El Ano Pasado Chapter 01
By Jaech Reiter
jaech_reiter@yahoo.co.uk

Copyright 2011 by Jaech Reiter, all rights reserved

A Christmas and New Year's Eve Story Challenge Entry

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This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It contains explicit depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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Chapter 01
Un Nuevo Deseo

"What the fuck is an 'eñe'?"

"Joel, watch your language!!"

"We're in Mexico, Mom," the recently 13-year-old boy said, rolling his eyes. "I doubt anybody here knows our 'language'."

"An 'eñe'," his 12-year-old sister tried to explain, somewhat to his annoyance, "is an 'n' with a tilde over it."

"A what?"

"A tilde," his sister said with exasperated patience.

"What the fuck's a tilde??"

"Joel!!"

"Aagghh, it's just a word, Mom!"

"Joel ......"

"OK, Fine, Dad! What the ..... freak ....... is a fucking tilde? As if I really even care. I don't even know why I'm asking."

His parents sighed. They hoped he wasn't going to ruin the whole vacation.

Joel Tatum and his sister Clara were wandering the markets of Santa Francesca with their parents, Nicholas and Myra, taking in some of the 'traditional' crafts that were a little bit more Mayan than Spanish or Mexican, given the more southerly location of the low-key resort area. It was off-season and conspicuously void of the ridiculous masses of late teens and 20-somethings that flocked the major tourism area farther north; and it wasn't the top season for many 'norteamericano' families, so Joel and Clara were the only white kids in the market, at the moment.

That wouldn't be the case for long, as their cousins, both sets, were due to come in that afternoon. The three families, their dad's brother and sister and their kids, were going to spend 10 days in Mexico, most of it in this town. Joel supposed it COULD be fun, depending on whether he got to hang out more with the cooler cousin, his aunt's 15 year old son, Mike, or the two obnoxious ones, his uncle's boys, Cameron who was 14 and Tyler who was 12.

His aunt's son, Mike, also had a little sister, Ariel who was the same age as Clara, and the girls got along beautifully; on the other side of the family, though, Joel had been a bit distant – and let's face it, rude – at times with his uncle's boys this past year. His mom and dad kept hoping it was an early adolescent phase and that maybe it would be like one of those 'in like a lion, out like a lamb' tempestuous Springs. They could only hope. Meanwhile his sister was trying to teach him Spanish:

"A tilde is the little squiggly mark above the 'n'. So that makes it an 'eñe', like in 'año', which means year. See the sign above the church? 'Feliz Navidad y Feliz Nuevo Año.' It means Merry Christmas and Happy New Year."

"So you're saying it's an 'n'?" Joel said with pronounced boredom already.

"No, it's a different letter, completely, Joel! It's an 'eñe'."

"Whatever, it's an 'n'--- like nobody won't be able to figure out what you're saying anyway. An 'n' is an 'n', Clara."

"Oh you're not even bothering with trying to learn Spanish like Mom and Dad asked!"

She almost stamped her foot in frustration, but caught herself. She didn't want to look too much like a little girl in these arguments. Somehow her older brother always brought out the worst in her; and he was forever looking for an instance to point out the fact that he was older and more mature.

"I know all the Spanish I need to know with Google translator," Joel said as he waved his I-Pod at her.

"You weren't supposed to bring that, Joel."

"Ahhhh, is the little baby going to tell?"

"No." But she said it most unhappily, as if forced into such an agreement. "You just weren't supposed to bring it. You should be trying to learn about and appreciate another people's culture. You should try to be more receptive."

"You know what you should try to be more of? Relaxed." Joel responded and then laughed and picked up a small statue of man with an overly large and erect penis. "Here you go, this is what you need. A little Spanish guy with a big dick to chill you out."

Joel laughed, but Clara flushed, both with embarrassment and fury. "I am going to tell Mom and Dad about that!!"

Except when Clara looked around her parents had already moved off to further down the stalls. They were laughing and enjoying themselves. Maybe she shouldn't run over there and spoil that so quickly. Joel just shrugged his shoulders and went back to looking at the curious statuary at the table before them.

