by Heiro Dusk
Tomorrow may never come.
The once peaceful and egalititarian civilization that was once the Tocobaga was no more.
Instead only rot was left behind.
Carcasses and death remained, each body creating a sea of exsanguigation, infected sores, sweat, and vomit- and much to your horror some of those bodies were moving; some pleading for their lives to the survivors as well as their gods, and others on the verge of death and screaming in delirium as they passed the Rubicon of plague and insanity.
It was all hopeless, it seemed, and things were only begining to get much worse.
While you and your derelict tribe lie there dying matters only became far more dire. The pale-people from Beyond the Horizon were NOT benevolent indeed, bringing forth horrid plagues and STDs upon the tribes that their medicine could not recover. Sanity was forced to give way to lust as their men ravaged the land, kidnapping the women of the tribes and raping them as they so despired, treating them as a mere lot of harlots among men and forcing their debauchery upon the females of the Native clans.
Even Christopher Columbus-the so-called “hero”- had participated in such acts, and encouraged such behavior to this crew, going so far as to give them personal sex slaves himself.
Alas, the artocities would not end there, and such lack of clemency would spread like hellfire, obliterating everything it touched.
Slaves were made of the Natives of the land, and their existence became but a mere game. As well as having their way with the women the men were subject to their tyranny, forced to work in the mines to find their precious gold; and if they failed to comply they would have their hands amputated and forced to wear their own rotting appendeges around their necks. The novices to the situation who refused imperialism had their ears and noses cut off before being sent back to their tribes as an omen to the discord to come.
Even the children weren’t safe, and the conquerers even went as far as to rip the newborn sucklings from the arms of their mothers in pilages and smash their skulls againsts the sharp edges of the mountain side; otherwise stomping their cranium underfoot as they reveled in the screams of terror that they wrought. The newcomers spread, taking over the lands and invading the Natives; scalping them for money and sport and mounting their decapitated heads as a trophy of war on the highest of poles in their villages for all to see. And in their desperation they made futile attempts to evacuate, even ridding of the gold that the Europeans practically worshipped in vain.
All for the sake of migration, and coercing them to repent.
They told us to redress our wickness. They told us to believe in their God. They told us we were the personification of Sin.
And when we did not repent they murdered us.
Every form of resistence was quelled, any mere suggestion of opposition subdued; every all-out rebellion terminated.
Despite good supposing to win over all evil, there was no hope of freedom nor future anymore.
And this was only the beginning.
It might never end, you realized as you gazed at the calamity you never would have known to exist; feeling nausea as bile began to rise up in your stomache. In the end it would all have been for naught. As time passes, we will be no more.
The horror of such a revelation caused you to retch, watching in terror as you saw blood escape your mouth from your heaving body.
Soon there will be no Tocobaga, and no one will remember our ways. Pain coursed through your body as you felt your skin to be too cold and your blood too hot as you fell to your knees.
There will be no one to remember the traditions we held so sacred. No one to remember the sacred dances or hear the Whispers of the Wind or the Voices of the Sky; nor will they remember our ways of hunting and fasting or know that we have 3 souls, or the significance of the eyes and the secrets of one’s reflection: one day day soon no one will be left to see the shadows dance.
And soon, I won’t be here either.
You fell upon the withering grass, staring up at all the heavens in its twilight beauty, gazing at the beloved Sun and Moon- the said creators of all existence- as well as the emerging stars. With a hitch in your throat and tears in your eyes, you looked beyond the horizon the valleys in which legends were told of seeing spirits dance, accepting the fact that you might join them anon.
You only prayed that you wouldn’t succumb to delirium first, ending up like the others as you relived witnessing their dying breathes and their unhinged screams. Lying down, you closed your eyes, soon slipping into unconsciensness, postponing all these dreaded worries ’till the morrow.
That is, of course, assuming Tomorrow ever comes.
References:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tocobaga
http://theoatmeal.com/comics/columbus_day
http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/encyclopedia.html
Click to access Lies%20My%20Teacher%20Told%20Me.pdf
Click to access A%20People’s%20History%20of%20the%20United%20States-%20Howard%20Zinn.pdf
Pinellas County History Project 