Rating: PG-13

Genre: Historical Fiction/Murder

Overview: It has been months since this powerful civilization has seen any sort of rain. The people blame the lack of rain on the anger of the gods, specifically the god of rain, Chac. This has led to an increase in sacrifices to attempt to please the god. Yet as more sacrifices occur, no rain has fallen. Tensions heat up between the people and the religious elite and the threat of a rebellion looms in the air. A wealthy and well respected merchant, Gus, offers his son as a sacrificial victim to attempt to calm the two sides. He places his son in the hands of the religious elite, hoping Chac will accept this offer, making his son a savior to the people.

***

The Temple sweated blood in the steaming sun. Hot rays pierced through the puffy white clouds that left an impression of hope. Clouds means there's a chance of rain, and a chance of rain means water will finally return to the jungle.

A crowd had gathered below the enormous Temple. A long flight of endless stairs led to the Temple Mount where a man dressed in a ritualistic costume stood with his hands hovering something red before the crowd. He wore a hat of feathers that sprung out like the hairs of a frenzied cat. The man was decorated in jewels. He wore silver coined earrings, green beaded bracelets, and a moldy stone necklace that looked like it weighed several pounds.

His face was scary to say the least. Four slashes rain down the top of his eyebrows down to his mouth starting from the left eye and evening its way out towards the right eye. The marks seemed so real, like a jaguar had added color to his face before the ceremony began. His nose was pierced from left nostril to right nostril with a yellow bone. Besides the heavy necklace that wrapped around his shoulders and extended down to his belly, the man wore no shirt. All he had were decorative shorts that were stripped with red and yellow and had designs of small figures performing such ritualistic acts as he was performing now.

Although the man seemed fearless in front of the massive crowd below, he knew his power was dwindling. For months he has been performing the same ritual to please the gods-specifically the rain god Chac. Yet, for months he has received no answer. Not a single drop of rain has fallen for months, and the reservoirs were drying out.

But that wasn't all. No water means no crops, and no crops meant no food. The population of the empire had surged over the past century to over 11 million people. With more people being added to the community, new farmland had to be provided in order to grow enough food to support the population. Forests were cleared down. Trees were burnt, animals scurried away from the flames. Little did they know how devastating clearing the forest was.

Trees are some of the most important species of plants out there. Not only are they resourceful, but they provide a biodiverse environment for many animals, and shade to cool the temperature of the surrounding areas. However, the most important role trees play, especially in this area of Central America, is linked to water. Trees act as a living reservoir, because they are able to cycle water through a natural process of evaporation and transpiration (the giving off of water vapor).

No matter how smart the people were, they were not capable yet of acquiring such information. At first, the people were instructed by the religious leaders that it was the anger of the gods, specifically Chac, that have led to such a severe drought. The normal offerings weren't sufficient enough for these deities, and thus had to be improved.

The people, looking for any possible solution to this problem, went along with what they saw as the wisdom of the religious leaders.

But after following their advice for months, the people grew frustrated and impatient. People began dying of thirst and starvation. The heat from the steamy sun wasn't the only thing adding to the hot air of the community. Tensions flared and talks of a rebellion were on the rise. After all, what is the use of a leader if they cannot provide for the prosperity of his/her people.

The man standing atop the Temple Mount recited the very familiar words without even giving it a second thought, "May this sacrifice please Chac, the god of rain. May he use his lightning ax to strike the clouds and provide us with his life sustaining rain."

He held up something red to the sky. There was plenty of light out, but the Temple sat so high up on the Mount that it was hard to see what it was. But the people already knew what it was. They have been to many of these ritualistic ceremonies to know what was in the man's hand.

And what he would do with it.

The man turned behind stepped aside and revealed another person chained to a stone slab mounted sideways. The prisoner was yelling and squirming around, but the chains were made of stone and wouldn't budge. Each time he squirmed, he would cut himself against the rough stone cuffs and blood would trickle down his arms and feet.

The man motioned towards the prisoner slowly, like an animal about to pounce on its meal.

The prisoner screamed out loud, "Father you can't do this!"

The sound pierced the sound of silence that fluttered amongst the crowd. Even from stories up, some of what the prisoner said was audible-mainly the word "father."

And Gus heard it from down on the ground.

"Your son cries for you," noted his brother.

Gus simply stared at his son from down below-chained like an animal.

"You sure this will work?" asked his brother.

Gus released a frustrated sigh, "I hope so Shen, I hope so."

Meanwhile Gus' son screamed from atop the Temple, "You know this will not work. It hasn't worked for months."

Gus heard his son's cries; but that's all he head-a cry.

"I sure do hope the priest is right about this one."

Gus snapped, "Do you have to constantly remind me about the mistake I made?"

Shen caught him, "So you don't believe anymore either?"

Gus fought back, "I wouldn't haven't given my son up if I didn't believe."

Shen reminded him, "But you just said..."

Gus cut him off, "Enough! I will not argue now while my son is about to be sacrificed."

The priest approached the son, no more than 18 years old, and revealed the bloody dagger in his hand. He traced a circle around the area where his heart was-creating a landing pad.

The son was crying hysterically, "I am Heston, the son of the wealthy merchant Gus. I should not be here. This ceremony is for slaves."

The priest mumbled, "And volunteers."

Heston protested, "But I didn't volunteer."

The priested reminded him, "Your father did that for you."

Heston continued arguing as the priest laid his dagger on a stone counter and dipped his hands in a thick, dark red liquid, "Since when can a man volunteer another man's life? This is not who we are."

