Caballo De Los Dioses

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
This story is based on a true tale from old Mexico.

Submitted: July 25, 2017

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Submitted: July 25, 2017



The old man turned his weather grizzled face to toward Juan as he sat with attentiveness in the outdoor bamboo cafe. The diner had been a local gathering spot for well over fifty years in the little boarder town of El Obregon. People came here to talk, gossip, eat, drink and to play friendly gambling games of cards.

The local specialty was tres Tostitose con queso y guacomole, all served up nicely with the best in local ice cold Pulque' cerveza. The dust covered handmade alpaca hair, Navaho styled sombrero appeared as if it had wilted in the sweltering heat and sweat that rolled down the old gent's face from underneath the Spanish styled wide brimmed hat as he spoke..

Si mi joven amigo, many great men have tried to seize him through the ages, but no one has accomplished the feat, as of yet. The wind is in his mane, my gentle son, and El Diablo flows with power in his blood.”

“What motivates him, Mi Senor? What force serves to propel his determination in direction,” asked the youth?

“ The spirit of freedom, my son.. That fierce determination to prevail in one's own choice of direction.. That motivation into action that precipitates one's rise into glittering prosperity..,; or the determination to posses that enlightened spirit propels one to choose destruction when that precious breath is callously denied and the choices to be taken are only one,” spoke the old man in a low pitched, raspy voice, that carried the feeling of great experience and a life soon to end that had been lived out to the fullest.

“So then, good sir, why do men bother to even pursue? Why can't they just not leave him alone, allowing him to drift along upon the high plains, taking his abode in the sheltered cave scattered valleys of the Sierra Madre?”

“ dear son,” spoke the elder as he leaned closer to the astonished face of the youth . “There is another spirit that posses the soul of men, and that is the spirit of possession...the spirit of absolute control and repressive authority. This evil phantom is the sworn enemy of all freedom and positive pursuit, conjured up by the specter of creative industrious endeavor; and by its horrible basic nature the free may only choose to submit, or destruct by doing battle in the name of liberating determination.”

As the elder sat beside the boy speaking his words of aged wisdom, the boy gazed out from the seat of the cafe. He could see across the borderline of the small town, far out into the shimmering desert horizon beyond. In the yon distance he heard the wind sweep the standing cactus and mesquite scrub with sand, soon to pat his browning cheeks, and toss his unkempt hair across his forehead. With each puff of the wind he thought that he perceived the sound of a proud stallion, racing abroad into the wind, bearing the strength of youth and in full possession of freedoms delightful breath, determined to live according to his own will at all costs..

“Yes my dear one,” spoke the grizzled elder. “Thine ears hath not deceived you, for his voice hath now whispered it's sweet enrapturing song into thine ear, and that same spirit shall infect thy own heart along the way...It is presently infecting...possessing thy heart, thy impressionable mind, thy inexperienced body.., and very soon.., even thy innermost soul. Once ye lay thine eyes upon him, then ye shall never again be free from his spell. You shall be his, and him.., thine own obsession, until the very end.”

“Oh good Sir.., have there been others before me...,” inquired the youth?

“Many good men have fallen into his spell, motivated by that spirit of control that often times is enjoined hand-in-hand, with the spirit of lust and greed, the most base of man-kinds' motivating spectral possessions.”

“Did any man succeed,” inquired the youth?

“They only succeeded in the fact that they managed to locate and pursue; but my dear son do please understand, his spirit shall remain free forever.. Only the wind and the distant desert horizon shall own him....Only they and no other, until the day cometh that all time shall end as we know it. That day when the radiating sun shall be absorbed by the prevailing deity who proudly reigns supreme in all the universe, as he manifests himself on earth among mortal men. On that glorious day, my dear son, then and only then shall all evil be cast asunder, and the sheep and the oxen shall lieth with the jaguar, as the fawn does with the wild howling wolf pack. Then and only then will he choose to walk on earth among men, my dear son., only then, and never in no time before.”

“What became of those who tried, sir,” asked the gentle youth?

“Indeed they had fallen deeply underneath his coaxing spell, he possessing their very souls through their obsession with his form. They all could never cease in their vain pursuit, and he could never forgo the spirit of freedom and the destiny of uninhibited totally liberated choice, as he raced forward on the very wind surrounding him.

In each and every case the race only continued on., until his pursuers were completely absorbed...only to be discovered one dismal dreary day out on the wind and sand swept high plains.., their stiff dust enshrouded bodies discovered somewhere in a mangled heap, appearing as though they all had nearly been ripped into sad, blood soaked shreds by razor sharp hooves. On the far distance the wind always carried the voice of his song to the ears of his newly encouraged pursuers, only to vanish with the onset of the next pursuit.”

“How long has his song been riding on the wind, oh dear sir,” asked the youth?

“His song hath been carried in the wind for just as long as the eyes of men have gazed across the desert distance toward the Sierra Madrea, my dear son....They call him Caballo De Los Dioses...and his song rides for just as long as the ears of men have listened, and shall continue to listen for ever more. His soul is the thrilling spirit of newly acquired fortune, and his guiding sanctimony..., the direction of unrestrained destiny; and his name shall ride forward into eternity, for his shinning destiny is not of the pallid, shivering mortal, my dear son, but only of the glowing iridescent immortal .. For my dear amigo, he is not one of this world, but one of the world without.”

Deep down as the elder spoke those words into the gently puffing wind, the youth silently felt that he could somehow relate to the spirit of the wind stallion. He himself had been cast into the unforgiving world surrounding, only to drift about in his own unguided direction, determined to find his own way. His parents had both perished in a terrible automobile accident...his aunts, uncles and all of his relations overwhelmed by their own burdens so much so that they could not afford to take him in, or offer any supporting subsistence.

So he took his own support from the desert surrounding, and it was not all that bad in the beginning, since he dwelt still in the home of his parents. The day had came with a haunting surprise, however, when his siblings had vanished from the home following his return from the foraging fields. People around him informed him that they all had been abducted to live a forlorn life of drudgery in service to Los Senores, or to the ever dominating Zetas.

Their labors were always good and held in high esteem deep inside the processing facilities owned by these ruling authorities...; but once they were gone, they were never again to return home, because the demand was total dedication in service through their labor and life's direction..

Their eternal destiny from that moment forward was only to exist as chattels within a merciless grinding wheel that served only to extort all the fruits of their oppressing labor, in painful exchange for only the most meager in daily subsistence accommodation. In future years, maybe they would find their true restitution as fully developed soldiers serving the cartel, but the price for service was a destiny walk down a dead end road into bloody destruction.…

Within the gate of the repressive chattel there existed no path to true restitution, only a bloody forlorn end., and there existed no force or mortal being who could save them.., other than the immortal apparition of death himself. In their own end, they shall all find freedom in death.., They all shall find freedom in mortal life or in their own death, destined to die forever free...

