Chapter-2: Dream a Little More
The three men smoked and dipped on their Puma Rojo tobacco with pride. Their pleasurable work lay on the ground, covered in dirt and sweat. The job approached its final completion; and, each man rested and gazed up at the dim night sky in alternating rhythms, waiting to finish their business.
Behind the battered woman, three Arabian horses tugged on their ropes with a frantic repeated purpose. They gnawed and yanked on their cords, desperate to loosen the restraints from around the thick pine trees.
Each horse consumed an unbelievable presence that demanded their full attention—an approaching cataclysmic danger from the west. It felt massive and jagged with a bottomless hunger. But, the three men ignored that too.
“Ever notice that on some nights,” said Este, “the sky looks dimmer than most.” He puffed out grey smoke and picked his nose with a chubby pink, pinky finger. Finding a big one, Este smiled and flicked it away with pride. Another puff of his smoke and Este adjusted his sweaty black hair, and coughed, and marveled at his own heat and stench.
“Mensadas,” said Elotro. He shook his head with annoyance and scratched at his crotch, and then his armpits. “How can the night sky lose its light? There isn’t even a cloud, gordito.” Elotro reached into his lower lip and scooped out a chunk of his dip, and flung it over his left shoulder. He stood taller than Este and moved with a much stronger and thinner frame. Still, apart from his graying brown hair, Elotro looked much younger than Este.
Aquel grinned and adjusted his wad of dip. The childish bickering of his two men never failed to amuse him. He smoked with his head inclined up, leaning back against a solid pine tree. He stood five full centimeters taller than Elotro, and had brown sun-baked skin. But, most prideful of his qualities, Aquel boasted of his long black hair and of his medium muscular frame—proclaiming himself to be more vascular than any man in the western hemisphere, which he was.
Rustling leaves caught Aquel’s attention from above. He exhaled two rings of smoke and looked up. A squirrel jumped from one branch to another, all the while gripping a pecan in its hands. He stared at the nimble creature with intense fascination.
The little beast hunched over, protective of its nut, eating with quick greedy bites. It stuffed its cheeks beyond capacity, and continued to eat some more.
And why not, thought Aquel, respecting the true nature of the squirrel. Two more concentric smoke rings puffed out of him, as he continued to stare at the squirrel and the nut. The natural scene moved him with heat, flowing hunger into his solid core and eager hips.
Honest desire pumped through Aquel as he winked at the squirrel with pride. Why not, he thought, why not? He placed his new Ehlis-1818 revolver pistols on the ground, between the oil lamp and the chains and the rope. Why not, he stretched into a smooth yawn, grinning like a twelve year old boy on Christmas day. One more delicious puff and he flicked his rolled up cigarette at a neighboring pecan tree. He turned, glared at his present on the ground and smiled at her with an honest look.
She lay covered in sweat and dirt and sticky oily spit. Her blue checkered dress—ripped into six ragged pieces—half covered her steamy-defeated body.
Aquel tugged at his stiffness below his belt, and wiped the pine sap from his hands on his stained burgundy shirt. He skipped into a foxtrot and danced toward the woman, each of his steps filled with a zigzag of passion and pure feeling.
“Perros of the night,” said Aquel, “break time is over. I’m having me another round before this puta dies off. Where’s the bag of pork lard, cabrones?”
The other two men looked around and searched for the gooey lard. Este spoke up with confident surprise, “right here, jefe.” He stood and reached forward with the bag, happy to please his boss.
Aquel snatched the creamy pork lard away. And, he chuckled. The bag slicked and smeared over his hand, causing his attention to throb harder and fuller. Such a sweet pig, thought Aquel. He reached into the bag and scooped out a syrupy hand full of cool viscous lard.
“Pinche Perra is drier than a desert’s wet dream,” said Aquel. “Even with this stuff, she still kinda bothers me … eh-heh, just the way I like ‘em.”
All three men laughed with boundless pride as Aquel approached the woman on the ground. He placed the pork lard to his side, and smirked at his present. “Here I’s come again, piggy.” He unbuckled his pants with his clean hand; and, he moved in close to her, licking over his lower lip.
“Squeal piggy, squeal.” Aquel pursed his lips and dropped oily spit on her naked lower back. His smile curled up at the corners, tickled by the way she flinched and groaned, and whimpered. “That’s a good, pig,” he said with honest admiration. His nose flared wider and he consumed more of her miserable delectable stench.
Aquel hinged forward and judged his piggy present. “Guilty, piggy-pig-pig.” He twisted his left boot into her right thick butt cheek. It burned him with excitement to see his spit wrap around her lower back and pool on the ground.
“Such a delicious savory meat,” said Aquel. Goose bumps of richness rippled down his legs and up his back, and into his hard attention. He relished the naked thickness and light cinnamon brown skin beneath his black boot. He giggled like a little girl and spat on her some more, and pretended to be bashful at receiving such a present.
The woman moaned in a dizzy, hot yellow and blue spark of a mess. She coughed a few times, spitting out dirt and small chips of pebbles. Muddy blood clumped around her nose and mouth. And her left eye refused to open—swollen tight in deep rhythmic purple pulses.
Aquel dropped his pants to mid thigh. He squealed and bent forward to touch his piggy prey on her thick ass. She gagged and heaved, crunching into an empty vomit.
“That’s a good, pig. That’s a good, pig.” Aquel spread her cheeks and pulled on her black hair. His smile spread wide open, exposing yellow teeth with bits of slimy tobacco. Drool fell onto the woman’s curvy hips and thighs, and he laughed.
The salty-tart scene stiffened Aquel’s heart much more, and he moaned with euphoria. Courteous, he sang to his pig.