"Por favor, Señor, this piece is not Spanish like you said," A darker little lady said from across the table. She surprised him by speaking English. "This is a Mayan god -- Backlum-chaam. And you should take care what you say when you hold him. You may channel a prayer."

"Que interesante!" (which is to say, 'How interesting') Clara said, as usual trying to sound a bit more mature than her age.

Joel just rolled his eyes at her linguistic showing off. "So what is he the god of?" He asked the lady.

"Oh, I think you know," the woman said with a very slight smile. It was so hard to tell from her complexion if there was a blush there or not. "He is the god of male sexuality."

"Oh ......." Joel said, blushing even deeper himself and setting the figurine back down on the table. "Right ........that."

"So, are all these little statues Mayan gods?" Clara asked.

"Not all, but many. But only a few are actual prayer effigies."

"So ....." Clara really was wanting to learn more about the local culture, and she was interested in how this worked. "You just hold a statue and say what you want?"

"No, Señorita, it is only unintended speech that they will act on, many times to teach a lesson about respect." At this point the small woman glanced briefly at Joel, but then continued in her explanation to Clara. "If there is something specific that you want, you make a burnt offering before the effigy."

"Oh. That's a little complicated. I don't think I'm up for sacrificing any little animals," she aid, disappointed.

"No, but there is another way. You write on a piece of paper your wish for the god to fulfill – but you must be very careful how you say it – and you burn the paper before the effigy. Later, you pour out a portion of food and drink at an altar of the god, and the prayer is sealed. But be careful for what you ask. The gods have some free room in their interpretation."

"Um ..... how much to try it?" Clara timidly asked.

"Ah geez, Clara, you can't be serious."

"You know, try being a little more respectful to people, Joel. I want to try it."

"It costs nothing." The woman said, "Only what of your heart you put in. To charge would anger the gods against me."

"But I wouldn't want to write a prayer for that ......uh ....him." Clara pointed awkwardly to the figurine with the grossly enlarged and erect penis.

"Then you should ask the favors of Akna, a mother goddess." With that she pushed another effigy to their end of the table and set an offering bowl in front of it.

"Just write on a piece of paper and burn it? In that bowl?"

"Si, and I will give you a match to light it. But you must write in Spanish, Señorita."

"Spanish?" Joel asked a bit cynically. "I thought you said these were Mayan gods."

"Si, but we are in the shadow of a Spanish church. To do otherwise would be disrespectful. Besides," she added with a smile, "I do not think Google translates into Mayan."

"Well, don't worry about me; I'm not going to do one. And how do you know what Google is?"

The woman chose to ignore the second comment from the arrogant boy, but just gave a demure nod and said softly, "Suit yourself."

Clara was meanwhile looking through her pocket dictionary and trying to write her request down on an old piece of paper that the woman provided. Joel just lazed over to the next stall and tried on a couple of woven hats, wondering how much the woman really was going to charge his sister once she was hooked. Eventually he walked back over.

She was still writing.

"Geez, Clara, are you writing a novel?"

"No. It's just a short sentence, but I have to keep looking it up to make sure I am writing it correct. I want to do it on my own, but I want it to be right."

Joel sighed and smiled. "Let me show to you the ascendancy of technology, oh younger and significantly more backward one. No offense," he added the last part for the lady across the table, who just smiled and nodded.

"Of course not, Señor, but you wish to try a request?"

"Only to prove to my sister the superiority of the I-Pod to time wasted studying a language when you're supposed to be on vacation. So I can ..... uh ..... ask anything ...... um ..... from this guy?" Joel embarrassingly indicated Backlum-chaam.

"Of course;" the woman tried to hide her smile, "anything that is within his power to grant. Be careful, though, for how you wish."

"You don't have to worry about careful when the power of the Internet is literally in the palm of your hand, ma'am."