Not only were they bound in physical body, but even in their immortal soul, for right along with their unfortunate situation, they were all even forced to pay homage to a strange alien deity in effigy called Mictlantecuhtli..a deity that was unknown to them by tradition or practice. In this manner they had not only been robbed of their present, but also their eternal future.., and of all their brilliant potential as well. The deteriorating situation did not end at this point, however.

So as he had recently discovered, his father had taken out a loan with the local extortionist who was employed by the Zetas. He worked at an office called Place' de tu fortuna, which was where dirty money was transformed into fortune redeemed. All of the people needing loans could come inside, no questions here were ever asked..., and find the blessed credit that they were so sorely in need of.

The entire town was mortgaged out to the cartel commandos; all of the farms, the houses, the automobiles, the tools and farm equipment. If due payment was withheld for any reason, first the extortionist sought even trade, be it land already payed off or family jewels...; but it may also be the father's very attractive wife that might be demanded for a few months.., or the brother's very young virgin sister. He had heard tales that even the young boys were not spared the same fate, but had no way of knowing the truth thereof. Most of the time, however, the intent was only for free labor and that was it, thanks be to buen Jesu's Cristos in el cielo.

When his parents had passed, the house payments had been forfeited. It was not that they did not want to pay, but that they had no way to pay the total amount demanded. All of them had left out into the surrounding town to labor in the shops and local gardens, but even the combined salaries were far to small to both sustain with food, utilities, taxes, extortion fees and mortgage payments.

Unfortunately all of the companies providing these goods and services were owned by the same extortionist groups. There was no way to win.., the price system was designed to hold the people in perpetual lifelong bondage. As the people all around here say, the only way out is con los pies apuntando al cielo.

All of his siblings were now held in perpetual bondage..When the first payment was forfeited and the utilities cut, the youth were rounded up to be delivered into some distant labor containment facility. According to the locals, the place of their containment was called abandonar toda esperanza, porque aqui si encuentra solo destitude y vuestra desgracia enteral, a colossal imposing electrified fence pen somewhere way out into the empty dismal far south west of Mexico. The house was then seized and soon resold at a discount to some out-of-town strangers, so he was told.

The real problem for him in all of this experience was that the Zetas knew of his existence, and had already placed a price for his abduction on his head. He knew well how to feed himself from the surrounding desert and how to find himself shelter. Before he was even informed, he also had come to realize the prevailing fact of his own persecution. His eyes had beheld the tracks of their pursuing agents..All of them had walked right on passed his shelter underneath the rock overhang in the direction of the Sierra Madrea..

But they could never find him, in-spite of the fact that they possessed all of the latest thermal imaging devices, and packs of snarling blood hounds...It was all really just a matter of how one chose to move around, being very careful to walk on hard surfaced ground and to cover the inside of structure dwellings with easily obtained polyethylene plastic, when possible. It really was astounding as to just how simple it all was for a determined person to slip right on passed them.

On many occasion, he would go hunting for goat high up in the Sierra Madre, knowing by virtual instinct not to take the same trail out that he used to come in on. Deep down inside his gut he held the nauseating feeling that he was being pursued, so he would always trap set his uphill trail.

His favorite set up was to create a debit in the dirt or stone, place a tied stick crafted V over an elevating stone. The small end of the V would lie underneath a larger heavier stone, which was well wrapped with old three thirty seconds black rubber coated copper electrical wire. This wire ran to a hair trigger roller support on a concealed platform high overhead that held dozens, if not hundreds of multi-sized but very heavy stones. The entire set up would then be perfectly camouflaged, laying in wait until the pursuer dared to tread.

On many occasions, from a far safe distance he would stand and observe the resulting corpse of the pursuing man who had stumbled into his set. On one occasion he had even managed to slay an entire pursuing platoon! This act placed his arrest onto the very top of Los Zetas' dreaded errand list. Even so, not even one of the organizations after him had any idea as to what his appearance was. That was how he managed to drop into town from time to time, to work, buy food, and to take shelter underneath overlooked porch structures or inside abandoned shacks on the outskirts of town. There was a price on his head, dead but preferably alive, so he had heard. Still he took the chance.., the simple thrill of the potential danger and the joy found in the future bonfire revel in his escape..., was much more than he could withhold from, for he was well aware that the odds for his success were with him.

“Does the spirit stallion have a price,” asked the youth to the elder, who knew nothing of the youth's name, as far as he knew?

The elder raised an ice covered bottle of beer to his lips, tilted his head backward, then relaxed the bottle down before giving reply to the youth.

Oh yes, according to word on the street, some thirty doubloons in solid gold, my dear son. The stallion has been labeled a criminal in need of containment..., or even worse. The local extortionist, El Hombrey Malo, has publicly declared it so, just recently.”

“Thirty golden doubloons,” gleefully shouted the youth? “Why that would purchase a simple house, for sure...”

“Aye, mi dear amigo, and many more simple houses..., with much more left to spare..”

The youth hesitated in deep thought....

“What would it take...”

The youth continued to hesitate...

“ to ransom an enslaved laborer?”

“I dare say...,” replied the grizzled elder, “that one could still have enough remaining to ransom an entire family of enslaved laborers...”

The youth spoke not, but only gazed out into the desert beyond, trying hard not to betray any emotion, but yet still sensing the old man's gifted intuition, gasping as he stared through wide eyes toward the distant Sierra Madrea. The force within provoking him was that of necessity, but unknown to him, soon that force would transform into powerful compulsion...Only he and the power of his conscious mind could refrain the force from transforming into the driving might of obsession and greed.

“What does he look like,” inquired the youth?

The old man laughed gently, taking another hearty drink from the dark brown bottle that he held in his labor scared, sun grizzled right hand.

“They say that he is shinny black as midnight, my dear lad..His eyes..., so they say..., as red as hearth side coals glowing within the enveloping twelfth striking darkness. So it is said, that he never appears in the light of day...only while enshrouded within the thickest blanket of darkness. On the distance one can hear the rumble of his hooves, and feel the frightening enrapture of his thunder song. Then his piercing demon eyes shall give him away from all of the others.., his piercing eyes and the melody of his proud song.. When pursued, he only rides away on the mid night wind, taunting his pursuers with the enrapturing magic of his song.”

He spent a bit more time sitting and speaking with the elder about current events throughout town, desert jack rabbits and the best method of catching one, and the road runners who tend to be attracted by the dazzling menagerie of the cactus coo coo. Then it was time to amble on, he decided in silence, as he noticed the brilliant orb of the sun easing down toward the distant mountains on the horizon.

