Date: Tue, 17 Feb 2004 13:39:55 -0600 (CST)
From: Horacio Quiroga <horaacioquiroga@yahoo.com>
Subject: Mexican History/chapter 1

Disclaimer/introduction:

The first chapter (since the one before this was intended to be
sort of a prologue) of a story I hope will be quite enjoyable as a
whole. The story takes place in Mexico during the first quarter
of the 20th century, and of course was written in Spanish and
later translated to English (I barely can write original stuff in
Spanish, I wouldn't try it in English), hopefully you'll like it
despite the offences it might have to this language.

By the way, what does the title Mexican-History have to do with
any of what's written  here?, you  might ask, well absolutely
nothing. The thing is: History and Story are the same word in
Spanish and I didn't realize I had made a mistake on the title
until it was already uploaded to the archive, so, I guess it'll stay
that way.

Thanks to those few who reviewed the intro and took time to
write their comments at horaacioquiroga@yahoo.com (NOT
HoracioQ@yahoo.com, since I don't know whose e-mail might
that be and was briefly published as mine by mistake). They are
the only reason I'm publishing this story and hopefully, not
quite certainly, I won't let them down with this chapter,
intended to be the most nifty-like of the series. I've tried to keep
the story short so it will be readable even if its not one of your
favorites.  Enjoy, but first:

Do not read this story if you're under 18 since it contains
a lot of stuff not suitable for almost any audience (like underage
sexual intercourse and very poor literature) and you'll probably
be sickened by it. Use your common sense and stick to the laws
of wherever you are concerning this kind of material. If you still
want to read this, be my guest but don't blame me or anyone
else since its your decision. Thanks for reading the disclaimer
and go ahead:
___________________________________________________

"If you ever say anything, I'll kill you", he'd say holding
my hair. And I'd stay silent, still sweating, or covered with his
salty sweat, covered with his scent of man which he already had
although he was only a boy, fifteen or sixteen the first time he
came to my room. Tough and skinny, he could have killed me
back then when I said to my aunt that in the middle of the night
the shadows in my room had the shape  of animals fighting each
other, and that Miguel had seen them that other night he was in
my room.-And what was Miguel room doing in your room?, and
Miguel saw me from across the table we used to have breakfast
on with no expression on his face, because he really had the
conviction to kill me, but he saved it for later, when we were
alone. He hit me with a log that was half my own size the next
day, when we were driving the cattle,  he hit me in the back of
the head and I was blown to the ravine leaving a trial of blood
that stayed on the air as if it was made of smoke. When I
reached the bottom my face was sunk in the brook and it wasn't
bleeding anymore. He could've killed me if he had just came
down and cracked my head open, because that would have
killed me: spilling my brains out of my skull, but he got scared
and went back home to let know I'd fallen and was in the
bottom of the ravine.

	When Don Cristobal started looking for me, I looked for
him as well because he was rich and owned all the region of
Vizcaya, and he knew me, I don't know where from, but when
we first met he called me by my first name and was kind and
respectful.-He'd better be, I would think to myself, because I
had became pedantic and wouldn't recognize important things
has they happened, like starting to work for Don Cristobal was. I
want you to take care of business with I-don't-know-who that
owes me money, with I-don't-know-who that owes my brother
money, with I-don't-know-who because I don't trust him, I-
don't-know-who because he's rising people against me, I-don't-
know-who that has raised people against me. And then I killed
the people of La Pena and they were the most I had killed in a
single strike until then. The same way I became pedantic I
became stupid, and I would live my days drunk, never asking
nothing from Don Cristobal even though he would've given me
anything to keep me working for him, I would only ask him
more work. But we became friends, or so I thought, although I
was too young, too much of a drunk and too much of a stupid to
be friends with Don Cristobal. He'd treat me as his family.
We'd used to go hunting together and had dinner together a few
times a week, he'd let me get drunk at his house were I was
attended by his employees until I passed out , and they 'd take
me to my little house at the edge of town, that which was
comfortable and pretty the goddamn thing.

	Juan and Ana had Miguel when they were very young,
and so when they took me in Miguel was around fifteen, Juan
was a few years over thirty and Ana was thirty at most. I've
never known how old am I, but I'm almost certain they took me
in when I was seven. And I loved both of them, not Miguel. At
night in my room I would have the same nightmares I've always
had since I remember, and for my disgrace I have a pretty good
memory when I'm sober.  One night the shadows in my room
went straight past the wall. And it was a dog, a wild cat and
other bigger ones I had never seen before, all of them in my bed,
all on top of me an I wasn't able to move until I realized those
weren't beasts, but the almost black man that Miguel was,
unclothed as an animal , and his penis wasn't a long black
snake, it was soft and hot.