"Agh, good grief," Clara sighed. Now it was her turn to roll her eyes. Joel meanwhile starting typing into his palm pilot and was blushing at the thought that the woman probably knew exactly what was on his mind with this particular deity. He wanted a bigger dick; and he wanted girls. What else would any 13-year-old American male worth his own balls ask for?

Anything else? Well, since he was asking, and since he was on vacation, there was no reason that Christmas Day should be the only day with gifts. Why not just ask for the gifts to just keep on coming through the New Year?

"OK, watch this Clara." Joel typed in a quick message on the translator page and very quickly said: "There. Done. Now I just copy it down."

What he had typed into the translator was 'I want a bigger dick and lots of sex in my Happy New Year."

What the translator said was: 'Quiero una polla más grande y mucho sexo en mi Feliz Año Nuevo.'

What Joel wrote, though, was: 'Quiero una polla mas grande y mucho sexo en mi feliz ano nuevo.'

'Oh! The gifts! I forgot about those,' Joel thought.

'Keep it coming to me in the New Year,' he typed in, and got back: 'Mantenga venir a mí en el Año Nuevo.'

When he wrote, he forgot to qualify 'the gifts;' and what he wrote was a second sentence that said, 'Mantenga venir en mí en el ano nuevo.'

He wasn't paying attention to his smaller words, either.

"Would you like me to read it?" The woman offered. She had already read through Clara's for her. "Make sure the Spanish is correct?"

"Uh ....no. That's OK." Joel didn't want the lady or anybody else reading about his request for a bigger dick. Or lots of sex in the New Year. He took the match, struck it, and set the flame against the paper, dropping the burning supplication into the bowl that was set before Backlum-chaam.

'Quiero una polla mas grande y mucho sexo en mi feliz ano nuevo. Mantenga venir en mí en el ano nuevo.'

The supplication burnt quickly and went up as smoke. All of a sudden there was a strong wind that blew through the market on the square. It felt like it was heavy with rain, but there was no wetness. The men in the square all seemed to stand a bit straighter, a bit taller; and just as quickly it was gone again.

"That was weird. Is there a storm coming?"

"No storm, señor; sometimes the winds through the square are quite strong. Señorita, do you wish to send yours?"

"Go ahead, Clara. Get your spooky experience so you can be happy; but hurry up, Mom and Dad are waving to us."

Clara lit her own and watched as it went up in smoke: 'Por favor, quiero que mi hermano seria muy mas receptivo.'

She wanted her brother to be more receptive to other people and cultures. Although she realized' as it burned rapidly, that she had forgotten to put in the part about 'to other people and cultures'. Oh well. She supposed this really was just something for her to experience, just like her brother said, although she wished that she could have experienced it with someone more pleasant.

As the last of the smoke went up, a rumbling went through the ground beneath them, and both kids looked startled, except the woman waved it away as no concern. She explained it as a minor earth movement. They got them all the time in Mexico. They were really only dangerous in Mexico City.

"Well, Muchas gracias, Señora, but we really do have to go," Clara said cheerfully. "Merry Christmas, and Feliz Año Nuevo !!"

"Yeah, what she said." Joel added and led the way back to their parents.

"Remember," the woman called to them, "You must give a sacrifice of food and drink to the gods before the prayers are honored."

Joel and Clara joined their parents on the Cathedral side of the market. It was the 300 year old Catedral de Santa Francesca de los Indios.

"Kids, we're going to take a look in the Cathedral before lunch. It's said to contain some of the finest examples of early Upland Maya-inspired Catholic art in the world. Should be very educational!"

Joel groaned slightly but followed his parents inside. He was pretty sure he wouldn't see anything resembling the Backlum-chaam in here, but he was also pretty sure he wouldn't be very interested in what he would find. Except he couldn't help but notice how eerily familiar the Mary effigies were to the Akna statuette that his sister had offered up her prayer. He and his sister found themselves separated again from their parents and walked up to a priest – who was definitely not from around here – giving some explanations of the Cathedral, in English, to the first other white family that the kids had seen since arriving.