He shoved his right hand into this pocket, feeling a hand full of lose change and nine larger round pesos. As he arose and ambled westward, toward the sinking sun, he paused before the elderly lady at the fruit stand, carefully purchasing nine green apples. He knew what the task was that he must complete, just as sure as the sun would rise tomorrow from the direction of the distant sea. The lady placed the apples into an oil saturated brown paper bag, and the boy ambled on from the town toward the mountains on the horizon and the sinking sun.

Tonight would be as many another night..., he would only amble out of town, on passed the ragged, shattered hard surfaced road that ran on passed the town and out into the forbidding sand swept cactus splattered desert to the north and the south. East and west was where the scorching sun rose and set from, coming to rest somewhere comfortably behind the Sierra Madre.

Halfway between this road and the Sierra Madre in the distance, was a huge hollow stone that bulged outward from beneath the surface of the earth. Here he would make his bed and temporary abode for the evening and the following remainder of the week. Normally morning would find him still resting snugly inside his bedroll, but not this coming morning.., for he was to be up and out, ambling with a strong gait toward the Sierra Madre. He had an obligating task to full-fill.

He awoke and arose to stand outside. According to the position of the little dipper in relation to the north star, he estimated that the time was approximately 0330 in the morning. The gentle coolness of the morning desert wind blew in steady puffs, causing his body to chill as he walked. He did not want to leave the toasty comfort of his bedroll, but he was compelled to by this newly discovered desire deep within. He scanned the air with his ears as he walked, nearing the Sierra mountains that still lay in the sandy desert distance. He thought that he detected the low rumble of hooves on the wind, but he could never be absolutely sure. According to what he had been told, if morning found him first, before he discovered the magic spirit stallion, the singing horse would vanish from all mortal eyes until the enveloping darkness of the following nightfall.

He continued to search the surrounding air with his ears and the landscape around with his eye, but with the dim light of the dawning day enlightening the surrounding area, he knew that he had failed in the endeavor on this first night out.

Ahead of him at the base of the rising landscape and the natural entrance way leading directly into the rising mountains, he beheld a large area of clover splattered with happy nourishing calcimine and violets that graced the foot of the gradual upward slope. He strained his eyes to the point that his head throbbed.... He thought that he had finally found what he had been in search area within and surrounding that had apparently been stomped out by the hooves of wild horses. He was well aware that the herd of horses could be one of a number completely void of the midnight spirit stallion, but there was no way of knowing unless he could entice the horses to remain stationary, so that they might be observed in their natural herd.

He reached into the lard oil saturated paper bag, gingerly retrieving three of the nine apples that he had thought to carry along. Carefully he placed the three into the center of the large clover patch, right where the fresh horse sign displayed the most. Surly if spirit stallion was ever here, he will return, and he will certainly return again once he had discovered and tasted of these lush crunchy apples.

“My gift to you, spirit stallion” spoke Juan as he placed the three green apples into their proper position in the center of the clover. “Come now, and freely take.”

Behind a large boulder that jutted from the earth he took his position, opening his eyes only to be greeted by the glowing bright light of the new day. He ambled over toward the center of the clover patch, only to discover the three apples laying exactly as they had been placed..Juan inhaled a deep breath, looking ahead toward the distant horizon, glancing above toward the clear empty blue sky, and then back down toward the apples...

“Another day shall come, spirit stallion..., another day...”

He turned from the entrance way back toward the desert and the town in which he had walked away from earlier. On his way back, he paused at the hollow stone, carefully laying the bag filled with the remaining apples back in to the hollow of the stone. He would eventually make his way back into town. He may purchase an enchilada or a fresh tamale with a couple of the pesos that remained. A good fruit soda would serve to faithfully wash the food down.

Here in town there would be shade from the sweltering sun and plenty of half interesting company. Maybe he could find the same elder as he did earlier, who would tell him more stories of the spirit stallion, or maybe he would run into another who would tell him new stories about the horse...stories unlike any that he had heard thus far. Better yet, maybe there was a secret to finding him, some secret just waiting for him to discover, then his worries and anticipation would all subside! Certainly his success would then be just a matter of time.

He casually walked over to the enchilada stand with the smiling young girl running it who was just a few years older than himself.

“Chicken or beef,” she asked as she gleefully lifted the perfectly clean covering cloth on the large silver platter on which the enchiladas had been neatly stacked?

“I'll take beef, please and a beef tamale, if you have one.”

“You know that I always do,” replied the girl with a smile.

“and they are always the very best,” replied Juan, with special emphasis on the word best! “How much?”

“Normally I would ask a peso a piece for these, but since it is you that I am selling to...I guess that I will just accept one peso for both,” replied the cheerful girl.

“Don't tell anybody, but one day I will come buy every one of them...You'll see..,” replied Juan.

“I'll be right here, as I always have been. Where are you planning to go there, Juan, across the northern border, into the land of golden plenty? I have heard that the streets there are literally paved with pure gold...and it rains diamonds and pearls,” spoke the girl with a wide smile.

“Not really, but who knows? Anything is possible with me these days,” laughed the youth.

“Well if you can swim, run and hide with great skill, then you just might make it across. My great uncle says that one does not really even have to be able to do all of that. The boarder guards do not even really care, since the corporations there are using us to subvert the established wage base and weaken both the effectiveness and power of the labor unions.

He says that he has literally seen guards simply look the other way as they obtrusively swam the Rio Grande. He says that the corporations are giving the guards an additional monthly stipend that is three times greater than the greatly reduced pay that remains in the guard's hand; in lieu of the excessive tax, extorted insurance fees and the extorted back end fees for energy use. So he says, the face of poverty is appearing even up there, but still there is excessive wealth remaining, depending on one's specific location.

Over there, he says, the gangster cartel are in charge of the entire government, not the common men down the street. For those reasons, the boarder guards are only delighted to accommodate the large corporation's labor needs. This oversight, however, seems to go and come with the changing of the day. None of them could ever determine a consistent pattern, or as to exactly why it was all so in the first place.”

She spoke the words as she carefully chose and placed the boys' order into another lard oil saturated brown paper bag.

“Well then, like I said earlier, who knows? If they have a need and the pay that I require, then we might be able to work something out,” replied Juan with a smile and a quick laugh.

He slowly made his way back toward the bamboo diner where he was seated the day before in the company of the wise elder. He took his seat in the same chair at the same table, and began to snack on his lunch. As he walked from the enchilada stand to the diner, he had thought to pick up an ice cold refreshing bottle of fruit soda. The price was only half a peso, so he still had plenty remaining for the next three days or even more. He sat quietly eating his lunch as the people paced by to and fro.

