The First Part in a Series of Love, Life, and Death
It was on summer mornings when the dew still weighed on the grass that Tlamatine displayed his masterfully metered melodies with his conch shell ocarina. There were none who did not enjoy Tlamatine’s song, who did not enjoy the flutter tongue melodies that reminded of the joys of marriage, or the dirges that reminded of souls lost and rejoined as part of the cosmos. He felt every second of his song, not only the passion with which he played and brought tears to the eyes of his listeners with his mythic talent, but also the feelings that came from the audience. He was a vessel for their thoughts, their memories, their emotions. His *in ixtli, in yóllotl*, his heart and face, his sense of self was undeveloped because his ego was as crowded as a Mexica marketplace. Flooded with the alien, there was only one thing that always reminded him of who he was. He passed to Mictlan, having died a week before, and so ceaseless was Tlamatine’s playing and so relentless was his amnesic bonding with the audience that he could not even remember his lover’s name. He played the ocarina even without listeners on the outskirts of town when the notes of the ocarina began to crack and fade in and out, distort and deepen. He blinked and opened his eyes to a man so beautiful that he could be no mortal.
“You’re - “ Tlamatine began to speak but the breath was stolen from him.
“I do not suppose you remember me,” the man said. He was clothed in very little, but heavily adorned in jewelry. “I am the Prince of Flowers, Xochipilli, and creator of that conch shell ocarina. Although for your talent, I can take no credit. I wonder…” a sly smile, “might you play for me?”
No sooner did the notes sound from the ocarina then he connected with the divinity and was overwhelmed with the aroma of flowers. He closed his eyes and imagined moonblooms, opening in the dead of night. There was dancing and singing, but more than anything, he could hear his own music reflected back at him. The notes of the ocarina *were* the flowers of the divinity’s soul. The flowers were the expression of Tlamatine’s being, of who he was, and who he was becoming, and who he was to become. His performance for the Prince of Flowers reminded him, but most of all, it reminded him of his lover’s name: Iiusticia.
The performance revived his raison d’etre.
“You have pleased me with your song,” Xochipilli said. His smile only made him more beautiful, Tlamatine thought. He was pleased not only for the opportunity to play for a god, but to feel some sort of energeic movement in himself, his conception of himself. He felt not only restored, but renewed.
“I thank you,” the god responded to the song after a moment of silence. “Do you not wish to be reunited with your beloved?”
“Is there a way?”
“How can death deny such a beautiful song? I shall show you the way to Mictlan where the dead journey for their rest. ”
They trekked across Cipactli, the world, for so long and without stop that Tlamatine lost track of all sense of time and direction. Finally they came to the horizonless underworld. A suffocating fog shrouded the distance so thickly that Tlamatine nearly fell into a river. Xochipilli could hardly stifle his laughter as something in the river began to move, shifting the waters about in what started as gentle ripples but ended as thunderous waves so powerful that they began to leave a crater in the water where the skin of land showed through. Xolotl, a canine god, sat peacefully at the bottom of the river as the waves rippled around him.
For a moment, everything went still. The water began to fall and recollect in the river and Xochipilli turned to smile at Tlamatine. With a nod, Tlamatine pulled the conch shell to his lips and placed his deft fingers over the holes. He began to serenade the dog, who quickly swam to the surface of the river. Slowly, Xolotl drifted towards Tlamatine and pulled himself out of the water, and it was not until then that Tlamatine realized how enormous the dog was. The dog was large enough to carry him, which seemed to be the dog’s intention as he circled around Tlamatine’s legs and sat facing the river. The notes that rang from the ocarina and in their ears told of the many dead that had traveled the path before them, the heaviness of the many souls that the dog god had carried on his back. Tlamatine wiped wetness from his eyes and drew the conch shell from his lips. The ocarina and its charm had served their purpose. Tlamatine mounted Xolotl and together they made their way through the river that divided life from death.
Thank you for reading my work. I appreciate your time and comments.
To speak more of my writing ambitions, I am looking to strengthen my creative/generative acumen. I also want to work on writing on deadlines, so I wanted to take on a writing project in which word count expectations were low as long as I turned something out. I have taken on this project of retelling a familiar myth with a twist: Orpheus and Eurydice, except for in the world of Mesoamerica. Any sort of feedback is encouraged and appreciated.
