The Temple in the Sky, Fernando Herrera Jr [the rosie project .txt] 📗
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- Author: Fernando Herrera Jr
Book online «The Temple in the Sky, Fernando Herrera Jr [the rosie project .txt] 📗». Author Fernando Herrera Jr
not believe this is suitable for your innocent little ears.”
Puzzled, Micay responded, “But sir… I… I don’t really care how abominable your story may be, I wish to listen. I am going to be the queen… right? I think I deserve to know, and I’m gonna stay put. With all due respect, Mr. Kusco, I’m not going anywhere.” She looked over at Apaec for support.
Apaec felt proud because Kusco felt that he was mature enough to listen to whatever inappropriate story he had in store, but he didn’t want Micay to be hurt, so he answered: “Kusco, whatever it is you have to say, I’m sure Micay is prepared to hear. She’s my best friend and I know she’s gonna be just fine. I assure you, Kusco. Go on, please.”
Kusco scratched his thick gray beard. He then looked at Micay as he squint his eye, sighed, and then spoke, “Very well then, but don’t say I didn’t warn you, princess. I presume you are right. As the future queen of Nazca, you have the right to know the truth… you should be aware of the atrocities these servants of Supay are capable of.
The Golden Key
As Daisy rattled the brick by her ear, she asked for the hammer, took it, and batted the brick. It broke in irruption, projecting a chip into Jasper’s right eye. “Aaahh! He yelled in pain as he took his hand to his wounded eye. Daisy laughed. Jasper stood erect for a moment and then began to sprint to the bathroom again, but he slipped and fell into the fireplace, face first, whirling ash into the air. Daisy covered her mouth startled, but couldn’t help giggle. Eventually, he stood up and shook it off like a wet dog. You can imagine the mess. Meredith was in a parlor near by reading a magazine. The commotion sent her to inspect the scene. She arrived with the magazine in hand. Her reading had been interrupted. She would be upset, for sure.
“What’s going on here?” she asked, perplexed. But once she saw that her son was black, she understood. “My goodness! What in heavens have you done!? Jasper! You get over here right now, mister. What have I told you about meddling with the fireplace? Oohhh-you’re in big trouble now.”
She went over to the poor boy and took him by the ear (the perfect slab to grab), and pulled him to a chair that was set beside a coffee table. She set him on her lap, face down, exposed his buns to the air, and performed the infamous, slapping ritual. She did it by rolling up the magazine and using it as the castigation instrument. As usual, there were spectators—or spectator—in this case, Daisy. For the first time, Jasper cried. It hurt, perhaps not his little buns, but defiantly his big pride. Afterwards, she let him stand but ordered him to clean the mess before he could get away. Daisy was till standing as a solo spectator. In whimpers (like an abashed puppy with its tail between its legs), Jasper went off to get a broom.
“I’m sorry you had to see that, Daisy, but he’ll never learn if I don’t.”
Daisy simply shrugged in impassivity, then walked over to the mess and picked up a little key—the golden key. She wiped the silt off with her dress, polishing it, and placed it in her pocket, patting at it. She pranced like a dilly out to the garden where the chest awaited to be unlocked.
The Beggar’s Crusade and the Misinterpretation of the Foreign Pirates
Now… where was I—the regular panther—the leopard? Oh yes, of course. The cursed dungeon! Well, as I was saying, there were hundreds of men and women—and you can imagine the stench of the place—it was unbearable. A miasma of sweat and fecal matters permeated the ill-sated cocoon. I was able to seize a little corner which I called home… and I lived next to your grandfather on the bare grime, where everyday we would talk about escape. It was horrendous, children. Men fought for the little food they fed us, and the poor, helpless women were abused like animals. Some were raped, murdered, and even fed upon. I recall one day when a group of savage men raped a poor woman and beat her to death. Once she lay dead, they proceeded to tear off her flesh with their long sharp-nails. And then, without remorse, they ate her. Just like that—raw—like a jaguar eats its prey. It was a crude and disgusting sight. A few days went by and the savage cannibals became very ill. They deserved dying in that dungeon for their monstrous actions. They all died within the same week and their bodies rotted quickly because of the heat. I remember the stench becoming so unbearable that in order to block it we wore our torn up clothing around our faces. It kept us from vomiting. The guards did not remove the bodies for many days. Many moons went by and we survived eating only very small portions of corn-bread, and little cups of egregious soup. We were given filthy water to drink… but it was barely enough to survive.” Kusco looked down at the floor and put his hand to his mouth in disgust. He appeared to be ashamed of himself. He continued, “Sometimes… we had to drink our own urine just to stay alive. I was a member of the royal council, and yet, there I was, sitting on dirt and stone, in a diabolical death chamber, drinking my own piddle. The witches have no hearts. They are not like us kindred spirits. Why, they are not spirits at all. In fact, they are dwelled by demons, they are. I did not understand why the gods would allow such atrocities. Were they not aware of them? And then… after many nights of pondering and deep meditation, like a stone, it hit me… on the head—hard. At first I though I had stumbled on a battering cogitation. But then, I realized that the mad man that lived across from me had actually thrown a stone at my head and broken my meditation. Regardless, it triggered something. I realized something: the gods weren’t anywhere present in that dungeon. Many of the prisoners were chosen as gods… but then, what in the hell were they doing rotting in that dungeon? I realized the witches had been taking their places all this forsaken time. Those bastards! Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
Apaec answered, “Yes… but… how could that… how could that be? All this time, you mean to say that… every single worthy spirit was kept a prisoner?”
