A story of a Native American boy. |
Rising Sun By Jack Tiggleman Prologue In a land that we now call Mexico, there lived a very peaceful tribe, called the Maya. The Maya lived with peace and harmony with the surrounding land, and as most tribes do, they only take what they need from the environment. Over time, they were able to make larger communities, thanks in a large part to farming, and a market that everyone ran. Our story begins on a dark and peaceful night, when there was an entire Maya tribe on their toes. They knew that their chief, Night Star, and his wife were about to have a baby. Eventually, this baby would become their leader if it was a boy, and it would just become another person to do the chores if it was a girl. The people did not know what to hope for, so they just wished it would be a healthy baby. Just then, the city messenger, Rushing River, came forward from the home of Night Star. The whole crowd silenced, knowing that the announcement of the baby was coming. He cleared his throat, and bellowed, “The child of Night Star is…” As he paused, the whole place was as quiet as a grave. “A boy named Rising Sun.” Chapter One At five years old, Rising Sun had already mastered the bow and arrow. He had killed his first monkey at age six, and first deer at age seven. Now he is already twelve years old, and is among the best at hunting in his tribe. He has pinpoint accuracy, and can spot a weak monkey from a mile away. “Mom, why can’t I go hunting?” he exclaimed. “I can catch one of those sweet little monkeys I know you love.” The meat. Yes, the nice and juicy meat. That is usually all that Rising Sun ate, and you could obviously tell by his huge muscles. He doesn’t care what kind of meat it is, deer, monkey, anything. “As I’ve told you a thousand times, the festival is today! You need to get ready,” his mom replied. “But mom, that’s girl stuff. Men do stuff like hunt, not farm,” he argued. “Well, today isn’t just any day, it’s a festival of the Sun God. Don’t you want to have a good year in crops?” How could I have forgotten about the crops? The crops are one of the most important parts of the Mayan culture, and the chief’s family always had the best crops. Rising Sun’s mom usually preferred beans, corn and squash, although she would try something else every once in awhile. “Yes mom, I guess so…” So then Rising Sun made his way slowly to the cornfield, were to his great relief there was some of his friends, like Eagle Talon. |