Posted by AlOmega on December 05, 1998 at 16:22:26:
Hi,
I did a story a few weeks ago based on the Aztec sacrifice theme. There was some research in it but I'm doing more. The story follows:
Atonement
by
AlOmega
We are the Chosen, the People of the Sun, the Collaborators and Sustainers of the Gods. Without the Gods,
we would not be. Without us, the Gods would not be. We live for the Gods and they live for us. That is
how it has always been and that is how it always will be. The Gods have Chosen Us as Their servants and
we are responsible - it is our sacred duty - to sustain and nourish Them. None of Them must ever go hungry
or grow week. If They did, They would die and our life on earth would die with them.
We each in our own way aid in sustaining the Gods. I, as priestess to Huitzilopochtli, have my part to play as
well. This is because of my two sisters. Rare are we. Three are we. Dedicated to the Sun and Moon and all
the Stars. My two sisters are dedicated to other Gods. That is how the Priests wished it. That is how the
Gods wished it.
According to the Sacred Texts, Coatlicue, the Goddess of the Earth, became a Priestess in the temple, living
a life of retreat and chastity after having given birth to the Moon and Stars. One day while sweeping, She
found a ball of down which she tucked away in her waistband. When she finished her tasks, she looked for
the ball of feathers, but it had disappeared. Then She knew She was pregnant. When Her Children, the
Moon, Coyolxauhqui, and the Stars, called Centzonhuitznahuac, discovered this, they became so furious
that They determined to kill Their Mother.
Coatlicue wept over Her approaching death as the Moon and the Stars armed to kill her, but that which
was in her womb spoke to her and consoled her, saying that when the time came, He would defend Her
against all.
Just as Her enemies came to slay Her, Huitzilopochtli was born, and with the aid of the Serpent of
Fire, the Sun's Ray, He cut off Coyolxauhqui's head and put the Centzonhuitznahuac to flight. So it was that
when the God was born, He had open combat with His Brothers, the Stars, and His Sister, the Moon;
armed with the Serpent of Fire, He puts Them to flight every day, His victory signifying a new day of life for
men
That is the Divine Battle which takes place in the sky every day at dawn. For Huitzilopochtli to be
victorious each morning and ensure a new day, He must be strong and vigorous, for He must fight against
the unnumbered Stars of the North and South and frighten Them all off with His arrows of light. We are the
People of Huitzilopochtli; the Chosen People of the Sun charged with the duty of supplying Him and all of
the other Gods with food. In this manner, We are the Collaborators of the Gods who must aid in
maintaining the Order of the Cosmos not only for Ourselves, but for the rest of the world as well. That is
what the Sacred Texts say, that is what has been written, that is what will always be.
And this time we three were to play important parts in the sustaining the lives of the Gods. When we were
young, we discovered that each of us shared the thoughts of the other two at times of stress and joy. While
playing apart from my sisters one day, I fell and slashed my leg. Apart from the other children and unable to
move, I knew that the fangs of the great cats would find me soon. In my pain, I cried out but not aloud
wishing to keep the claws away from my flesh for a time. Soon to my surprise, I was found and brought
back to the village. My two sisters had heard my cries, felt my pain, and sustained cuts of their own in
exactly the same way. We three healed at the same time and those of our village knew that we were special,
Chosen of the Gods for greatness. Soon we were sent to the Great City which numbered over a million with
all its color and smells and noise. Dedicated to the Temples were we. Each of us to be the Priestess of the
Gods. Ready until a certain Day that would surely come. To the Sun, the Hunt, and the Rain, each of us
dedicated and waited
We are by some accounts beautiful. But if we weren’t, that would not matter. We found as we grew older,
my sisters and I, that we could Speak over the great distances that separated Our Temples. Likewise it was
found that we Spoke to the Gods. That was why we were Priestesses in separate Temples to the Sun, Rain,
and Hunt. These were important Temples for without each, none could survive. The Rain was needful for
the crops to grow. The Hunt we must have for the meat we needed and as participants of War. And the
Sun we must have for Life itself. We neither gloried in our fortune nor strove to be better than one another.
Our Honor was to serve and that we did very well.
Because we were Sacred Priestesses to the Gods, none of us could be part of the Xochiyaoyotl - the
“flowery war” as it was called by those not Chosen. But we could watch and did. We saw each warrior
dressed in his best finery displaying rich panaches of feathers and armor, and standards and shields
sumptuously adorned with feather mosaic work and precious stones, copper plates, and golden bells. And
each warrior fought hard and well for it would be unseemly not to. Nor was it a shame to be captured - a
great privilege that was. And we joyed when such were brought before us each to provide Teyolia to satisfy
the Gods. For it is Teyolia, also called the Divine Fire, which sustains us, shapes hour sensibilities, and
stimulates our thinking patters. We know from the Sacred Records that when a person dies, his or her
Teyolia travels to the world of the dead, also known as the Sky of the Sun where it is transformed into birds.