Soon Jose', a local herdsman, paused to have a seat. He was only approximately four years older than Juan, and had already amassed a herd of goats and sheep some three hundred strong. He specialized in meat, leather, and according to local reports, some of the best in breeding stock. His young lambs were fetching some of the highest returns in the local market. He eased his tall body down into the seat two chairs over from Juan.

“Well hello, mi amigo! Como estas,” he said as he smiled into Juan's direction?

“Hollo, muy bien! I have not seen you here in a long time, my friend,” replied Juan.

“True, I spend my time out on the plains with my herd, making my leather and preserving my meats. What about yourself?”

“Well I am here and there,” replied Juan. “I work in town here, and other places.”

“I understand, my friend. I am a wanderer of sorts my self. I go from this desert into that one. I always travel most by the light of the moon and stars. I do this to avoid the extortion fees directed specificity to business people who make use of natural resources in the deserts. Los Seniores want a fee to cross into El Canyon, Los Zetas want their fee to cross into El mar de arena.

I avoid the extortion fees by traveling at night and taking shelter in the mountain valleys for days, sometimes even weeks. So I understand....the penalty for avoiding the fees is death by fire, if I am ever captured; or more than likely, death by beheading, since they love to display the heads of their victims on poles sitting by the ragged dust swept roadsides, with broad cards tacked to the poles just underneath the head, bearing large letters that display their violations to any who may pass by on the local roads. I guess that they make their point loud and clear, my friend,” spoke Jose' with a glint in his eyes, and a slight laugh in his voice.

“Without a doubt,” replied Juan. “How have you managed to avoid them?”

“I watch for signs in the animals who dwell in the landscape around me. The eagle flying high has a way of shortening his broad circles when danger is approaching. The deer race into my direction from abroad. The desert cactus warbler makes his very nervous call, always alerting the observant, my dear friend.The ground hogs suddenly and without warning, race into their holes and remain there, without surfacing. Few realize it, but they posses the ability to sense vibrations from afar, way out beyond the range of human senses. But I have another friend who always alerts me amigo.., and I dare say that he is the truest friend that any man of the desert can posses.”

“Tell me about this man, I want to hear..,” replied Juan in earnest.

“He is not a man, my friend. He is known as the midnight ghost of the Sierra winds. He runs free with the sky herd. He is lord over this herd, my friend.., just like he is lord of the desert vastness and the Sierra Madre'.”

“What does he look like, Jose',” inquired Juan?

“Just as perfectly black as midnight, my dear Juan. Some say that he is a part of the midnight, but a part that lives and thrives within as it is one that is merely just a piece of it.”

“Have you seen him,” asked Juan?

“Indeed I have, my friend. I have neared him close enough that I have actually laid my hand upon his perfect neck, moving my hand downward to feel his sleek fur. My very fingers have combed through his mane with a respectful gracefulness that rivals even that of a man and his most talented female lover.”

Juan suddenly alighted with a fresh excitement at Jose's informing words.

“Please tell me more, my dear friend....How did you near him to that point? Where might I find him,” asked Juan to the point that he feared appearing to beseech?

“Tonight is the crescent moon, but the night of a special crescent moon.., a moon that shall hex the midnight spirit stallion as it shall the entire natural world. It is called the bleeding crescent moon, for it shall literally bleed red as blood on the exact time of the twelfth striking, right there before the eyes of the entire world to see, although virtually none but the most astute shall manage to do so, and fewer heed the extending word.

According to both the Navaho and the Apache prophets, both the old and those that live to this very day, the blood of this moon shall foretell the dawning of a new brotherhood between men and nature, a forthcoming brotherhood where evil shall pass and men shall sit at the table of union as a single unit, both with one another and the natural world..All fear and trepidation shall pass soon, my friend, all fear and reasons to fear shall part from the mortal earth soon.., very soon. Soon.., and very soon, my good friend., all of the saints shall hail the glorious celestial manifestation, offering forth their yearning hearts, minds, body, and their very souls...”

“Tell me more, my friend...please tell me more…!,” inquired Juan in yearning pleading gasps that neared to the point of weeping.

“Go back out toward the Sierra Madrea, my friend. Go to the place of the clover there in the great hidden entrance way into the illustrious enchanted range of majestic mountains. At the twelfth striking he will appear there in the center of the clover, guarding his precious haunting herd. When the moon begins to bleed, he will be much more apt tonight to allow one to approach.

Be extremely careful in your approach, my friend, for many have done so, only to become immediately enraptured as their very souls were possessed by the evil ghosts of self serving domination, lust and greed...Please, my dear one, do not allow this possession of your unadulterated soul to take place! The majestic enrapturing beauty of his form carries with it in company, the bane three apparitions, who ride the winds with the midnight stallion in search of new souls to possess and mortal bodies to lead into undignified destruction, thereby sealing for all eternity, the forlorn fate of their weeping spiritual being.”

“Give me more of this sacred instruction,” my dear friend..” inquired Juan.

“When the stallion shall appear tonight, just before the twelfth striking, carry the other six apples...; for your subconscious elements have instructed your mind to begin with the required sanctified nine already, and the ghost winds have whispered this knowledge unto me, my dear one..I know that he has already accepted thy gift of the precious three.

Unbeknownst to you, the apples were procured from the orchard high atop shadow mountain, the exact point upon the very alter in which the astounding Apache prophetess, Sapientissimo, consulted with the ancient spirit gods, to seek divine instruction before making great flaming war upon the Spanish and the Mexicans, effectively driving them from their cherished place of enchantment for all eternity.”

“Go then, into the place of the clover with the precious remaining sacred six. Approach very slowly with the next three, for the magic stallion shall recall thy former gift, of which he hath already graciously accepted. He shall not deny thy gift because he shall recall the sanctity of the former three.

Approach very slowly, my dear friend,.... very slowly...., place thy hand upon his sleek majestic fur which shall radiate forth glowing sapphire sparks in the midnight breeze, further indicating that his form is more that of sanctified specter than of mortal physical flesh and fur. As you offer the hallowed gift, whisper words of contentment and good cheer into his ear..Tell him thy name and that you come unto him in peace, and in the name of eternal brotherhood.

For it is said, my dear friend, that if he accepts fully your gifts and the absolute truth in your words, and you demonstrates the strength in your character unto him, by refusing the persuading temptations of the bane three, then you may merge as a single spiritual unit with him, and ride forth into eternity upon the ghost wind into the radiating glorious realm of holy apparitions, to enjoy the pleasures of celestial Elysium for a most blessed infinity.”

