The Unearthing of the Mayans' Seeds

The Last InscriptionBy Kamow Buchanan

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2012 Kamow Buchanan
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4772-4508-8

Chapter One

A-thousand-one-hundred-and-seventy-four-miles in the Northern direction from this estrange position at which the picture plays like a child, in the garden of tender protection, the crystallite and snowploughs demonstrates their intangibility, while the salt trucks franticly tries to reverse the coagulation of the city's streets; somehow in many ways than one, life is graciously adapted naturally in this frigid location. The steams from a-top neighbouring chimneys, factory's and exhaust-pipes, arises with the combustive-intentions to evaporate into the smog filled recession; above the greyish-florescent-dense-atmospheric-skies, which hovers around a place where; the squirrels, the blue-jays and the beavers, plus: millions of strong, brave, daring, kind, helpful and willing individuals recite to call this daunting place their very home.

In each household from nearest to farthest, the inscription clearly depicts; mankind has surpassed the rules of each pharaoh and written prophesies from ancient past to today's booming 21first century. But the written knowledge of the greatest believers and foreseers is yet to be spoken; as it was once written and color-coded into the homage of the inscribers scroll.

Mr. & Mrs. Dubwise neatly put their vacationers' luggage-sets into a chartered limo before they set off to encounter Paradise and limitless romance at the hands of doctorate-degree that Mr. Dubwises' money does buy.

But out in the backyard, a furry-gluttonous-hoof, chews up the remnant sardine-can that was left in the garbage disposal.

Just around the corner from where the furry-gluttonous-hoof of a jackass chews and then swallows, the smell of sugarcane stains the surrounding atmospheres' as the steams and stench pushes across the blue backdrop as the local distillery over-proofed potions settles then brews; it traveled up to the mist of the solid mountain range then disguise itself with the guardians of wealth.

As this afternoon switches from sunlight to sunset, the sounds of our roosters, fade drastically as the golden hen, settles into the kingdom of the roosters' ruse; but as some may call this epic tale as is, (pheasantly) hen and rooster settles in the love nest.

The livelihood of the insects twitching, chirping and chime-like distinctive melodies; serenaded the sunlight as it rested behind the camouflage of the closing dark element we prescribed as night fall.

Unlike the clever dragonfly, the firefly illuminates its presence in total undisguised of its natural, nightly flight.

But inside this humble home of mine»» our television transpires all pictures in black-&-white; with often distortional weaving grains that twitches our eyes ... but nonetheless, a tranquility-like magic energize each life; instilling enthusiasm in all of our prides.

Naturally, we begin to fade into the hands of relaxation ... graciously we all settle in bed to rest and play in our dreams and some may dismay the fact that the sound of the supernatural prowls high in the surrounding mountains, in our backyards, valleys and streets, rivers as well as the circling seas. As importantly, the sounds of our guard-dogs, identifies whenever they detected the steps of trolling feet ...

We remunerate honourably at the sight and sound of a new day.

When the sun came up across the distant horizon; it brought along excitement, festivities and betters hope; pride in the people as well as the unseen drifters; the guilt's and secrets of the past, the noble ones as well as the heartless rulers and them who were chosen.

Today the enthusiasm in and around the village was greatly amplified by the sounds of stability, strength and supporters who cheered on the practicing hoofs; Just as it was accruing many centuries ago. In addition, they could not escape the shame that was swept up under the grass; as the scars of the haunting past stood consciously in their hearts.

The spoken tales in the village was that; there were three unseen, transparent, eyewitnesses in the stands among the living-livelihood of the festivities; who stunk like the potion from our national brewery.

Mr. and Mrs. Dubwise, applies considerable amounts of sun block before they charted their way aboard the company's tour bus, followed by the driver and decorative tours guide.

All the other sun-blocked patrons,' settled in the air-conditioned bus, with their expensive sandals and sunshades; perkily in place as the tour bus smokes off up the contouring valleys.

As the tours guide explains: patrons clapped, danced and cheered to finally be off in paradise; for a small price at sightseeing. As the tour bus powered on by; all who were aboard the air-conditioned friendly zone, rushed to the left side of the village wagon to catch a glimpse of the festivities that was happening on by.

The decorative tours guide announces; "that today was the national jackass derby, where stakes are high and losers are more likely to wear the jackasses crown for the rest of their given donkey lives ..." He spoke; "that today was a noble deed in the respects of where the furry hoofing racers had come from." "Where did they come from?" asked a few curious individual whose identity lay hidden underneath the big straw hats and expensive sun shades. "From the cargo-bay of the strangers' ship" replied the decorative tour guide; with a deep sense of mysteriousness yet conveying respects imbedded in his voice.

Approximately: 27.7 nautical miles in the west direction from the very location where the furry-gluttonous-hoofing-jackass dismantles the sardine can; seven year-old Mustave dines on a combination of: sardines, string-beans and grounded wheat.

