twisted and yanked his head hard back.  I didn’t expect to rip it clean off.  When I realized what I’d done I prostrated myself on the ground, face down arms stretched above head in supplication and awe; it was awesome.

Thus I became leader.

There wasn’t much protein in our diet (we subsisted on potatoes, yucca… plenty of carbs) but.  One source existed in abundance.

I introduced a game.  Kinda like lacrosse without penalties or protective equipment, it was played on unlimited fields; it was throwing the man trying to tackle you to the ground and going after the ball carrier with your club, breaking his thigh bone with it, bashing his skull in.  No goal, no rules, except: first man to die gets barbecued.

Heck we ate lizards and insects otherwise.  Which to be fair were pretty good too.  But this fun, family-friendly pastime proved warrior spirit – carrying the ball garnered respect – and thinned weak genes from the bloodline.

Of course the crowd bowed.  Not really my bitches – they chose to slave Sun days; it was good exercise – my loyalists felt moved to erect a sixty meter pyramid out of huge cubic stones.  Atop its impossibly steep stairs by which they could only approach on all fours I made my nest of bones.

The roar of the masses.  The indecipherability of individual voices.  The transcendence; the divinity.  i.  Make up rituals on the spot, egged on by wild applause.  Raise a severed head high – they howl with delight.  Lick it, they shriek on the brink.  Scoop out the brains, squish the mush, make them wait for it, wait for it, wait – they’re going insane, they’re tearing each other to pieces in ecstasy – Now i God King eat.

Recumbent as my wives discuss recipes for chocolate – bored – I murmur a boast and say watch I’ll prove it; and, waving to my stadium-sea of fans, step outside to a roar which becomes deafening like for a super bowl touchdown as I don my cloak.

And leap and soar using my human skin stretched over a bamboo frame and quetzal feathers decorated hanglider over the masses, dropping decapitated mementos of my power.

On the perimeter of the settlement slept the free warrior farmers.  In lesser stone keeps my blood clan.  Each man chose his particular family tattoos.  But we had to lay down some ground rules.  So I plucked these holy words from the sky:

First of the thirteen commandments is worship the sacred mothers, maidens til marriage who must give themselves whole and stay true.  Next everyone keep everyone satisfied.  Third, elder wives become matriarchs, compersion-driven-polyamorists with seats at the council table as right and left hands of the Man, who instruct young inductees in the fine arts of eroticism and household management, and instruct them in the rituals, as the right and left hands of the Man.  Four, the first wife’s eldest son may carry on the chiefdom; he is raised by his father and men.  Five, every other male takes his mother’s name and let turn him out as he will, even should he ascendeth to chief; but after becoming a Man, although he is always welcome in his father’s house, he is to sleep at the hearths of his maternal grandsires.  Let him learn the wisdom of the aged.  Protect them with his life.  Let all young men (and any young women who want to) leap up instantly at any whiff of a threat to the Clan, let them be trained and always ready for violence.  Six never kill thy brother or sister.  Seven don’t covet thy father’s possessions.  Eight be fruitful and multiply.  Nine discover we’re living in paradise now.  Ten respect everyone, listen to them; be a friend.  Eleven music, wine and orgies help.  Twelve use medicines moderately and intelligently in pursuit of holy revelations.  Thirteen meditate; make up your own rules; be true to thine i.

A false king failed to believe, so I made eyes then love to his woman, used her to get close, bowed low his faithful warrior, and punctured him with a frog poison dart.

Murdered my rivals one by one.  On the sly with curare.  In front of everyone with a scythe.

Took many scalps; garnered respect.

Easily reheated widows.  A Mother’s duty is to reproduce with the fittest, and leave the lesser to die.

The High Priest couldn’t be killed; he was the snake, he was the tiger.  He could manifest any creature, he was the animal inside.  Everywhere all around in the jungle, just out of sight.  Whispering in weird voices the feral thoughts of my mind.

Behead em, disembowel em, flay em alive.  For any little tiniest offence.  Consolidate your reign, strike fear in the hearts of those who might otherwise hesitate an instant before obeying even unthinkable commands.  Eliminate all threats.

I lost several brothers to violence, and took on their women as well, and raised their children as mine, as was right.  Made homage by humanfat candlelight in the skulls of our fathers shrine.

I chanted the following mantra in an ancient tongue I misremember now:  Family eternal, joined in paradise; no envy, only pride.

I fed Masai style from the teats of my many cows, grew fat on their blood and milk, like in my even ancienter African life.

When the volcano god raged I fasted until I knew what She craved, and slit the throat of my favorite young daughter on the night of her first red moon, and let fall that ultimate sacrifice.

Because very obviously nothing satisfies like blood.

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