“Gracious adiose, mi bueno amigo.. mucho gracious,” whispered Juan as he bowed respectfully in warm gratitude.

“I must return into the desert to guard my flocks, my friend. If you ever near my pasture, then feel free to pause and converse, and enjoy the luscious nectar potions conceived from the high desert cactus flowers gathered using hand harvesters crafted from long lodge pole pines.”

“And that I shall do, my dear the near future,” replied Juan in gracious farewell.

As his dear friend made his way back out into the forbidding desert sands, he glanced back toward the sun, which had commenced it's downward decent back into it's nest somewhere behind the majestic Sierra Madre. On the inside, the desire to behold the stallions dominating form was increasingly becoming more than just an inner longing, but now more a deep inner compulsion that was bordering on obsession, even though his eyes had yet to even as much as get a single glimpse.

He arose from his seat, beginning an aimless walk through the town just to get his mind free of the thought. He glanced toward the smiling faces of the girls his own age as he walked passed, who always nodded toward him saying; Ven aqui, mi amigo, vamos ahacer negocios..tengo frutas, carnes y herramientas, utiles para la venta!

Then as he passed the long line of shops, soon finding himself out in the streets, he noticed the stern rugged blank faces of elders who said nothing, but were just sitting around in idle wastefulness and hopelessness, waiting to pass on into eternity, embracing eternal relief from the pain of living.

As he ambled along the partially paved but very shattered road, just passed the wasting elders, small groups of very well dressed young women would appear from amid the concrete rubble structures bunched up tightly along either side of the road. Their faces seemed to be painted up with make up that appeared more as a reluctant cake icing, than any sort of artistic inspired work.

As he neared them they would all gather about as they yelled: Ven aqui, mi gran hombre...De'jame ser tu mujer por la noche!

When he ambled on passed without returning any comment to their gracious offerings, they would reply, speaking in harsh tones; Asi es, usted nino, vas de vuelta a casa a su madre!

Every now and then, a very enraged voice would yell; Si necesita romper alli hijo, puedo mostrarle lo que un hombre de verdad se siente como!

Most of the time, he would simply just hold his head down, staring at the dust and rubble strewn road beneath his sandal shod feet, never even bothering to glance up at the painted faces who yelled the provoking comments. Up ahead on passed the painted girls and young women, loomed the sun hardened face of a security man, donned in desert camouflage wear and slim jet black leather combat boots. Across his left shoulder was slung a fully automatic AR-15, with the filled maxi cartridge tightly inserted and more than three more tucked away in his thigh pockets. Crisscrossing his shoulders were two leather belts filled with brand new 223 cartridges of shinny glittering brass.

The man gazed out upon him with hard observing eyes, as if he were attempting to peer deep into his very soul. As he neared him, he immediately noticed the large intimidating tattooed Z on both sides of the man's exposed neck. Juan's heart nearly stopped beating inside his breast, but he swallowed the shock and attempted to appear undaunted by the sudden observation. The man closely observed his every move as he passed, but did nothing more than that, as far as Juan could see.

Up ahead was a narrow road that branched to the right, without glancing back, he made a hard right, then cut back again to the left on farther down, moving to get out of the commando's line of sight, but hoping to do so without being obvious, walking along at a normal casual pace. Ahead of him loomed the edge of the town and the desert vastness.

Even now as he ambled along, he could make out the tall, flowering cactus and the rolling tumble weed on the horizon. He crossed the boarder of the town as the descending sun seemed to touch the top of the mountains in the distance.

As he moved toward the falling sun and the mountains beyond, the town the desert environment felt as if it were consuming him. The town seemed far behind now, so with the falling sun to his face giving him effective cover and serving to enrich his hindsight, he glanced backward toward the town and the street in which he had last traveled.

In the distance, about a third of the way from the edge of the town limits, but back into town, he could see the faint, but clearly obvious figure of a man wearing camouflage, paused stoically as if he were attempting to observe. He knew that the light of the sun blinded the man, offering him excellent concealment, but he was also aware that the man had intuitively suspected that he had intentionally ambled off into the falling sun. It would only be a logical assumption that a person on the run would always determine the time in which he was to travel, then position his hide away in the direction east or west of the nearest population center, in order to take advantage of the sun by traveling toward town with it to his back and traveling away from town with it shining into his face but illuminating his backward glance.

Some people are even known to head out of the population center in a western direction in the evening, then swing out into east after dark. Not only does this take advantage of the rising sun for cover, but it also allows one to make use of creative trickery, if he suspected that he was being pursued. Everyone knows these tricks, if he knows the outdoors. To be safe, he was forced to assume that the man observing was knowledgeable as well. To ensure his own safety, he must anticipate his own pursuit and serve to trick the agent sent to arrest him, in lieu of that anticipation.

Tonight he would relocate from the hollow boulder, going high into the Sierra Madre to find a place where he might observe the direction of his former lodging, anticipating the emergence of his own pursuers. He could now already see that tonight was definitely going to be a special night for more reasons than just one.

By the time that he had entered into the mountain causeway, the sun had slipped just behind the mountain summit. There was still enough light so see, and in reality, since he was now on the dodge from possible pursuers, now was probably the best time for him to be out. He had paused in passing by his former place of abode, the hollow boulder, retrieving his bedroll and a homemade back pack fulled with possibles that he had collected in his wandering. He had a well worn jack knife, a hone that he had picked up by the creek side, a nice flint and a piece of steel, some fish hooks and line. He had also been lucky enough to find a ripped out fishing net, with a twelve by twelve section that was still very useable. A partial machete was good to keep around as well; all of this he bore with him in the home stitched pack bag crafted from a pair of worn out jeans that someone had discarded along the way, mounted on willow sticks that had been tied together using copper wire to form an A frame. This simple design allowed for a fairly comfortable back pack to transport his newly acquired items, and more that were surely yet to come. These items were very precious to him and some that he never wanted to be without.

He moved forward ahead toward the rising base at the foot of the first mountain. There about a hundred feet upward or so, was a noticeable crag. It must be very deep, and may even conceal a meadow valley within, as they are sometimes known to do. From that crag it also appeared that he would have a clear view of the flat desert floor back in the direction of the town and his old abode. There he could observe clearly without ever being observed. The perfect place for a person on the run..

He carefully walked the gradual rise until it became steep enough that the walk transformed into a strenuous climb. Soon he had made his way upward upon what had appeared from the lower heights, as being a narrow summit ridge, but in reality was a fifty feet wide, more or less, grass covered rim. The area that appeared as a crevice was in reality a ridge going up and down with areas that cut deeply back at an angle into the side of the mountain.