	Very tall and very skinny, the light let me guess the
shape of his muscles stuck to his bones, he looked like he had a
very long abdomen, filled with squared flat muscles. And I felt
them in my back when he laid on top of me, quickly getting rid
of my clothes and I'd heard him breathing over my ear. He took
my hand with his rough dirty hand, the outline of his nails was
black even when the nail met the flesh of his fingers, and when
he tried to penetrate me I heard what he was thinking and got
frightened to know that people could think like beasts, with no
words and no time. And that night, from his adolescent pubis a
worm beast emerged, so big it seemed like it could burst trough
its skin. And it got inside me. I was so small that every time he
pushed forward, with his long and violent movements, he would
drag me along with him, rather that getting his penis inside me,
so he'd hug me tight under my arms. It didn't hurt much, at the
beginning because I was almost asleep, later because h would
lubricate me with his pre-seminal fluids. He was sweating and
panting in top of me. Feeling him pressing my guts from the
inside distracted me from my nightmares. That night I had the
first erection I recall as he caressed me, always laying on top of
me, he got his hand under my body and looked for my small
circumcised penis, he was so skinny that I was able to feel the
muscles of his forearm against my belly when he was stroking
my penis hardly, from its basis.

	When he was over, he laid by my side facing up with his
forearm over his eyes, breathing quickly, I turned over and
looked at him, his semen was flowing out of me.-Look, and in
the roof the dog had the wild cat grabbed by its neck, and ran
with him out of the window, but he didn't looked. He got up as
he didn't hear me. When he was about to leave he regret and
came back to the side of my bed, as I was lying his flaccid penis
hung in front of my face for a few seconds before he bent down,
grabbed me by the hair and say "If you ever say anything, I'll
kill you."

	I worked driving the cattle, I would get up early in the
morning, fix my room and have breakfast with the family. The
morning after that night nothing changed, Miguel was always
distant with me and he kept that way, excepting a few nights. He
kept coming to my room, at least once a month for over a year,
and I never said anything, I would shut up and let things happen
as if they were happening for the first time, not thinking about
it, as if it was all part of a dream. -Look, I dared to say again one
night like I did the first, an he looked and saw the black bear in
the wall, holding the cougar. He got out of bed in one movement
and made an expression like he was screaming, but didn't make
a sound. That's why I got the courage to say anything to my
aunt Ana a few days later, because I was as happy as a child can
be. Because it wasn't a dream. Miguel saw the beasts too and
was even more scared of them than I was.

	I set my birthday to be October 22nd the evening of
October 22nd when I was with the troops and they asked me why
did I drink so much, and it was my 20th birthday, I told them. I
had been working for Don Cristobal for almost a two years and
the incident in La Pena had just happened. The revolts end up
almost immediately all over Vizcaya, everyone was scared that
was good. I wasn't friends with anyone and no one was friends
with me. Thanks to Don Cristobal no one knew about me, all
they knew is that I was new and I was good, so no one was
really afraid of me. Vibora knew about me, but he didn't fear
me, and whenever I was drunk he would have one of his guys
picking a fight on me, just to see me doing something, and so I
killed a few of his guys but not the way he would have wanted
me to do it, but using my knife. He was smart, Vibora, and I
never knew what he was up to. He disappeared by December
and by next year's summer he started a revolt, and it was the
biggest and bloodiest rising of people there ever was in Vizcaya.

	Juan did care about me, not the way he cared about his
son, but he really cared about me. By the side of the brook he
held me in his arms for a long time, so log I was able to see the
sun moving from side to side trough the branches of the trees,
trough my eye lashes sticky with water and blood. Because I
was no longer breathing and he thought I was dead, and would
look with his hand the wound in my head.-Juan, I'm all right, I
said when I realized with joy that I was still able to talk. He
carried me on his arms all the way to the house and had me
laying on his bed, that of him and Ana. Ana washed my head
and cut my hair to find and heal the wound. It was already
closed but it was still there, pulsating along with my heart. It's
still there, covered with my hair and Angel used to play with it
sometimes as he caressed my head, I didn't lie to him when he
find it because I never lied to him.-My cousin tried to kill me
when I was about your age, and that's how I started to tell him
about how I end up killing Miguel and Juan.