“Precisely! And utilized as slaves too! Who do you think built their magnificent temples and palaces? He chuckled. “It wasn’t the Cahuachi—that I assure you. Can’t you see? It was us! Citizens of Nazca like you and me were kept as slaves! but not any longer, children. This is why you, my dear prince…, you will be the next rightful king, and you must put an end to these atrocities. And now that you have learned the truth… you must do the righteous thing.” He took a deep sigh and continued, “To conclude, after months of imprisonment, we were finally let out. However, we were not freed. Instead, our hands were bound together with thick ropes, as we were forced to walk mile after mile beyond the limits of the jungle, right into the desert. We walked under the ruthless heat of the summer, until we arrived at The Site of the Offerings. That is where they lined us up. Right next to the offerings, as if we… ourselves were offerings. Like the animals!” Distressed, the old man stood up to have a drink of water in order to clear his throat. He sat back down and asked, “What have you heard about your father, Apaec?”
Apaec sat puzzled for a moment not understanding the relevance of the question. Regardless, he answered: “Well, I never met him. He died before I was born. My mother always said he was a good man, and I know that he belonged to the Kapra. She also said that he left during a winter on a long trade expedition that went bad. There was some sort of disagreement between the foreign merchants and the Kapra and he was killed in battle.”
“My dear Apaec, I regret to inform you, you have been deceived. You are under a crude misconception. However, do not blame your mother, for she told you this merely for your own safety… Apaec, do you wish to know the true story of your father‘s unfortunate death?”
Shocked and incredulous, Apaec sat frozen in his position nodding his head. He said, “Yes, of course. Tell me. I wish to know. But you mean to say that my mom lied to me? My mother has been lying to me all this time?”
“I’m afraid so, Apaec, but again, you mustn’t be hasty in judging her. She was only looking out for you. It was indeed for the best of reason that you did not find out… You see, the trade expedition never took place. Instead, your father, along with a group of Kapras, was led into Cahuachi City. There, he was ‘cleansed’ by a high-priest and informed he had been chosen…”
Apaec and Micay turned to each other in terror. Kusco continued, “Afterwards, he was taken to the Site of the Offerings where… Apaec, I’m terribly sorry to inform you… but your father was killed—” Apaec sat on the stool, staring at the ground in astonishment. “—They sacrificed him because they wanted his young, clean blood. You see, they drank his blood, and then fed upon… never mind that. The Cahuachi believe that in order to be chosen by the gods you must be clean—that is, worthy, for one must not carry iniquity in their bloodstream.
“For those inglorious hoodlums knew their souls weren’t nearly worthy enough to be chosen. That is why they drink the young blood. Do you understand? They need the unpolluted blood of the actual chosen spirits to mask the foul and contaminated blood that flows through them. That way, when the gods do arrive at the site, they are deceived by it, and they take the witches by mistake. They have been cheating the system all along! And, do you want to know how they get away with all of this? How they deceive even the great, all-knowing, mighty High Lord, Huiracocha?” He chuckled taking the last bite from his fruit, and continued, “This is the illicit work of Supay, the Unsavory God of Death.
“If Lord Huiracocha is indeed as all knowing as we claim, then why is he blinded from the Cahuachi doings? When the scoundrel of Supay drank the blood of his murdered brethren, he gained special powers which allowed him to affect the Four Quarters to a certain extent. He was able to affect the Four Quarters by … ………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………explain relationship between supay and cuhauachi-the benefits each party gains with their alliance. Cuhachi become gods, supay becomes supreme ruler of four quarters- rules the universe with the cuhachi as his minions on earth. explain how the gods do not see the dead bodies at site of offerings ………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………The Cuhuachi revealed their true heartlessness when they formed their alliance with Supay. The Cahuachi also sacrifice human offerings for Supay. They worship him, you see? He is blinding the gods from the evil doings of the Cahuachi. It’s his strategy to rid the Four Quarters of Huiracocha’s spirits. He wants to take power of The Four Quarters—to somehow utilize our spirits as agents to breach the heavens and ultimately overpower Huiracocha. In simple terms, the death servants sell their souls to Supay and become
Puzzled, Micay responded, “But sir… I… I don’t really care how abominable your story may be, I wish to listen. I am going to be the queen… right? I think I deserve to know, and I’m gonna stay put. With all due respect, Mr. Kusco, I’m not going anywhere.” She looked over at Apaec for support.