Not only did this area create an extremely nice secluded area to make home, it was perfectly concealed from the view of the outside, but yet allowing him to have a complete view before him and to the far right, back toward the city and his old place of abode. In the distance, along the flat plain of the desert floor, he could just about make out exactly where the boulder was that he had lived in. As a matter of fact, he thought that he really could make out the rise in the floor which concealed the boulder from his complete view. From his high position, the area only appeared to be a few hundred yards out, but in reality, it stood more than four miles from his straining eyes. When his head commenced to throb, he would remove a child’s toy metal binoculars that he had picked up from a trash heap near the center of the town. They were not the real thing by far and away, but they were better than nothing at all. To tell the very truth about it, they performed almost as well as some real binoculars that he had looked through in the past. When he zoomed in on the rise, sure enough, he could determine definitively that the place was indeed his former place of abode. Soon nightfall would be here, so he lay his supplies inside the slanting debit, and he commenced to gather wood for his night fire and construct a raised platform for his bedding.

Upon completing his raised bedding platform and procuring the necessary materials for making a home inside the large debit, he eased backward to relax upon the stone crevice wall. Before him he had lain twelve lodge pole pine saplings at an angle up against the stone wall of the large debit. In between theses he could weave the branches and vines as well as other boughs that the had collected, until it formed a tightly packed wall between himself and the cold night air coming inside from the mountains without. A nice mesquit fire dancing before him in a predetermined place where it would remain invisible from the outside, would more than aptly set the atmosphere within. Soon it was just a matter of waiting, waiting until the eleventh hour just before twelfth striking. His only clock would be the little dipper and it's position in relation to the north star, which was almost like that of a clock and it's hands. In the distance he could hear the tenner barking howl of a coyote pack on the stirring night wind...Every now and then, he could make out the low pitched howl of a wolf, with the others soon chiming in to remind one that there was a pack of wolves about, and not just a single one...Others were on the hunt besides his most direct and dangerous enemies...but he had much less to fear from the wolves and coyotes than the men who were in pursuit of him.

Time seemed to pass quickly...more quickly than it should have. Maybe he had just fallen asleep, he did not know for certain. He glanced up at the little dipper, taking notice that it was nearing the exact opposite direction from where it had been positioned at the onset of darkness. According to true time, it was now eleven o’clock approximately. He must head outward now, deep into the forbidding darkness, to arrive at the place of the clover patch deep inside the natural gateway into the majestic Sierra Madre. Somewhere along the way while he was in town earlier, he had picked up a leather throng and a hand sized piece of leather which he had trimmed into a functional shape. He had cut two slits into either side of the diamond shaped patch. He passed the leather through these slits, being very careful to tie a small loop into one end of the string, effectively crafting a nice, deadly throwing sling. Although making these things as a young kid served the purpose of owning a toy, now it was lethal business. With a smooth stone picked up from the desert floor, he could throw the fatal projectile a hundred yards with a fair amount of accuracy. He had actually knocked goats down from time to time, stunning them with this weapon, only to be dispatched with a throat slash of his jack knife blade. Surly he could slay a man, if he needed to do so. With his knife and his grim sling, he headed into the thick blanket of darkness, making his way toward the clover patch. Little was he aware of at the time, but he was crossing from the realm of early youth, into the realm of strong budding manhood.

He walked with a high stepping, firm but very brisk pace. His tendency now was to propel his body forward from the ball of his foot, in tiptoe stepping fashion. By turning his feet inside as he stepped, not only could he move with a very brisk stride, but more importantly, he had trained himself to move about in near absolute silence, just like the deer and the leaping desert antelope. Matter of fact, he had taught himself the tactic of walking from watching these animals as a young child. Soon he crested a scrub covered rise that preceded the natural gateway and the clover patch. He scanned the dark area before him, straining his ears on the wind, listening and looking for sign of the spirit stallion, but he heard nothing. He glanced upward into the clear starlit sky, beholding the crescent moon, but one of brilliant golden yellow rather than bleeding rouge. According to ancient legend, the bleeding crescent moon, among everything else, would herald the coming of a massive earth quake that was destined to remove the corrupting curse and scar of men from upon the face of the earths most cherished, sacred areas. It was a heavenly sign that the earth was becoming angered by the careless self serving actions of men.

Then abruptly, his ears caught the astonishing sound....A hoof chopping into the sand....A horses long snort...He strained his eyes before the direction from which the sounds came. A dark figure appeared to move, then his eyes caught a shining glint in the starlight...he gasped for breath. He must have made a sound as he gasped, for suddenly the figure reared upright, and he beheld the backward thrown figure of a dark horses' head, and his ears beheld a proud stallion's mighty song. When his forefeet were replaced back upon the earth, he tossed his head, snorting in Juan's direction repeatedly as he did so..

El Caballo De Los Deosis, Juan whispered quietly into the wind in the direction of the stallion. “Esta noche eres mia,” he continued to whisper. “I am like you, we are one in the same...True, no man may own you outright, but one may own you as you own him....“Esta noche sera' propietaria de uno a otro” The majestic stallion continued to paw the sand with his hoof, slinging his head and snorting in Juan's direction. Juan arose from his concealed place, gently easing in the direction of the stallion...very quietly walking on the ball of his feet in near total silence with three green apples in his rolled bandana carry bag. The stallion reared again, standing proud and tall upon his hind legs, singing his proud boisterous song into the night wind of the desert surrounding. His feet came to rest again on the desert floor...

“You may be one of the spirit world, qey el ray de los caballos salvajes, but unlike the average man, I am of that same spirit, destined with you only to return into that same world, but as one with you,” whispered Juan into the wind as he crept closer. Clearly he could behold the stallion as he proudly stood in the moonlight there on the clover before him. The feeling that coursed through his veins was more like that of him beholding a majestic god, than just a stallion. His heart began to race...and the stallion stood completely motionless..

In the silence of his mind he caught himself, for the spirit of possession bore down hard in the pit of his heart. But the desire to obtain, to control what was perceived to be uncontrollable...was far more powerful than his gentle mind had ever perceived in the past. Ahead in distance, born seemingly from the glinting moonlight itself only to stand right beside the stallion, two apparition appeared standing, then commenced to float in the direction of the young man. No matter how much Juan resisted, the tauntingly gleeful apparition transcended the narrowing distance, entering into the body and soul of the young man. As they did so, the stallion reared again as lightening slashed the moonlit sky, and the sound of the midnight stallion rang so sweet and loud on the desert midnight wind, that it seemed every ear on earth was captivated by the enrapturing music.