“That’s it, my piggy-pig-pig, squeal a little more for me, my plump fig. So, so, yes-umm, my bitch-umm. Howl nice and howl loud, until you’re dead-umm. But, oh, ho, ho, yes and no. Scream it nice, and cream it tight. All for me, eh, just for me, El Jefe….” He laughed and ….
Instinct slapped in hard, forcing Aquel to stop mid caress. He looked over his shoulder as he tongued over his wad of dip in his lower lip. Danger echoed in his ears and throat and puckered anus, while anger flushed over him in red waves of roars. Someone is trying to take my nut away, he thought.
Aquel shook his head in slow exaggerated arcs. He stood tall and erect, and alert. His annoyance tightened across his rear cheeks, while the steady rumble raised the hairs on his entire back and shifting testicles. From the west, he thought.
The other two men jumped into action—each man reaching for their new toys: six round, Ehlis-1818 revolvers.
Off to the side, the three horses broke free. They whinnied and sprinted to the east as though in a death race.
“Chingasos, what in the putas is that,” called out Elotro. He quivered with a tight stomach. “It don’t feel right, jefe.” He wiped sweat from his forehead, brushing aside thin brown hair with the back of his hand and forearm.
“Could be a stampede,” said Este with a chunky smile as he checked his pistols.
“A stampede?” asked Aquel. He flicked his gooey hand several times and wiped his palm and fingers on his lower pant legs. “Up on this mountain? No mames, pendejo.” He lifted his beige pants, and stepped over the lard bag.
Above the tree line the sky filled with birds of various sizes flying east. They chirped and shrieked, moving with flapping determination.
“Now the night sky looks much dimmer than normal,” said Elotro. He laughed with a nervous smile and pointed his pistols at the dark rumble from the woods.
Aquel stared at his revolvers near the oil lamp. Quickly, he buckled up his belt, adjusted his pants, and moved to pick up his two guns.
Este, Elotro and Aquel looked at one another and huddled closer together. They backed into each other and braced for something big and monstrous to appear.
The rumble grew louder and the ground trembled.
Altogether, from the dark woods, there emerged a rushing multitude of creatures: possums, raccoons, squirrels, prairie dogs, wolves, jack rabbits, mule dears and even two mountain lions.
The men fired a few rounds into the stampede. It didn’t matter. The animals ignored them.
Aquel noticed and whistled for a cease fire. He raised his pistols into the air and moved them from side to side.
Several mule dears glided over the battered woman. Two wolves jumped off her naked scratched up back; and one small turtle rubbed against her sweaty thigh as it hobbled by, thrusting and reaching with quivering head jerks.
“Look at them, pendejos, look,” said Aquel, “they don’t give three shits about us. Save your rounds, hombres.”
“Stay alert, stay alert,” said Este, “they not interested in us; but theys running for a reason. Caracoles from hell … all of them running together like that in one group; it’s got to be real bad.”
“Chinga su hermana, whatever it is,” said Elotro, “it has to be pinche vicious. None of them are attacking one another.”
The three men nodded in agreement and continued their search of the woods, looking from side to side and all around. They waited and waited, expecting the vicious bad thing to appear at any moment. And, they kept their pistols up, eager to kill it and make the unknown shadows go away.
More curious than afraid, the woman on the ground looked up. And she searched the darkness of the woods.
Sweat collected around her one good eye, forcing her to blink often. She rubbed her salty tears away and cleared up her blurred vision. And, she looked again, and she found it. The night looked right back at her.
Glowing ruby eyes shot ice into her inner core, slapping her breath away. She choked and felt hot pee escape in copious amounts. The liquid warmth spread along her thick legs, sending steam into the cold air. That didn’t matter. She was too exhausted and too beaten to think of moving. Instead, her heart tripled jumped at the sight of those ruby burning eyes. And, within another blink, the darkness vanished back into the shadows.
The woman managed to suck in air like a phantom wind spirit, tasting bursts of desperate life into her lungs. She rubbed her face and looked again into the woods. Her good eye widened and twitched, glimpsing a blur of white boots and a white hat, over there in between the pine trees. She choked on her own spit, and coughed with disbelief. And, to her annoyance, her heart wandered into a painful land of hopeful wonderment. Was that a man? She echoed in her heart, was it a man?
Gloom filled tears oozed out of the beaten woman. She sighed with whips of tortuous hope, trying to push the painful lies away, and trying to accept the truth around her. No one would save her; No one cared; and, No miracles were coming this lone night … because, because … she didn’t belong … to anything or to anyone.
The woman gripped two fists full of dirt, and thought, how pathetic I am to dream on this night.
She looked over her shoulder at the three men; and she burned with hatred and wished for their deaths. The three boys quivered next to one another, frightened by the living shadows, like three little toddlers lost in the woods.
Delicious, so delicious, their pain and their misery eased her suffering a bit. She coughed again. And, for a brief moment, she tried to smile, and almost felt like smiling; but, she didn’t.
In all honesty, she let loose a whimper and lowered her head onto her forearms. She closed her right good eye and dug her teeth into her left forearm. Maybe … she thought as her face quaked with random spasms, maybe. She bit down harder on her flesh. Dark rich blood escaped her forearm, the sickening taste spilled out of her mouth and dripped onto the ground.
Hold it in, she thought. Her pain close to her mouth, she tried to push her heart away, and failed. Stuck between hope and despair, she surrendered and released her tears on her other forearm. And, there, she dared to dream a little more.
Thank you
I appreciate your time in reading this blog post. Next Saturday I will upload the first part of Chapter Three: Heart and Soul, from my second novel: Luz Upon The World.
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Total Consciousness 
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