Each captured warrior was treated as a god, a beloved guest, the responsibility of which was ours. They
were treated truly and royally for that was what must be done. Soon they would take our pleas to the Gods
and reside in Tonatiuhican, the House of the Sun. There in gardens filled with flowers, they would become
the daily companions of Huitzilopochtli. They would fight great battles and tell wonderful stories; and,
when Huitzilopochtli rose in the East, they would greet him with shouts of joy and beat their shields loudly.
When they returned to earth after four years, they would be transformed into hummingbirds and other birds
with exotic plumage and would feed upon the nectar of flowers. They would be the Privileged Ones whom
Huitzilopochtli Himself had chosen for His retinue. They would live a life of pure delight. The Sacred Texts
said this was so and we knew They did not lie. Had not the Gods told me and my sisters this? That was
why we knew the Texts were true.
Then came one day the rumor, a tale told by a merchant from the coast of Gods of light which were seen
one day on the shore. Gods they must be for they came from the West with strange beasts and shiny metal
and metal that sounded like the thunder from the Rain God. My sisters knew of these strangers at the same
time as I. We laughed when they said the metal tubes moved on wheels for we had developed them long
ago. Only for children’s toys were wheels designed for our valleys, mountains, and forests rendered them
useless. Fascinated were we by the stories especially of the giant beasts with four legs and two heads. I
must say I suppressed more than one giggle when I heard the rumors for after all we were Priestesses and
giggling was unseemly.
Yet as I thought on the rumors, a foreboding thought entered my mind which I was unable to suppress.
Foreboding it was but without form. No words formed that I could put to it nor could my sisters. And on
this for once the Gods remained silent. I only felt this and not my sisters though we shared everything else.
Why this was I do not know.
The rumors grew as time passed. An old prophecy of a white god from the west - Quetzalcoatl - took hold
of the People. They gloried that the Time of Fulfillment was at hand. But I did not share in this. Other
rumors told of tlacamictilitzli being practiced without sacrifice. To some it meant little, to me it told much.
Tlacamictilitzli is man-killing. But without the Tecpatl and Techcatl, it held no meaning other than murder.
And murder is an abomination to my People.
Our leaders sent emissaries to meet with these White Gods and to see what was to be seen. This I knew
because I was Priestess. I passed this on to my sisters as well for we must be prepared for what was to
come. I have had Visions before of the future. Many of them come true. It is my Gift beyond what my
sisters bring to their Temples. Each of us has her own Gift apart from the other. Healing, Sight, and Love
we three possess. And we know that without all three, the other two are useless.
On this night when the emissaries were sent, I received my Vision. I knew its meaning but pondered the
consequences. If I told all that I Knew, my People would parish. If I withheld all that I Knew, my People
would parish as well. Part of what I Knew must be told and part withheld. But which part? I Spoke with
my sisters of what I Knew. I felt their Love, their Healing and found peace again. Resolved we three
together to do this. For ourselves. For our People. For Our Gods. A Sacred Sacrifice must be performed.
But only three could be chosen. Only three volunteers to be sacrificed. That was what we imparted to the
Priests. Reluctant they were to accept this. Reluctant to accept for we Spoke with the Gods.
Reluctance turned to acceptance when the emissaries returned. My sisters and I would be the Sacrifice for
the morrow.
That night we prepared for Sacrifice. Each in her own Temple we prepared. Knowing that we were to die
as one for our People gave us more joy then would seem possible. None of us had known a man so we were
even more acceptable. That was what was proper. That was as I had seen in my Vision. As Uauantin, the
Striped Ones, we were painted. Red and white were our colors. White down was pasted on our heads and
black circles painted on our eyes. Our mouths received the Sacred Red Paint we had applied to others.
Then alone except for our shared Mind, we were led each to the foot of our Tzompantle or pyramid near our
Temples. Each of us one at a time would be led to the Sacred Place for Sacrifice. I would be the last to be
sacrificed, the only one to ascend the Tzompantle. That was so I could complete the Vision. This I had
been told by the Gods.
Healing (for that was her name now that we were to be Sacrificed), the Priestess of Hunting, was led before
the outer wall of the Temple. Standing stark, alone, I could feel her joy in dying for our People. I told this to
the Priests nearby. Her fear I assuaged with Hope from my Vision. To the Gods we would soon ascend.
