Control

There is a legend around here. At the dried up stream bed a curse was cast, so many eons ago. A curse of a man who's sons traveled  and new generations formed, eventually they traveled to Mexico where the last of them stayed. The man knew that his death was going to happen, as though sensing the future. The man was to be murdered and cursed at this very stream. During the time its sweet juices overflowed out into the forest. The man was killed by a passing  hunter. Though not any random hunter, but a religious teacher, and a spirit walker. He killed the man because the spirits had to punish him. And doing so he did, solely by the guidance of the spirits. As the hunter killed the man, the man looked up at the hunters eyes, which seemed hollow and empty, his vision was fading but not before realizing that there was no pupil in the hunters eyes. In fact, they were pure white. Not to the point of glowing, but a ghostly white that would haunt your soul at even a very glimpse of it.

The hunter then dumped the body into the stream and turned it red as a sign that man should not play god. As the spirits punished him to be a warning, but as well a savior to man. It is said that the man’s descendants predict a date of civilizations end. Modernly assumed to be the Mayan calendar, but no. That happens to be a coincidence as even though the man’s descendants were future Mayans, they never made that calendar. This calendar was said to be locked away in the dream realm. A world in which raw creation can be achieved by anyone. But as well not conceived by everyone. This world in which this calendar lay is the world that every dreamer enters to. And so since no one tries to let the dream world control them, they instead try to control it, they will never find the calendar. But the date is not important, but rather the where. This is because at this trail where the man died. Soaking his blood imprint on the world. Another life must be taken to save all of human life. To go beyond our instinct but instead to help others even though our life forces will be eaten away. When the waters dry up off this earth, life will start to wither, this is when a man must go alone to the stream bed  and lay down his life so that the juice of his body will pour out, not as blood. But as water. Every time a drink is taken by a conceited man, the one who saved us all shall suffer. And the dilemma of humanity is that we are all conceited. Though his pain brings us life, the good things done will make him cry, not out of pity or despair, but out of joy, and the cries will bring rains to even the driest of places. Why? Because the man did what no other man will do. So he will achieve what no other man can. Control.

By: Kylan Walker