	I got out of bed once I was certain Miguel wasn't
coming that night. I had been awake all night so I hadn't
dreamed and the shadows were still, faithful to the things that
produced them. I got close to the door and saw my shadow on it,
there was a slight light on my back, but my chest was barely
visible. I touched my shadow, at the heart's height and the
beasts got near me, they gathered around my feet and climbed
my legs from the dark side. They got all together in my lower
abdomen and from there they stretched to reach the door ad
opened it violently, with a loud sound that awakened the entire
night.

	Once I was finished I was covered in blood, my hair was
dripping and I was rubbing my eyelids to stop the blood from
reaching my eyes. That was the first time I ran away, and I did it
for a long time, until I was able to pretend I forgot all about it
and came back to the valley to work for Don Cristobal.-Poor
Juan, I used to think every morning when I was running away,
because I didn't care anymore for Ana and Miguel.

The beginning of the end was around the days Ana got
sick and I was maybe eleven years old, Juan got another bed on
his bedroom so Ana was able to rest. He would spent the nights
keeping vigil over her, praying. Sometimes it looked to me like
she was already dead and that only Juan knew about it, that only
he would keep vigil on her, staying all night at the foot of the
bed. And one night I stayed with him, keeping vigil over Ana,
watching her on her sleep, and I didn't went back to my room
when he told me to.-Then sleep on my bed, he said and I laid
down watching him and watching Ana. He would've cried if he
could do it when awake. Sitting on that little chair at the foot of
the bed, slightly enlightened by the candles they always had for
the Virgin on his room, but he couldn't cry like that. Much later
at night he came and laid with me, hugging me from behind, and
when he fell asleep he was able to cry in silence, cried over the
scar on the back of my head and the tears wetting my hair made
me want to cry too, but I wasn't able to cry awake either.

	Ana got sick on January and died on October. Juan
started to drink a lot and, for a moment, I thought I was helping
him, that I helped him going to his room at night, hugging him
and looking for his body with my own, with my hands and my
lips. -- Look, I would say pointing at the roof, where there were
no beasts, and there never where when I was around him. I
would stay at his bed every time I could because if I didn't
Miguel would go to my room, and every time he was angrier,
and every time he hurt me more and would say so, would say so
with anger, that he wanted me to hurt. And would force me to
suck him, he'd sit on my chest, take me by the back of my head
and stick his redden penis on my mouth, as inside as it could go,
until I felt like I was going to vomit, until he'd unload his
sperm, every time more copious and nauseating. His semen
would enter my throat in long streams and would turn my
stomach. Two or three times a night he would unload his semen
on me, he'd finish and left my room quickly, shaking, because
he never stayed on my bed again since he saw the shadows.
He'd get to me erect and naked, would take my clothes and
sheets off, place himself between my legs and fuck me hard,
with strength and resentment.

	It all end up because there was nothing left for me, I got
tired and saw, as if it was a dream because it was the first
glimpse of what I was turning into, that Juan was going to die
soon, drunk and full of debts. I would hear him getting home in
the late nigh, tripping with the door and the furniture of the
house, and the next day we'd take some of the cattle to whoever
had beaten him at poker. And he spent all he had drinking and
gambling. It was then that he took me to the cantina. He looked
for me around midnight and took me to his friend's cantina, and
behind the bar, in a storage room were the tezhuino and pulque
were fermented, Don Rogelio father of Julian, took off my
clothes in silence while Juan waited in the outside. As young as
I was, I couldn't do but what he told me to, that wasn't actually
much, I urinated on a clay pot after several drinks of pulque.
That was the first time I got drunk and as Don Rogelio would
ask me if I liked it I answered with the truth: that I did liked it.
He caressed my penis very softly and ask me to pee, holding the
pot at the height of my knees and smile fascinated as I did. All
he did was masturbating in front of me, staring at my naked
body, he took his fat and short penis out of his pants and after a
few strokes he ejaculated on the same pot I had peed. I never
knew how much money did Juan lost that night, but I was kind
of glad he hadn't lost any cattle, because there was no much left.
Anyway, I thought later, it would have been better if there was
no cattle left, since after Juan an Miguel died there was no one
left to take care of it.

	Deciding to leave was easy. There was no life left in
Juan and there was nothing left for me, not even a job.
___________________________________________________
Well, that's it for today, if u liked  it (or didn't), write at
horaacioquiroga@yahoo.com and let me know. As always, the
response I get is the main factor on whether I will or will not
continue this series of stories.

Other reasons to write: you want to take a look to the original in
Spanish, you think you might help me translating this stories,
you think you're too clever since you recognized the name on
my e-mail, or you just waked up in one of those moods when
you just want to write.

Anyway, thanks and have a nice day.