After he finishes his afternoon's container of carbohydrates, iron, energy and protein; Mustave, rinses his gold-pin-striped-plate at the pipe that stood at the near side to his two-bedroom-house.

Mustave rushes off in the distant; to settle the scores with the other village kids as they practice their savvy techniques, skills and rivalry at a serious game of marbles.

Before the atmosphere began cascading darkness upon the village, Mustave, hurries back to his yard with his hand and pocket full of marbles, which he won from the others. It was clear that Mustave, was a selective-articulate-destined-winner; who did not fear the stakes of any gamble but was always the one to walk away with his ethics; Worthing its weight in gold.

Mustave then hid his marbles and his golden-glory out in the backyard before he stepped inside. When he settles in the house; Mustave climbs up on to his home-made bench, in front of is golden television, where the pictures translate in black and white.

Mustave is granted with this opportunity in the ammonites of the television, to familiarize his mentality in the black and the whiter sides of life: in the black and the white that projects in his television. But the odd new was; none of it all mattered or made a slight bit of sense because the clarity of the picture stayed the very same each time Mustave rushes in the house, to summarize life in black and white.

Impatiently, a passing playful breeze spun the receiving antenna out of reception; that causes a negative reaction to the television, which makes distortional like grains; which then destroys the picture of black and white.

Mustave then gets up from off his home-made bench and went into his bed at this night's intermission ... but before the rooster begins to interpolate the environment with its negative annoying calls; Mustave is long since out in the back yard with a bucket of water and a hand full of salt - not to mention a generous amount of excitement for what Edith was preparing in the kitchen for share.

Depressingly so, Mustave attends to his four hoofed transportation as he scraped away the remaining dried sleep form the surfaces of his eyes.

Two mornings before this prior intervention, Mustaves' mother; readies his khaki attire with repeated seams and pleats from top to bottom on his tops and bottoms; with an ancient-raw-hot-casted-steel-iron that sat on a pot of red hot coals.

When Mustave was certain his transportation was finally satisfied and happily tentative, he hurried back to the smell of fried-fish and fresh hard-dough-bread that were crisping away on the hot pot of crackling coals.

Not too long after Mustave was neatly in his seamed uniform; boasting pleats, pockets and unique epaulettes on both shoulders ... His mother packed his lunchbox, kissed him goodbye and gave him words of advises before he led his transportation through the stables gate.

Mustave was a dapper to the testament of: sharp, diligent and impressively-well dressed when he left out the house; clean and clear as a referee's whistle. But when he came through the school yard gates, his attire was rumpled out of his mother's perfection, in addition, soiled with many hoof imprints as well as coated with fur. It was as if Mustave was caught between cap and trading fur, someplace between his home and out in the felids on route to school.

It must have been that Mustave was having many difficulties with his stubborn transportation. Mustave was not in dismay of the condition of his attire, more so retired and tired of the constant abuse of the others who; spoke, mocked and jeered disregards at his transportation, which was a blatant shadow to his reputation.

Nonetheless, Mustave hid his stresses and kept a focus check on the clock and his lunchbox and lunch break recession. All the other children in the classroom knew exactly what would transpire at today's lunch recession; as if it was the leading lesson of their daily provisions.

Just before the lunch bell sounds, all the student in class taunts and laughed distressingly when they noticed Mustave's transportation chewing on its rope.

All but one boy was intrigued by the simulations of Mustaves' daily pouts, demises and harden gloats and this boy and Mustave would share many things in common ... but as the lunch bell sounds; a true friendship is left in the open for speculations between: Mustave and Kyro.

Mustave and all the others; gather their belongings with lunchboxes in hand and make way to the canteen, where Mustave extracts his lunchbox and started to unmask such items that his mother had prepared for share.

Bounded in between brown paper-bag, in addition, tied up in black plastic scandals Mustave reveals:

2 mangoes

2 bananas

2 slices of pudding

2 fried-fishes

1 jar of sweet lemonade and 4 slice of hard-dough-bread.

By the time lunch break is near over, Mustave is sound asleep; sounding as though he was a trailer hauling logs through the forest ... however, when he finally snaps out of his comatose state/mid day's nap, Mustave faces a sadder reality that classes are over, school is closed, the students and teacher had somehow disappeared in absolute silence. But the sadder part is that; Konrad has left building with benighted inexcusability on all hoofing-4-cylinders.

On that note, well rested with energy to burn, Mustave covered his lemonade jar and prepare to journey home to his distant village; on all 2 cylinders as the smell of fish, fruits and lemonade-juices; subdued as it greatly lingers in the atmospheres'.

With each step taken on this time and thought-filled journey to his village, Mustave cannot come or bring justice as to why Konrad has chosen to do this time and time again.

Mustave was humiliated- but he kept his emotions at the bottom of his lemonade jar.

As he continued covering grounds on his journey through the village, he becomes closer to his home ... leaving his negative scepticism behind him in the distant far.

