Diary of a College Senior

Dec 31 - Cancun Sketches

Sunday, December 31, 2017

The next two stories are the result of a five-hour plane ride, inspired by what I saw & experienced in Cancun.

The Historian

An old man with tanned, wrinkly skin shuffled toward the entrance of the park. Dressed in a long-sleeved shirt, a knitted vest, long dress pants and shoes, he stood out amongst the locals with their exposed limbs and straw fedoras.

'Tours, tours from a local'. The old man said, 'one hour tour explaining the history of the ruins. Five US dollars per adult. Kids come for free!'

Carrying a picture album in hand, the man showed his guests pictures of artefacts excavated from these very ruins and told the story of the explorers who first discovered them.

'Over here was a house.' He explained, pointing toward the foot high of stones on the ground outlining the base of what once was a square-shaped house. 'A Mayan priest lived here next to the temple.' He pointed toward a bigger square nearby.

'And here,' he motioned toward a small rectangular shape outlined once again in stone, 'is where they found the skeleton of the six-fingered child, offered as a sacrifice to the Mayan gods.'

In broken English, he tells his guests the story of the Mayan people as the small group shuffled down the grass lane, pointing toward places of interest along the way and flipping through the shiny pages of the picture album, his tanned hands shaking from old age.

'And this, this was once a school.' He pointed toward a rectangular base about five times the size of the ruins of the house. Rows of broken grand staircases leading up to a tall platform hinted at what once must have been a marvellous structure. 'Only the children of the priests and leaders were allowed to study here. The children of the peasants had to work.'

The midday sun rose as the old historian led his guests toward a market and another temple. After receiving his tips at the end of the tour, he shuffled back slowly toward the park entrance, occasionally greeting a park employee he was on friendly terms with, before offering his services to a new wave of tourists.

Earl the Lion

Earl the lion was born on a chicken farm toward the end of the hottest season. Rough hands expertly sewed the seams along Earl's body before attaching around his head a mane of yarn in hues of brown and black, each about three inches long. After, Earl was stuffed with the scrap fabric until he was stiff to the touch.

One cloudy morning, way before the sun was up, Earl found himself tucked onto the bottom of a large brown sack along hundreds of others who look like him. He felt crushed under their weight, and the brown material of the sack scratched at his skin uncomfortably.

Soon, Earl heard a rumbling sound that got louder and louder. Eventually, it got so loud that it drowned out the crowing sounds of the chickens that were just waking up in their barns. (Earl knew there were many chickens around because they clucked all the time and he could smell the grainy smell of straw permeating all around him).

Before he knew it, Earl felt a strange floating sensation before he was slammed into the ground, the weight of all the others above suffocating him.

'Ouch!' He heard somebody say somewhere above.

'I can't breathe!' Someone else groaned.

'Tell me about it.' Thought Earl. But he didn't complain because he was excited to see where they were headed to.

After a long time (Earl had fallen asleep), he was woken up by a bright light which temporarily blinded him. There was no more suffocating weight above him and he could hear aloud, unrecognizable sounds all around him.

First, there was a high pitched sound that goes beep beep. Then many others going clack-clack-clack. And of course, all the voices of a hundred talking beings all making sounds at once. Earl was starting to feel a little scared.

Suddenly, he felt a pressure pressing down his two sides, and then he found himself standing on all fours in the bright afternoon sunlight.

'Hey, look at that cute lion'. He heard a loud voice say.

'How much for this?' A different voice asked.

'100.' Said a final, much louder voice.

Then, Earl felt a light pressure on his sides again as he was lifted up into the air once more. A small talking being was stroking back his mane. At the same time, he smelled a faint waft of coconut which he occasionally encountered back on the chicken farm.

'Aww, look at him, one of his eyes is lower than the other one.' The voice he heard before said. Earl could see them now, the two talking beings who were now peering at him like he was some strange species in a zoo. (Earl had heard others talk about zoos back on the farm. It was a place where talking beings went to look at creatures like him).

'I guess he is deformed in a cute way. It makes him unique.' The other talking being said.

'Deformed? I am deformed?' Earl thought. He didn't know what it meant but it sounded special.

'You are going to have so much fun with us, Earl.' The voice continued. 'When you meet all of my stuffies back home.'