wisdom comes easily after the fact. [trigger #61]

As it would turn out, it had been a bad idea for Duncan to hold the cat upside down with his hands around its belly. It started out as fun, the cat started getting more and more frustrated, it began making angry sounds. Duncan found the whole thing amusing.

That was when the cat started swiping angrily at Duncan’s face.

The large cat had huge claws, much more formidable than most other house cats. Still, even then he continued to dangle the cat, moving the cat away from his face when it swiped.

The cat had the last laugh though, timing its swipe to wait until Duncan was moving it closer to his face, then lashing with the sort of swiftness that spawned the adjective ‘catlike.’ It quite literally tore a chunk from the bridge of Duncan’s nose, stealing a piece of his face he would never get back.

He screamed and dropped the cat to the floor, moving his hands to his nose to catch the blood. In that moment he wondered why he’d thought it wise to hold the cat upside down to begin with. Wisdom comes easily after the fact.

appalachian mountains. [trigger #6.]

Ochuna expertly kicked the small ball of buckskin and dried mud. He hoped he had kicked it gently enough, and with enough arc, to land safely in the nest, but he knew the moment it left his foot that at least it would hit the goal post. One point was assured, but he was hoping for two. His village was winning 6-2, he could taste victory. He knew that being up 8-2, since they only played until 11, would be a nearly insurmountable lead, especially with one such as him on the team.

The ball floated through the air, and even though only fractions of a second were passing, it seemed he had all the time in the world to contemplate this moment. Time seemed to slow down when he played. He had always been the best player in his village. Even as a boy he was better than many of the men who’d been playing all their lives.

Ochuna, a nickname given to him for the god of thunder, truly felt like a god when he was able to run free, to kick his opponents hard enough to force the ball away, to expertly avoid the feet and fists and nails of the other village’s players. He had always loved this game, but it was even more important since the Spanish had come.

Much had changed since these men with their strange way of speech and action had come from across the ocean. Yet, this game was still sacred. All other life stopped when villages played each other in this game that has existed for as long as there have been men.

Ochuna was given a house, his crops were tended by other villagers, he was fawned over and celebrated; all because no one had feet as gifted as his, because no one could make or take a hit like him, because no one else played with thunder like Ochuna did.

He had a sick feeling in his gut much of the time now. The way the priests gazed with scorn over this wonderful game. They always had one hand gambling on the game’s outcome, with the other wagging in disapproval; saying the game is savage and immoral and godless. What do they know of godlessness? Didn’t they know of the connection with the gods one felt when he wasdoing the thing he was created to do?

Ochuna knew that nothing this beautiful, nothing that filled him with this much joy, could be godless. This game was beautiful, and as long as he was playing all other worries faded away.

It was always after the game that Ochuna felt the sickness in his gut. When he heard them giving a new name to his people… ‘Apalachee.’ The Spanish were even starting to call other villages, even the the land itself Apalachee. He’d heard stories of the Spanish exploring far to the north and calling the distant mountains Apalachee as well. These stories were most likely exaggerations by traders hoping to confound and impress, but they were troubling stories just the same.

He knew for sure that the Spanish had even killed those of neighboring villages in the past. They were not to be trusted.

Everything was changing. Everything but this game.

The ball landed in the nest. Two glorious points! He noticed as his many opponents gave him that familiar look of awe and contempt. 8-2. It won’t be long now until he can celebrate another impressive domination.

Forget the Spanish. What do they know of this beautiful game? This game of the gods themselves. What do they know of the beauty and power that is Ochuna. Nothing can touch him once they erect these sacred goal posts. He is Ochuna the proud. He is Ochuna the victorious. For these few, wonderful, exhausting hours Ochuna truly is overcome by the spirit of the god of thunder.

Ochuna smiles with untouched joy and takes off to inflict his thunder on another sorry ballcarrier.