As Mustave closes-in on his village, he wonders if and when changes were of the essence? He was nearly out of empathy and patients with Konrads' selfish behaviours and he knew that his family would need to arrange alternate transportation—because; this was not the second or seventh time Konrad has pulled himself out of his knotted ropes and then out of the rabbit's hat and then disappeared. Not to mention, this was no longer the 18th century; things and time had been modernized for: (post) Stone Age sake.

As Mustave comes around the path that led across the ditch, he spots Konrad underneath the massive mango tree, out in the back yard sound asleep ...

For over 5 years; Mustaves' mother had packed his lunch along with a separate portion for Konrad as well. As each day's recession comes around, Konrad would watch as Mustave devours his portion of fish, pudding, mangoes, banana and hard-dough-bread ... not to mention his fair amount of sugar-doused-lemonade. As Konrad sulked in his unfair share of humiliations; Mustave falls in bellyful sleep. This is usually when Konrad kisses-his-teethes and begin his leave of absence!

Yet again, Mustaves' transportation has left the building, leaving all the students historically giggling.

Mustave's jackass was an embarrassment to his reputation; but a vital part in his life's transportation and his future, present and past educations.

Needless to say, there were no compromises of constituencies in the family's budget for any other form of transportation for Mustave. In their eyes and wise judgments; Konrad was the only exception and nothing else.

Mustaves' family told him that Konrad simply wanted respect and thoughtful communication; likewise magic of the wise and maybe a small portion of what was packed for share.

Mustave could not pin-point the moral of this recurring event. He did not understand the ethics of Konrads' embarrassments. However, there was injustice but equal amounts to be shared amongst the two, in this unselfish story.

When Mustave steps in his yard after a weary journey home from school, he is greeted with the smell of: fried-fish and fresh hard-dough-bread, in addition, a warm and tender hug from his mother Edith. Mustave immediately tells of his embarrassment and Konrads' selfish annulment acts. His mother handed him a hot fish to ease his hurts.

Once again it seems that Konrad politely evaded the tattletale hook of Mustave; who took pride in the hot fish that he was recently given.

Konrad was Mustaves' transportation Mondays through Fridays and shared the duty of Mustaves' grandfathers farming consumptions on the weekend.

For Konrad, it was to school and back, then up the hills of the side of the mountain where Mustaves' family had foreseen acres of farmlands.

For many years, this was all that Konrad has known. His ropes combined with rocky roads, Hamper, grass-saddle and straps has not yet taken their tolls.

Konrad was young stubborn and healthily pruned to carry a load; but for some strange reason has yet to carry Mustave through his village home from school where he usually leaves him in a comatose zone.

Chapter Two

"Thank god it is Friday evening; at least I could rest my legs and humility ... Nonetheless, the tattletale and negative moans of Konrads' stubborn ways!" said Mustave.

"Heee-onnn, heee-onnn" replied Konrad; who reciprocated the mutual feeling of unselfishness and his story of full-grown governing laziness. In other words, what Konrd was trying to say is; learn to share you endless pit.

However, in the morning it was work as usual; as Mustave, his grandfather Mr. Levi and Konrad saddled up to journey up the mountain; to weed and fertilize the crop-beds, in the eye of their guardians.

With amicable movements in the kitchen, Edith works up a storm of fried-fish and fresh hard-dough-bread; so that lunch would be in the hamper when the boys were ready to break after the mornings weeding.

Mr. Levi cautiously covers his day's amount of freshly brewed peppermint-tea. He gathers his gardening utilities and stashed it all neatly inside Konrads' Hamper; just the way farmers are suppose to do; with dignity and pride.

Before the boys begin the journey up the mountain, Mustave attends to his transportation with a bucket of water and a hand full of sea-salt. In addition, his fair shares of inquisitions as to "why Konrad was so god dam stubborn and lazy."

Even though Konrad kept his head buried in the bucket, he kept his undivided attention; with eyes and ears in the kitchen, where Edith was packing fair shares in Mustaves' lunch-box, in this natural order:

2 mangoes

2 bananas

2 slices of pudding

2 fried-fishes

4 slices of hard-dough-bread and the regular sugar-doused-Lemonade!

Naturally, Edith gave Mustave plenty kisses and hugs as mother are supposed to. Konrad expressively mumbles something in an ass's language before they took off. At approximately 5:35 am; the three strolls up the mountain. The sound of hoofs echoes as if an army had released a thousand troops, but as we already know or you mightn't have; it was Konrads' stability, combined with Edith's giving dignity that had his mind and nostrils in the lunch-box; he simply could not wait to get to the farming grounds and for lunch break to come flying around.

Konrad was eager but bitter about not getting his fair shares. Anyhow, it was just another Saturday morning, same selfish routine; as Konrad commuted his locomotive end of the deal.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from The Unearthing of the Mayans' Seedsby Kamow Buchanan Copyright © 2012 by Kamow Buchanan. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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