That was what was Promised. That would surely come to pass. She stood waiting as the Warrior Priest
drew and waited. The release and thud of the arrow into her breast caused pain but it was replaced with
tender feelings for the one who had missed. Another shot and miss altogether for deep in his heart he loved
her and would not see her die even in Sacrifice. She held firm as a second and a third arrow missed the mark
of her rapidly beating heart. She faltered as the pain washed over her but rose to stand steadfast waiting for
the final arrow to take her to the Gods. As each arrow struck, the pain mounted but still she stood resolved
to give no hint of what the bleeding was costing her. She kept her hands at her sides throughout until the
twentieth arrow pierced her heart. Our hearts stopped beating as one and I felt her joy as she departed her
lovely body to join with the Gods.
My sister, Love, was next. She was the Priestess of Rain. For herself, she wanted no bindings of wrists but
ritual demanded it be otherwise. I felt her joy in dying for our People. Again I told my Priests so they could
tell the Priests of her Temple. No prodding did she need to approach the Sacred Pool. Like a bird, she
stepped into air and scarcely a ripple passed as she descended to the mud at Its bottom. Through her eyes I
saw the countless skeletons of those who had gone before her over the ages. Yet she was resolved as I
knew she would be. At first fearful to accept the Sacred Waters into her lungs, I Spoke to her of my Vision.
Still she was fearful. I could feel the pain in her breasts as her lungs wanted release from its pent-up
reservoir containing nothing but stale air. She tried to pull her hands free but ceased as I Sent my Love to
her. I knew she could not have freed herself from the muddy bottom in any case. And when she finally
released the vapid air to the waters, I Knew her joy as the Sacred Waters filled her lungs. Her eyes did
widen but she was fearless to the last.
And then it was my turn.
My turn to be escorted up the steep stairway of the pyramid. Slowly I was led. I could see the Techcatl, the
Sacrificial Stone upon which I would be stretched. The Techcatl we knew had dropped down from the
heavens at the beginning of Time. It was high enough to sit on but that was not its purpose. As I reached the
top, my High Priest, my Quetzalcoatl, seized me by the shoulders and two others thrust me back over the
Techcatl, with great speed and precision. I could still feel the cold Stone pressing into my back. I felt no
loving thought to take away the pain. Only my belief in my Vision held me steady as my back was bent
backward under great tension. Four of my Priests bore down, each on an arm or a leg while a fifth crushed
my neck backward, pressing down on my throat with a long implement. My High Priest who held the
Tecpatl, which I knew as one of the nine Lords of the Night, hesitated. My bare breasts were waiting, eager
for the blow to be stuck that would smash my chest but it didn’t come.
“Please”, I cried coarsely. “Strike now so I can complete the Vision.” I saw the jeweled haft sparkle in the
rays of my God and then the sudden pain as the Tecpatl smashed through my chest. He then thrust his hand
into my chest cavity which he had opened and ripped out my Teyolia, my still beating heart. I smiled as he
held my heart high as an offering to my God, Huitzilopochtli the Sun. A film seemed to cover my eyes as I
saw him fling my heart into the Sacred Bowl especially designated to collect hearts. As my body was tipped
off the stone to go tumbling down the steps, I had my final Vision. My People would be saved, the Gods
told me. As I reached the bottom of the pyramid, I smiled and remembered no more.
Time does not pass in this place. I joined my sisters and we sought our Gods. We seek them still. Yet deep
in the heart I do not have, I sense our futility. My Vision told of what was, what is, and what was to come.
Our People lived on; but, in one sense, they died. And the Gods may be no more. The Vision. Yes, the
Sacred Vision. Indeed the coming of the Quetzalcoatl - the white men of prophecy came to past. But my
People, the Aztec, are no more. A strange foreign God lives in the land of my People. They speak some
words that I spoke but most are lost in the sands of time. That is what my Vision foretold. Before the white
men came, we bathed daily, washed the countless streets, and made the city of over a million the sparkling
capital of the Aztec people. I have found their cities filthy and small. Their temples are no better. And
they called us “savages”. My sisters and I have searched but still have not found the God of the whites.
They took all and left nothing of ourselves. Not even our Gods. It is as I foretold. It is as the Sacred Texts
stated. Without Us the Gods would die. That is my Vision to you. I sense someone near who will write these
thoughts as words. If you are Aztec, return the Gods to life. If you are White, .....
This text was found under several tons of rubble near the Great Temple of Tlatelolco.
Near it was the skeleton of a boy of fifteen. He seemed to have been attired in the
trappings of an Aztec High Priest. He may have been writing when an earthquake ended
his life. The text, worn and readable, I have translated for you. Make of it what you will.
AlOmega