Apaec felt proud because Kusco felt that he was mature enough to listen to whatever inappropriate story he had in store, but he didn’t want Micay to be hurt, so he answered: “Kusco, whatever it is you have to say, I’m sure Micay is prepared to hear. She’s my best friend and I know she’s gonna be just fine. I assure you, Kusco. Go on, please.”
Kusco scratched his thick gray beard. He then looked at Micay as he squint his eye, sighed, and then spoke, “Very well then, but don’t say I didn’t warn you, princess. I presume you are right. As the future queen of Nazca, you have the right to know the truth… you should be aware of the atrocities these servants of Supay are capable of.
The Golden Key
As Daisy rattled the brick by her ear, she asked for the hammer, took it, and batted the brick. It broke in irruption, projecting a chip into Jasper’s right eye. “Aaahh! He yelled in pain as he took his hand to his wounded eye. Daisy laughed. Jasper stood erect for a moment and then began to sprint to the bathroom again, but he slipped and fell into the fireplace, face first, whirling ash into the air. Daisy covered her mouth startled, but couldn’t help giggle. Eventually, he stood up and shook it off like a wet dog. You can imagine the mess. Meredith was in a parlor near by reading a magazine. The commotion sent her to inspect the scene. She arrived with the magazine in hand. Her reading had been interrupted. She would be upset, for sure.
“What’s going on here?” she asked, perplexed. But once she saw that her son was black, she understood. “My goodness! What in heavens have you done!? Jasper! You get over here right now, mister. What have I told you about meddling with the fireplace? Oohhh-you’re in big trouble now.”
She went over to the poor boy and took him by the ear (the perfect slab to grab), and pulled him to a chair that was set beside a coffee table. She set him on her lap, face down, exposed his buns to the air, and performed the infamous, slapping ritual. She did it by rolling up the magazine and using it as the castigation instrument. As usual, there were spectators—or spectator—in this case, Daisy. For the first time, Jasper cried. It hurt, perhaps not his little buns, but defiantly his big pride. Afterwards, she let him stand but ordered him to clean the mess before he could get away. Daisy was till standing as a solo spectator. In whimpers (like an abashed puppy with its tail between its legs), Jasper went off to get a broom.
“I’m sorry you had to see that, Daisy, but he’ll never learn if I don’t.”
Daisy simply shrugged in impassivity, then walked over to the mess and picked up a little key—the golden key. She wiped the silt off with her dress, polishing it, and placed it in her pocket, patting at it. She pranced like a dilly out to the garden where the chest awaited to be unlocked.
The Beggar’s Crusade and the Misinterpretation of the Foreign Pirates
Now… where was I—the regular panther—the leopard? Oh yes, of course. The cursed dungeon! Well, as I was saying, there were hundreds of men and women—and you can imagine the stench of the place—it was unbearable. A miasma of sweat and fecal matters permeated the ill-sated cocoon. I was able to seize a little corner which I called home… and I lived next to your grandfather on the bare grime, where everyday we would talk about escape. It was horrendous, children. Men fought for the little food they fed us, and the poor, helpless women were abused like animals. Some were raped, murdered, and even fed upon. I recall one day when a group of savage men raped a poor woman and beat her to death. Once she lay dead, they proceeded to tear off her flesh with their long sharp-nails. And then, without remorse, they ate her. Just like that—raw—like a jaguar eats its prey. It was a crude and disgusting sight. A few days went by and the savage cannibals became very ill. They deserved dying in that dungeon for their monstrous actions. They all died within the same week and their bodies rotted quickly because of the heat. I remember the stench becoming so unbearable that in order to block it we wore our torn up clothing around our faces. It kept us from vomiting. The guards did not remove the bodies for many days. Many moons went by and we survived eating only very small portions of corn-bread, and little cups of egregious soup. We were given filthy water to drink… but it was barely enough to survive.” Kusco looked down at the floor and put his hand to his mouth in disgust. He appeared to be ashamed of himself. He continued, “Sometimes… we had to drink our own urine just to stay alive. I was a member of the royal council, and yet, there I was, sitting on dirt and stone, in a diabolical death chamber, drinking my own piddle. The witches have no hearts. They are not like us kindred spirits. Why, they are not spirits at all. In fact, they are dwelled by demons, they are. I did not understand why the gods would allow such atrocities. Were they not aware of them? And then… after many nights of pondering and deep meditation, like a stone, it hit me… on the head—hard. At first I though I had stumbled on a battering cogitation. But then, I realized that the mad man that lived across from me had actually thrown a stone at my head and broken my meditation. Regardless, it triggered something. I realized something: the gods weren’t anywhere present in that dungeon. Many of the prisoners were chosen as gods… but then, what in the hell were they doing rotting in that dungeon? I realized the witches had been taking their places all this forsaken time. Those bastards! Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
Apaec answered, “Yes… but… how could that… how could that be? All this time, you mean to say that… every single worthy spirit was kept a prisoner?”