Juan gritted his teeth, saying into the wind as the thunder roared. “The spirits of greed and possession may have forcefully entered into my mortal body, but they will never capture my soul..For my soul is that of my own, and it is only mine to posses and the domain of no other, but that of my own...”

Juan neared the stallion up very close, who seemed strangely calm all of a sudden. In his left hand he held the sacred apple...easing it close to the lips of the stallion, who eagerly accepted. With his right hand he ran his fingers through the stallions hypnotizing mane..On this very moment, he knew that there was no turning back...He was totally consumed by the touch, by the sleek feel and the look perceived clearly in the glow of the moonlight. He glanced high over his left shoulder, beholding the brilliance of the yellow it slowly bled a haunting blood colored rouge..Lightening flashed and thunder rolled on a strangely clear, starlit desert sky. As the pace of the midnight wind increased, he beheld the chanting voices of ancient native prophets that combined with the wind, who had foretold the night and the stories of the elders who had carried the message of the prophets onward through the succeeding generations. Though he battled the powerful urge with all of his might, he could never resist the desire to merge with the events, rather than battle against it. The urge to battle against it bore the signature of mortal weakness, the weakness inspired by the evil spirits of repressive control, and self serving possession. As the voice of the prophets sang aloud on the midnight wind, he desired more to merge with the events, than simply to posses it's sacred manifestation. His hands stroked the sleek coat of the midnight stallion, like an enraptured lover he allowed his fingers to stroke the hair of the stallions mane, as he spoke words of compassion into the twitching ward..

“Just allow me, oh great one, to ride proudly as you feel the wind as you feel no other mortal has been allowed to..Is it not right, oh great one of the high plains...thou Lord of the midnight wind, for two born of the same spirit, to move about as a single unit?”

The stallion remained motionless....motionless as though he agreed with the endearing words that Juan was speaking so elegantly into his twitching ears...The entire earth now seemed completely motionless, as though they were awaiting the most spectacular moment. The desert mice never moved, the coyotes or wolves hushed their howling...the entire mortal earth paused and waited for the enrapturing moment to emerge..Juan fed the stallion the remaining five apples who eagerly received them. As the stallion consumed the last one from Juan’s left hand, with his trembling right hand he gently seized the stallions' mane. With the grace of a professional gymnast, he swung his torso into graceful position into the back of the midnight stallion. As he did so the wind abruptly quickened it's pace, the thunder rolled across the empty desert stillness, only to echo enchantingly upon the mountain vastness. Now the crescent moon was completely blood red..only the haunting chanting voices of those ancient prophets rode loudly and proudly on the desert wind. With the clash of thunder sang the shrill chant of Sapientissimo above all others as she loudly proclaimed the return of the ghost warriors and the thundering herds of buffalo. The earth itself would rebel against it's ungrateful plunder by the Anglo, the Spanish and even his own authorities, the Mexicans. Tonight however, he was born again, for his spirit destiny was not to lay among the forlorn oppressors, but to stand tall among the proud and free..To live according to his own direction...even if it means to stand strong to sacrifice his own mortal body in the name of absolute spiritual freedom. So it means to live among the eternally free..., even if the price to pay for insisting on that freedom is to die, forever free. Paying that price is so much better than the looming alternative, which is only to dwell in total subjugation to an extortionist few, who bear the power to render all mortal life into a destitute meaningless existence at best. Not his life, he now determined in the light of the blood moon..., as of tonight, never his life...for free eternity was his timeless immortal destiny..

The spirit stallion reared, releasing his song onto the prevailing desert wind. As Juan's body became seated upon his solid back, the stallion raced with the streaking of lightening that strangely transformed from the color of pale sapphire into a haunting lavender of the reigning gods. The midnight stallion raced with great strength and endurance throughout the mountain peeks, onto the high stone alter of Shadow Mountain. On the summit in the distance against the midnight sky of flashing sapphire and haunting lavender, his eyes beheld the dominating figure of Sapientissimo clothed in the luminescent robe of an ancient Apache priestess, pointing forward and yelling in a voice of falling river and roaring wind to the stallion, instructing him to ride forward into the world of men, so that they might know that the time of the prophesied sacred coming hath now arrived.

Proudly and tirelessly the stallion galloped, seeming to race forward with the desert wind...on down the mountain side out into the desert sands, never faltering or growing wane in the race, but only increasing in vigor with each rolling clap of the midnight thunder. The fire in the desert sky, roll of the thunder, the chanting voices on the wind...were all just enough to consume the soul of the youth as he merged spiritually as one with the wind stallion. He did not know where the race would end, but then again, he did not care, he was just consumed in complete joy by the rhythm of the sanctified ride..and the thrill of the moment. Up and down the mountains did the stallion race with the desert night wind, finally coming down into the desert floor, continuing to race onward with the wind across the sand. Soon they raced toward the distant limits of El Mazateca, bringing lightening fire of brilliant ice blue, blush and blood rouge. The awakened towns people raced from their slumbering berth, many seizing their weapons of fire and lead, or bows and arrows, taking wasted shots at the spirit stallion who raced directly into their very midst, they then only melting backward into a consuming fear. As they raced through the town, the chanting voice of the reigning prophetess declaring on the wind that their water would run as thick blood, and that the town would be consumed by hoards of desert ratton and putrid moscas in their wake, for the prevailing evils of their inhabitants.

In what felt like an instant the ghostly figures of a midnight horse and a man rode on, vanishing back out into the desert sands in the night. Continually they passed through the habitations of men, forward on into the town of Rio El Jimenez, the gathering hoards of awakened townspeople gasping as the ghostly figures transcended through their limits. As they rode proudly onward, the townspeople could only stand idly by and whisper among themselves “Who was he, and what was the purpose of his coming?”

In what felt like moments they were passing through the limits of Llanura De Flores Celestials, truly a most beautiful town within it's own rights, but one who's domination was given over to evil men through the prevailing weakness of their inhabitants. For that weakness and lack of precious fortitude, they were all destined to suffer horribly.

Following their exit from the limits of the desert town, they made their way back out into the vast sands, on forward for miles now in the direction of the slightly dawning sun. This time they were heading in the direction of La Ciuadad De La Liberacio'n Mortal, the most corrupted and debauched city in the realm of mortal men. Here, it was in this place of dazzling contrasts, of flower menagerie, comforting pool side weeping willows and majestic blossoming arbor along side of comforting water side gazebo...,all encompassed within the world of forbidding wind swept desert sand, that men went about masquerading as women and women as men, each only living to serve the tarnished desire of himself, in complete disregard of the celestial divine. Huge ceremonial crowds gathering in taunting festivity, taking jaded pleasure in great insult to El Dios Divino, before the great master of the universe to perform their jaded matrimony for the entire earth to bear witness. It was here that the figure of a man and a midnight stallion made their most triumphant passing with the emergence of the dawning Adonis, radiating it's warm embracing arms throughout the sand swept vastness, heralding a birthing redeeming day to come.

