The Promise
His steps slowed and became strangely more meaningful. As he approached the cactus he watched his leather boots sink into the warm desert sand. The cactus was more beautiful than he imagined, even in the soft pre-dawn light. He walked closer and stepped softly as though trying not to wake the cactus before dawn. Eventually, his weathered Mexican boots stood side by side at the base of the cactus. Absolute silence.
The serpent in the man’s hand became restless and wound its muscular body up his arm. He savoured his last glance at the cactus, turned and sat carefully against it. It was as if he was on the set of a Hollywood cowboy and indian film, silhoutted against the breaking light.
He never removed his hat. He had only a few friends and spoke very little. But just this once he took it off. His brown eyes were normally almond shaped. In this moment they were thin and piercing as he examined the serpent one last time. He could feel the hard cactus against his back. The air in his lungs slowly seeped out his nostrils and out over his thick black moustache and into the sky. With one smooth motion the man raised the serpent to his prickly neck as he pushed its fangs through his skin. His face crinkled and reddened as a single drop of moisture appeared on his brow. Seconds went by with the serpent at his neck. Suddenly, his arm fell limp to his side, his strong fingers released, and the serpent slid off over the warm desert sand.
His expression was no longer pained. He was content. He began to hear his heart beat like a drum in the distance. As his eyelids slowly began to sink the sun began to rise. His eyes closed shut and the first beams of golden light broke the horizon and warmed his cheeks. His chin fell into his chest which, unlike the sun, no longer continued to rise.
His spirit cruises the desert just as he intended. The North American invaders may take his land but he swore they’d never take his life.
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