The village elders always talk about paradise. In our tongue, it is known as Tlalocan. Our peaceful island is paradise. The cyan sea surrounded our island, where we fished and extracted pearls to trade with the mainland. Our small village is by the beach, in a small clearing in the jungle. Until a few years ago. That is when those dreaded men arrived on the island with strange clothing covering their whole body and pale skin and hands that didn’t know what to do. The head of the village council went to greet them. I shudder every time I think of them. I was only 7 when they arrived, carrying chopped wood from the nearby forest. The village considered them gods and presented them with the luxuries of our island.…show more content… As he left his boat and clambered onto ours, I recognized him. Christopher Columbus. Taking the opportunity of our distracted crew, one man snuck up on me and untied me. As I stared perplexedly, he winked and retreated to his position. Columbus made it up to the ship and approached me close enough for me to smell his musty breath.
You people never learn. Alas, this means you, dear boy, will have to go the way your beloved Tlatoani did.” He sneered and slashed me on the cheek.
Unfazed, I stared back into the icy blue eyes, “Never! I never learn!” and used my newly freed hands to slice Columbus with my knife. As he collapsed to the ground, the rest of the four remaining crew scrambled to attack him. I was ready, however, and stabbed and slashed each one in succession. These ‘gods’ bleed the same red as Tlatoani did. I turned to my ally, standing on the ship.
“Go,” he said, he said. “I will cover this up”. Be wary of the European explorer patrols on the mainland as well.” After confirming Columbus was alive, I jumped into the water and swam to my little boat, which was floating a few hundred meters away. I clambered onto it and paddled towards the
