Random Musings of a Dead Man — Part 3

I have thought long and hard about what to write in this third installment of ramblings and honestly, I have no idea where to go with it so maybe I will just discuss the origins of the octopus or even the true creation of religion. You name it, I have watched it unfold.

But where shall we begin? Well, you already know two important parts of my life that have helped define me. My birth as a warrior and my death as a man. There is quite a lot in between and even more after my death, so much more that by the time I will have finished writing it all down, you will be just as dead as I am, well, more aware of death anyway.

I think one more glance at my first life is in order. The inaugural chapter of my existence on this bewitchingly picturesque beauty of a planet before moving on to different pastures.

So, close your eyes and picture yourself back in the heart of the forest, dense with overgrowth and filled with the sounds and smells of wildlife flittering around you (I did say it was a nice forest). Venturing deep into the wilderness you would come across a small congregation of yurt-style dwellings made from large dried palm leaves woven together with thin strips of bark. This wholesome and simplistic community was my home.

I was a member of the Acauas tribe. Aside from being fabled warriors, we were also deeply in touch with nature and the flow of energy that encompasses us all. This was all thrown into question when we thought the spirits had turned against us.

It was not long after my first fight with Orinoco. I had recovered quickly and was enjoying my spare time chasing a lovely lady, who I had idolized since coming of age. Ok, I say chasing her but that mainly consisted of me falling over every tiny little obstacle like a buffoon in what must have been the worst attempts at flirting you have ever seen. Hmm, I wonder why I was never able to win her heart.

I was sat with some of the other warriors drinking ayahuasca, a psychedelic plant drink that we use to place ourselves into an almost hypnotic state ready for the night’s festivities. I kept glancing over to her and watched as she gracefully moved around whilst she tended to the meal preparations for the village. Dusk was settling in and shadows danced around like crazed spirits as the flames of the fire flickered with the evening breeze.

One of those shadows wrapped around her body, a pang of jealousy flowed through me as I watched it caress her skin. Lines of a glistening red formed down her bare chest where they flowed along the enticing curves of her figure as if the lines were moving. I followed them up her body to see her staring directly at me, fear and panic had covered her face but her eyes were glossed over and lifeless. I then noticed the bright orange eyes of the shadow, no, not a shadow, a panther perched on the roof behind her with its teeth dug into her neck as it started to pull her body up.

My mind sharpened as the haze of the ayahuasca cleared away, only to be met with an ear-deafening cry which I was partially sure was coming from my own mouth. Panic erupted on all sides of the fire as another panther lunged from a nearby tree swiftly dragging away a screaming child into the darkness. I was stunned, shock had routed me fast. Panthers are fiercely territorial animals and do not hunt in groups and especially do not hunt humans, yet here were two invading our peaceful home in unison.

Battle cries bellowed out of the other warriors which snapped me back into focus. I grabbed my spear and joined in the assault as we beat back these invaders. Pushing them closer back to the forest, we had nearly overwhelmed them before more lunged out of their hiding places into our left flank. Our calculated strikes become frantic slashes as all rational thought dissipated leaving nothing but the base instinct to survive.

The blood that was spilled that day left a permanent stain within the mud of the forest floor. Ten panthers in total, each one slain. They had fought with a ferocity never seen from an animal before and we suffered heavily. The elders sent word out to the other tribes and the first war council, in over 200 years was formed.

What you may have realized, is that the behaviour of these deadly assassins was completely unnatural. Nearly every creature on this planet will always hold self-preservation in high regard, especially those who live solitary lives. At first, we thought we had upset the spirits, maybe disrupted the natural order of the forest, and was being punished but after the rest of the tribes arrived and explained they had also experienced similar encounters on their way here, we knew what was happening. For this rare, lonesome species to come together, disregard their own life and launch an assault using rather astounding tactics, there could only be one logical reason.

The Maxubí tribe.

A disgraced, outcast community that worshipped the spirit-walkers, shamans who instead of connecting with the memories of the dead to learn, would push their spirit out and take control of whatever animal they chose. To disrupt and taint the very nature of a creature was highly forbidden so the Maxubi tribe were banished from the lands. It seemed that resentment had festered deep in their souls.

Our retaliation was swift and decisive. With the tribes stood united, the people of the Maxubi had no chance. The final to fall were their elders, the spirit walkers who had caused such needless slaughter. They had retreated into a cave along a mountainside and no one dared enter, no one but me.

I walked in alone and after a few hours, I was the only one to emerge. People said they could hear chanting and thought I was lost. My name was then changed from Child of Moon to Blood Moon. I am sure you can guess why.

Everything changed within me after that, a lot more than you realize at the moment. My soul was tainted and my path was no longer clear.

From that moment on, I became what I am today, what that is, I will leave that up to you to guess and I am eager to read your comments of speculation. Maybe I will answer some in the next chapter of my life.

As always, I will leave you with a question to ponder. Can a spirit walker ever truly be killed?

I hope you enjoyed part 3. Feel free to check out the previous parts on my profile or support my stories with buying me a coffee.

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