The vast murmuring crowds gathered all throughout as searing flames struck in an astounding instance, consuming buildings, destroying standing crops and racing toward the debauched inhabitants. In addition to their bodies being corrupted, their very blood had been corrupted by their mergers with the female man beasts that were conducted during their pernicious Satanic festivals and flaunting blasphemous Mardi Gras, all done in complete disregard for the natural love of mortal womankind and the love of all that is righteous. As a result of these mergers, their jaded offspring were only cast into an unrighteous void, destined to wallow in and repeat the infected carnival mockery. From the desert surrounding, marched forth lions and serpents, consumed by the urge for vengeful redemption inspired by the power and fortitude of La Ma's Divina, and the majestic seraphim who surround his sanctified throne. As the spirit stallion and the man raced through the center of the desert town, the crowds of people stood pointing and screaming in fear.... “Look, the divine one has come for the great harvest...and we are destined only to the chaff pile ...and the horrible consuming endless flames! Run.., hide yourselves from his raging fury!'

The emotions varied from the inhabitants. Most were those of consuming fear, some very few righteous among their ranks, by joy, and a huge number by anger. The anger of those so consumed caused them to throw empty bottles and flaming brands, fire their automatic riffles and their tainted arrows...,but no harm could ever come upon the two as they raced. Before time could be calculated, the horse and the man were exiting the limits of the jaded city, riding on farther into the dawning sun above the horizon..., and on toward the town of El Obregon laying in the shimmering distance. In the distance behind them as they raced forward, a huge column of smoke seen for hundreds of miles, announced a catastrophic end to the place of liberated debauched corruption and villainous deteriorating consuming style of living.

As they raced toward the town of El Obregon, the Zetas had already heard the call for their suppression. Upon the very description of the man, they were all aware that they were dealing with a man who was once the youth of their efforts to persecute; for his very incarcerated family had been mercilessly pressed with viciousness anew, to give his accurate description as time had continued on. This time there would be no escape, neither for him nor the immaculate stallion worth his weight in gold. It was all just a matter of enclosing him..they knew from where it was that he entered in from. They would seize up the man to skin him alive and preserve his head for the entire earth to behold, then they would capture the stallion who would be destined for the far northern markets, where the cartel would fetch a price for him more than his weight in gold. The professional racers from as far away as the great time honored derby in the state of Kentucky had already lined up, each placing a higher bid than the one before him. Not only that, the stud service fees would fetch the highest of any ever received, some declaring that they would pay nine times the price of an ounce in gold..., and that was only for the seed of this glorious wind stallion.

The Zetas all donned in their camouflaged attire, with their automatic rifles and their dart guns, their darts filled with the encompassing drugs, leaped into their military jeeps, dozens of them racing forward into the desert, in the direction of the stallion and the man. Soon they neared the two, the mass of jeeps parting and making a huge closing circle, but the spirit stallion never halted, racing through an opening in the jeep circle before they could react and cause it to close. On into the town the two did race, welcomed by the rolling thunder, the flash of raging lightening and roaring wind. The townspeople crowded, all of them knowing well of the ancient herald in the sanctified emergence.. In little time remaining they had made their exit from the town limits...riding proudly onward toward the majestic Sierra Madre..

Immediately the Zetas had anticipated their predestined place of abode, and an army of men had raced forward in the jeeps, then exiting out on foot to secure the sacred place at the alter on Shadow Mountain...They were all aware of the legend where the spirit stallion would emerge in the distant future, to unite with the divine spirit prophetess, Sapientissimo. to ride forward into their eternal destiny, heralding to all the earth the mighty manifestation of the great celestial redeemer.

With the mounting army of jeeps at their rear, the man and the stallion dashed forward into the natural gateway of the Sierra Madre. Though the commandos tried to encircle them by jeep and foot, they soon failed into bitter frustration. Quick as a flash the stallion zipped past the jeeps and the men on foot, soon to the astonishment of all, ascending the mountain heights with the footed skill of a mountain goat. In no time both he and the rider were at the summit of Shadow Mountain. The commandos in waiting closed in surrounding them. From his hip Juan pulled his broken machete, slashing as the rearing stallion raced about..Just at the very moment, a sudden flash of light struck in the midst of the circling commandos, blasting out an opening in their midst. Through this opening, the stallion raced forward, only now being able to race toward the mile high cliff edge...

“Give it up, man....,”yelled the Zetas! “You have no where to go...! Your fate is doom...! Today you shall meet your end!”

“Yes,” screamed Juan into the howling wind, “but what was free is always destined to remain free, and if it cannot choose to remain free, then it will always choose to die..., forever free..!”

As the determined commandos moved forward in their enveloping semi circle, the midnight spirit stallion reared to sing it's heavenly song on the wind once more. The horse and the rider turned, racing with all their remaining strength toward the mile high cliff side as the men closed in upon them. As the soldiers gasped with a breath of absolute astonishment, the horse leaped, disappearing into the misty fog beneath. The soldiers gazed in amazement ahead as the apparition form of Sapientissimo appeared to stand in the distance from the cliff side, with opened welcoming arms.....

…..In the distance, it has been said, that a great earth quake consumed the pursuing soldiers. Nine days later raging flames were carried forward by the wind spirits, to consume the structures of men, and to liberate the repressed and the destitute. The same great earthquake returned, swallowing all of the town structures of the repressive invaders and loathsome hoards. The evil containment facilities, where the innocent were so ruthlessly enslaved, were graciously liberated by the flame and the shaking earth, whereupon the repressed inmates fell upon the dust of the earth in gracious sanctified gratitude to the supreme deity of the universe. With the land purged now of the corrupt, the once lucid blood tainted by that of beasts, the repressive invaders and the extortionist...all that now remains is the enrapturing chant of the spirit prophets amid the blessed rhythm pace of the ghost dancers. For all the righteous natives now live in harmony as one with the surrounding natural earth and each other...The only thunder is the returning herds of the sacred buffalo....all destined for a new dawning, eternal glory....

...It is said on certain nights out in the beautiful Sierra Madre, during the rein of the crescent moon, that if one gazes forward with eagerness afresh, that he can still see the sparkling flames on the heavens, of the spirit stallions' hooves striking stones as he passes o’er the face of the earth.... And if one should listen with invested intensiveness..., he may still hear the distant haunting mesmerizing song of the spirit stallion.....






© Copyright 2018 H.L. Dowless. All rights reserved.

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