The priest grew frustrated, "This is exactly who we are, and if it weren't for non-believers like you, we wouldn't be in this mess! Now say hello to Chac for me."

Heston tried saying another word but it happened so face. The priests nails latched onto the circular landing pad around his heart, twisted in a counterclockwise fashion and the red liquid melted into Heston's chest. His piercing screams echoed across the land. Birds flew from tree tops in the jungle far off in the distance. Within seconds his skin and rib cage caved in and out came a pulsating heart.

Heston stood alive long enough to see the priest clutching his tangible life-force in his hands. The priest casted a wickedly sinister smile and turned his back on the dying Heston. He approached the edge of the Temple and upheld Heston's heart to the crowd. The crowd cheered down below, not the loudest cheer they had given off, but a cheer nonetheless.

Then the priest held the heart in the light rays of the sun and brought it down to his face.

Heston managed to live long enough to see the priest turn into a cannibal before he bobbed his head down in defeat, blood still dripping from his chest into a puddle below his corpse.

The crowd chanted, "Chac, Chac, Chac, Chac, Chac."

The priest lifted his hand and reveled half of a heart. Besides the entrance of the Temple Mount was two large fire-pits. He tossed the heart in one and had some other priests toss Heston's body in the other.

In a deep bellow voice, the priest announced, "May Chac accept the offering of Heston Dreg, son of Gus Dreg, as a valuable sign of our gratitude and our worship of his almighty power."

***

Another week passed by and nothing great came from the sacrifice. Multiple other sacrifices followed Heston, but the people were mostly slaves and prisoners of war. No one had the elite status that Heston did, and no one felt more guilty than his father.

"Gus, it's over. The priests have lied to us. They promised rain would come out of his sacrifice, yet not a single drop has fallen. The people grow restless."

"Shen, why does it matter to me what the people think?"

Shen replied, "Because they respect you. An elite merchant like you offering up your one and only son in belief of the priests was enough to calm the people. But seeing that your son's sacrifice bought about nothing, they wonder what your next move is going to be."

Gus released a snorted chuckle, "Me? Why do they look to me for approval of this rebellion?"

"Because they respect you. You have provided for their means of living for years. You have sold them clothing, food, and jewels at the lowest prices than any other vendor. When people couldn't afford something one day, you took credit or let it slide. You are very well appreciated amongst the community. Whether you like it or not, you have been in the lives and homes of nearly every single family in the community."

Gus sighed knowing what his brother was saying was true, "Yet I still do not know what they expect out of me."

"They want your support. Come out and say that you support a rebellion and they will follow it. Changes will be made, and the old way of ruling will be over."

"But if I support such an effort, it will mean war. I could put you and anyone close to me at jeopardy. There's no doubt the Ajaw will have me join my son."

"We will die either under the Ajaw's rule or die fighting against it. At least when we fight we show courage rather than submission."

Gus weighed the options: submission and peace while people die of starvation and thirst, or courage and war, where people will die from spears instead of empty stomachs.

"The people are ready and willing to fight."

Gus inquired, "And what happens if we win?"

"Then we will do to the priest what they have done to your son." He laughed, "Maybe then the gods will listen."

"And how will a rebellion bring us more water?"

"Well once we remove the Ajaw and his supporters, we can invest in new sources of water, like the Yaxja or the Petén. Instead of wasting our men fighting pointless wars for more sacrificial victims, we can use them to build canals to deliver the water from the lakes to us."

"That is impossible. Those lakes are miles away."

"It is possible; the scientists and builders said it can work."

"But we need water now."

"Yes, and we will need water tomorrow and the next day. We must stop depending on the gods to do the work for us. We need to take our survival into our own hands."

At this point, with his brother so invested in the idea, Gus felt he had nothing left to lose. Without his son, his business will die when he dies. His wife died of Malaria years ago and for years he was without a wife, raising his son during his rebellious teenage years on his own.

He never realized how much he loved his son until today, until after he had lost him. He was thinking of the people. He had believed that his son was the savior of civilization. His sacrifice will be sung by mothers to their children for ages to come. He was trying to immortalize his son through this sacrifice.

Instead, he has lost the one thing that meant everything to him.

Gus turned to Shen, "Rally the people."

***

It took three days from Gus coming out and approving a rebellion for an all out civil war to take hold. Blood spilled on both sides in numbers that exceeded the millions. Those who did not die of a spear to the chest, died of starvation or thirst, just as Gus had predicted.

Some were smart to avoid the battle and move away. They took their families to the peninsula when the war seemed to be getting out of control.

But the people had enemies from the outside as well, and they saw this civil war as a way to get back at the great center of an empire that raided their villages for sacrificial lambs.

Within a couple of months the population had fallen sharply. A little under a quarter of the population remained, and yet very little rain had fallen. Any rain that did fall, was more like a tease. A bit of drizzle and mist hear and there, but nothing substantial.

Such a once mighty empire was extinguished by the forces of nature. At their peak, the Mayans reached 11 million strong across Central America. But outside enemies and inside civil unrest spelled the doom of such a powerful empire.

And it all started with a drought.

Some Mayans still remain, although not as powerful as they were in the past. Some may think a meteorite ended the Mayan civilization, or a disease. However, I can assure you it was I who ended such a mighty civilization. They thought sacrificing our most greatest creation was a smart way to please us.

Instead, it made me withhold my lightning ax.