over the mountains of the moon, down the valley of shadow

It started with a single choice, back when Benecio closed his eyes, made a wish on birthday candles, and decided he didn't want to spend his day off at home. The choice sparkled before his eyes like the stars in the sky shine on dark nights, faint twinkling points that burned themselves onto the back of his eyelids. Even now, when he closes his eyes against his burning world, he can still see those candles and taste that chocolate cake with its raspberry filling.
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I used to wonder who I'd be if I had a different mother, if like the Mixteco river, I too would know how to wash away the debris that inevitably finds its way into the waters of my life. I wonder if I'd survive like that river has survived the most egregious of human behavior.

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The church is silent save for the kneeling people at the front, that quiet murmuring from the mouths of the faithful. Belinda can hear the clicking of Tia Cata's heel against the linoleum as they make their way down the left side of the benches. There, on the side away from the crucifixes and the saints, Belinda can see into the vestibule at the front, the dark tiles and the clean counters that hold the communion wine. The priest will be in the back towards the left, in that little hallway that connects the vestibule to the room that holds the saints that only come out near Christmas.
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There is a room in my brain that I cannot enter.

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We can't drink when we're sad.
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I'm hanging to the edge of the world by the skin of my teeth.
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Abel lived in a single family home at the edge of Maple Street in Haverstraw. Her back windows looked out into a yellowing backyard, wilted grass, and fallen leaves littered across the stone path leading to the back door. Farther back, her home let out into a thicket of trees that blended into the forest behind her home. Her house was flanked by trees that formed an almost circular seal of protection against the rest of the world. Twenty feet high, the forest swallowed Abel in its embrace. A half-mile long dirt path was the only exit to the main road, and as an extra protection, twelve-foot tall hedges filled in for the fence that lay in splintered pieces on the front yard.
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From the moment of her conception, Adriana's mother, Lucia, had stood before her altar, in front of the wooden crucified Christ, and she'd asked, not for a beautiful baby, but for a baby with the wisdom of Solomon. Amid the dirty streets of the Eastern Bronx, on Mansion Street, where a pair of shoes still hung from telephone wires, Lucia, in her shared one-bedroom apartment, had kneeled and prayed.

So, Adriana Karina Lopez was born with the weight of King Solomon on her shoulders, and the hopes and dreams of her mother on her head. Which is to say, that from the moment Adriana first came into the world, she had quite a lot to live up to.

It followed then, that when Father Jose stood at the front of the altar to offer salvation, Adriana was going to say yes.( Read more... )

Earth, New United States, October 2, year 2deltaQ

Cynthia Zhang had been to the White House twice since her company had acquired the gray planet, Licentian. She'd originally named it after her company, but the name hadn't stuck long, especially after the pictures of the planetary sky had come back from the first official exploration. Everyone called her new planet the Gray Planet because its sky was the color of summer thunderstorms, though it hadn't rained on the planet since its discovery in the late deltaP's. A discovery that wouldn't have happened without the generous donation from Cynthia Zhang's company. The planet was a barren wasteland upon its discovery, filled with wide, open plains that curved in the horizon. Everything about the planet was dead and gray, and the name stuck.

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One Friday, in Tlaxixinca, towards the end of the rainy season, when the tree branches hung heavy with fruit and the hills were full of shadows, Juliana Guadalupe Sanchez Mena made a deal with Mixcoatl, the serpent god of war. The deal was this: that no bullet shot from the gun of a conquistador would ever pierce her flesh, that no bullet shot from her rifle would miss, and that Maria Jose Martinez Lopez would love her until the day of her death. In exchange, Juliana Guadalupe promised that her soul and the souls of her daughters would, for seven generations, belong to Mixcoatl, devil to the Spaniards and devourer of men. Then, Juliana Guadalupe took up her rifle, armed the women in her village, and burned the Spaniards to the ground.

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