Stretching fiction beyond belief almost contemplating reality; the sun showed bright that day. A feathered staff whipped in the wind, the drums were beating methodically. Hold them strong while they are babies, the majority of their years they will live alone and willfully under the hold of something as abstract as currency; they have landed and they will never leave; the drums continued to beat, the flutes mimicked the altitudes; They formed a line of sorts, behind bark and leaves, bushes and mounds of dirt, awaiting the call to defend what was theirs. I cried for them, and i still do. Spear tips glimmered sharp almost cutting the air that they traversed, making the air harder to breathe. Tears held with surface tension on the lashes of the mothers for their daughters and sons. Babies courted imagination and laughed at these wayward cast-aways. I did not laugh but held my arms up to the sky, hands stretched open, face pointing to the sky, the sun wouldn't take me in, but i took in the sun and its might. Likewise those fathers and sons drenched themselves in the passion of the rays that descended from the fiery mass in the sky, the sun would not be clouded that day, so that the thick raw blood that flowed like rivers of molten lava would set the land aflame, would weave in and out of the rocks, would dip and collect in the valleys, would climb hills and defy gravity, would traverse the soil and water the roots of the trees making their leaves deep dark red, the bloodshot eyes of a wolf enraged by the loss of its instinct to run free and howl at the moon. I would have stood beside brothers and sisters, uncles and grandfathers, elders and chiefs, spirit men and medicine men, men and women of respect and dignity. Casting an eye to the shore i would have told them to not be afraid of those shiny silver skin plates, that underneath they were as soft and vulnerable as newborns.
I led the charge down that hill towards the shore. My brothers and sisters running alongside me. The drums beating, the flutes mimicking the altitudes. As i lay pinned to the soil held down by a giant silver sword like a thumbtack threw my chest, blood erupted like a volcano from me, like a rainbow over the sun as i lay on my back. i turned my head only slightly and could see my brothers and sisters fighting, charging these invaders, yelling and screaming, blood and guts splattering my lips and brow, soiling my hair and skin in a thick paste. Their armor no longer showed as precious as before, covered with the drying blood of my brothers and sisters. What had they come for ? They were after something ! THEY WERE AFTER SOMETHING !The bodies of my brothers and sisters lay all around me, long straight jet-black hair caressed my feet and palms. I no longer heard the methodical beating of the drums, or the flutes mimicking the altitudes. How painfully deep the sword dug into my chest. My skin tanning as i lay flat on the ground. I died of tremendous pain and agony that day, not for the pain dealt to me by the manner of my death. The spaniards had landed.