“Precisely! And utilized as slaves too! Who do you think built their magnificent temples and palaces? He chuckled. “It wasn’t the Cahuachi—that I assure you. Can’t you see? It was us! Citizens of Nazca like you and me were kept as slaves! but not any longer, children. This is why you, my dear prince…, you will be the next rightful king, and you must put an end to these atrocities. And now that you have learned the truth… you must do the righteous thing.” He took a deep sigh and continued, “To conclude, after months of imprisonment, we were finally let out. However, we were not freed. Instead, our hands were bound together with thick ropes, as we were forced to walk mile after mile beyond the limits of the jungle, right into the desert. We walked under the ruthless heat of the summer, until we arrived at The Site of the Offerings. That is where they lined us up. Right next to the offerings, as if we… ourselves were offerings. Like the animals!” Distressed, the old man stood up to have a drink of water in order to clear his throat. He sat back down and asked, “What have you heard about your father, Apaec?”
Apaec sat puzzled for a moment not understanding the relevance of the question. Regardless, he answered: “Well, I never met him. He died before I was born. My mother always said he was a good man, and I know that he belonged to the Kapra. She also said that he left during a winter on a long trade expedition that went bad. There was some sort of disagreement between the foreign merchants and the Kapra and he was killed in battle.”
“My dear Apaec, I regret to inform you, you have been deceived. You are under a crude misconception. However, do not blame your mother, for she told you this merely for your own safety… Apaec, do you wish to know the true story of your father‘s unfortunate death?”
Shocked and incredulous, Apaec sat frozen in his position nodding his head. He said, “Yes, of course. Tell me. I wish to know. But you mean to say that my mom lied to me? My mother has been lying to me all this time?”
“I’m afraid so, Apaec, but again, you mustn’t be hasty in judging her. She was only looking out for you. It was indeed for the best of reason that you did not find out… You see, the trade expedition never took place. Instead, your father, along with a group of Kapras, was led into Cahuachi City. There, he was ‘cleansed’ by a high-priest and informed he had been chosen…”
Apaec and Micay turned to each other in terror. Kusco continued, “Afterwards, he was taken to the Site of the Offerings where… Apaec, I’m terribly sorry to inform you… but your father was killed—” Apaec sat on the stool, staring at the ground in astonishment. “—They sacrificed him because they wanted his young, clean blood. You see, they drank his blood, and then fed upon… never mind that. The Cahuachi believe that in order to be chosen by the gods you must be clean—that is, worthy, for one must not carry iniquity in their bloodstream.
“For those inglorious hoodlums knew their souls weren’t nearly worthy enough to be chosen. That is why they drink the young blood. Do you understand? They need the unpolluted blood of the actual chosen spirits to mask the foul and contaminated blood that flows through them. That way, when the gods do arrive at the site, they are deceived by it, and they take the witches by mistake. They have been cheating the system all along! And, do you want to know how they get away with all of this? How they deceive even the great, all-knowing, mighty High Lord, Huiracocha?” He chuckled taking the last bite from his fruit, and continued, “This is the illicit work of Supay, the Unsavory God of Death.
“If Lord Huiracocha is indeed as all knowing as we claim, then why is he blinded from the Cahuachi doings? When the scoundrel of Supay drank the blood of his murdered brethren, he gained special powers which allowed him to affect the Four Quarters to a certain extent. He was able to affect the Four Quarters by … ………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………explain relationship between supay and cuhauachi-the benefits each party gains with their alliance. Cuhachi become gods, supay becomes supreme ruler of four quarters- rules the universe with the cuhachi as his minions on earth. explain how the gods do not see the dead bodies at site of offerings ………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………The Cuhuachi revealed their true heartlessness when they formed their alliance with Supay. The Cahuachi also sacrifice human offerings for Supay. They worship him, you see? He is blinding the gods from the evil doings of the Cahuachi. It’s his strategy to rid the Four Quarters of Huiracocha’s spirits. He wants to take power of The Four Quarters—to somehow utilize our spirits as agents to breach the heavens and ultimately overpower Huiracocha. In simple terms, the death servants sell their souls to Supay and become
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