BLOOD OF MOON: THE HEAVENLY HEIST

UCANS OF COZUMEL

¡Hola!

No, its not gonna be in Spanish, you can take a relaxing breather. I, for one, happen to like English. I am fine speaking it, and I am totally fine writing it as well. I, actually, plan to study English literature in college. Though the last few years have seen a huge storm run riots in my life, but things look up now.

¿Que?

What storm, you ask?

Do you wanna hear it?

Fine. I am happy to tell you, as long as you don't get bored.

Sooooo...

Your lovely narrator's name is Fabio Ucan. Now, before you ask about my super uncommon surname, let me make it clear. I am Mexican. Even more properly, I am Mayan. My bloodline is that of the ancient Maya, and there are very few of us left. Over the years, since Christianity has taken over, our clans have taken a back-step.

Anyway, I am Fabio Ucan, as you heard. I live San Miguel de Cozumel now. But this isn't where my story starts. My roots are even more humble. Twenty odd kilometers south of the city lies the village of Los Cambios. It literally translates to 'The Changes'. Why was the village named so? I had no idea.

Now, my life is not pretty at all. I lived there with my father. My mother, as my father said, had left us when we were mere children. I once had an older brother, Sergio. He was very opposite to me, but we were very close. He was the explorer, while I was more of a book person. We used to speak of going in search of Atlantis, El Dorado, the Holy Grail. He used to say, "You'll provide me with the info, and we'll go in search of it all." But alas. A year before, it was his exploring nature that took him from me. The doctor said that it was a jaguar attack. Before this incident, me, my father and my brother were a happy family. However, after Sergio died, my father distanced himself from me. What was a chirpy man with a lot of interest in my studies, my extra curricular activities, was now a sad man who spent his time away for work, before returning home, engaging in a super secret meeting with seven or eight of his friends, ate and slept.

My Papa worked in a factory, as he said. I never saw him go to work, since he always left after I left for school. He must have been at a good post, since we never had a big shortage of finance to run the house. Like my best friend Akna, whose father worked to make shoes. Akna had to help him after school, as it was some sort of family custom (no, she's not related to Coco). Akna's father was Papa's best friend, and was always the first to arrive during his super secret meeting every night. It was good, yes. But I hoped that Papa would be warmer to me. He rarely speaks to me. In these last ten months or so, he had distanced himself so much that I barely felt like I knew him. The only thing that hadn't changed was Papa's meeting. It was there before, and it was there now. It was almost every day, with Papa going into his room with his friends, and not coming out for hours. I could hear them talk, who knew about what. And his friends, man. All of them rugged and heavily built like him. Reminded me of my bullies in school.

Enough about Papa. It's time for me. So, I am seventeen now. And when this tale started, I was fifteen and a half. I was in junior high school, and life was bearable. I was still healing from the loss of my brother, and his rivals in school bullied me. But as it is with people like me, first signs had already shown. And had it not been for this side of mine, I would have been dead already. It showed up the day I turned thirteen.

Akna and I were walking down the corridor, getting ready for the next class, when Carlos came along. No, not a good guy. Carlos was one of those Mexican bad boys you picture when you hear Mexican gangsters. Heavily built, tattooed arms. And his face? Imagine Dani Trejo, but eighteen years old. And just like a typical bully, he had two weaker chums. He walked up to me, and caught me by my shoulders, and said, "Your hermano died, I heard. If I knew, I would personally thank the jaguar. Cuz that leaves you all alone, and me to avenge my misery." I cursed, believing that it worked against bullies. But sadly, it only made Carlos mad. He raised a punch to flatten my face, but I instinctively blocked his fist with my hand, and then it happened. 

His firm fist got looser. His face clenched, got red, as if he was trying to get himself out of my grip, but could barely do so. Then, his feet went wobbly, and he sank to the ground. And I looked at my hand, bewildered. When did I get this strong? I had never picked up a chair in my life. Carlos went on cursing, as his friends picked him and left. And Akna? She looked at me bewildered. Her brown eyes pierced through me, maybe trying to understand what just happened. That's a very Akna thing, those piercing eyes. Anyway, she kept herself from asking too many questions, and we continued the day.

The next incident happened when Akna was being disrespected by our local grocery shopkeeper. She was supposed to buy some beans for the house, and the grocery man was being, well, not nice (I'll tell you the reason later). And Akna, being Akna, was returning the favor. Words were being thrown, and no matter how much I tried to calm them down, it only got more intense. And before I knew it, the man's hand shot at Akna, and before she could react, I caught him by the hand, with strength. And it happened again. The man's face went stiff, as he muffled a scream, tightly closed his eyes, before his hand went lose, and he collapsed on the ground. That day, I had asked Akna, "What is happening to me?"

"I have no idea, buddy." She had said, "All I see is that you don't know your own strength. You are stronger than you realize. Maybe that's what Sergio saw in you. He used to teach you to fight, yes?"

"He did."

"That must be paying off, yeah?"

Akna had always been a little secretive. Despite the fact that everyone in Los Cambios was fun-loving and sweet and friendly, people were secretive too. Akna was no different. Despite knowing me all her life, there were times when she would restrain herself from saying something she was about to, stopping abruptly. So abruptly that it was noticeable. Initially, I used to poke her, but she just wouldn't get that out. So, as a good friend, I would let go.

Anyway, life in Los Cambios was okay. There was a lot of mystery around me, but I didn't have any problem with it, as long as it didn't get in my way.

But it did. Oh, gods, it did. And I have completely mixed feelings that it did.