The priest had just finished explaining to the family that Santa Francesca was the patron saint of autos and driving.

"So ....there weren't cars way back then," Joel said, "then why have a church to her?"

"Well," the priest offered, "She was also a patron saint of Lay People."

"Oh cool," Joel said. "So, if I light a candle to her, I might get laid on this vacation?"

Clara looked shocked and horrified, unable to believe what her brother just said, much less come up with any apology. The girl and her mother of the other family were just surprised. The boy, maybe a little older than Joel, just laughed, and the dad tried to stifle a laugh.

"Uh ....um ....n-no ...." The priest answered, trying to recover himself, "No, the Patron Saint of the Laity, which means the people of the Church who are not of the Clergy. That is why she is called Santa Francesca of the Indians. When the church was first consecrated, the Faithful among the natives here felt as though the Spanish Clergy did not really speak for them, and they wanted someone more trusted to act as an intermediary – thus, Santa Francesca. Eventually the town was named for her as well. If you, uh ....will follow me, I will tell you the story of the Baptistry."

The priest gave Joel a strange look as if the boy were in some way disturbed and walked away with the other family. The boy of the family lagged behind a bit and said:

"That was very funny. I like your joke. You are staying where for vacation?"

Clara twisted her face in disgust that someone would encourage her brother's immaturity. She did not share the sentiment.

"Uh, at the Cortelan." Joel said, though curious about the accent. "Where are you from?"

"I am from Holland. And we are also at the Cortelan. Maybe I will see both of you there later?" The boy asked, but then saw Clara turn up her nose, and he laughed and said to Joel, "Oh, well, maybe I will just see you, then. I am Dirck."

"Uh, yeah. Sure. Oh, I'm Joel. The snotty one's my sister, Clara."

Clara still wouldn't look at the boy. How dare he encourage her brother to be so disgusting and disrespectful in a church?

"Yes, OK. It is very nice to meet you both. My sister Lena, you see over there, and my brother Maarten --- he is Lena's, um ....how do you say ....twin? --- He is not feeling well and is back at the resort. Maybe you will meet him, too."

"Yeah, sure. I mean, there's nobody else to talk to."

"Yes, well, good, but now I must go. My parents await me. Good bye. I will see you later. Maybe at the pool tonight?"

But Dirck really didn't wait for an answer, instead he just turned and went over to join his family, the priest looking relieved that Joel did not follow.

"There you two are," they heard their mom behind them. "Clara, dear, are you all right? You look a little constipated."

"Mom!" Clara looked around embarrassed, as well as pissed that Joel was smiling about the untimely question.

"Well, dear, I'm your mother. I need to know these things. I'm afraid, kids, that we will have to come back to the Cathedral another time. Your father's stomach started growling and he doesn't want to eat in the square. So we're going back to the resort for lunch.

Back at the resort, the family ate out in the back Courtyard where a large double-sided grille divided a lunch area from one of the larger swimming pools. You could order a full lunch from their side, and short order snacks and quick lunches from the pool side.

Joel was bored and walked around the area while waiting for their order to come up. He looked over on the pool side and realized just how inviting it seemed. He then turned his attention to the grille, and a Mexican boy about 2 years older than him smiled a big smile and nodded before going back to his work at the grille. Joel wondered idly how old you had to be around here to start working full time? That was when he noticed a peculiar glyph in the stones at the base of the grille. The stones looked quite old.

He bent down to get a closer look.

"It is the name of the god to whom this was an altar," Joel heard behind him, and he spun around to see that the Mexican-accented English came from a young local man in his twenties, who appeared to possibly be just looking up from checking out Joel's butt. But that couldn't be. He looked to be a maitre d' of sorts. "This grille was built on an altar from many centuries ago. It was here that people would burnt offerings to the god whose name you were seeing in that rock."

"Oh," Joel said, "What god is it?"

"A Mayan god. Pagan, but very popular in this area. His name was Backlum-chaam."

Joel gave a start. How weird was that? Twice in one day.

"You know him?" The man asked, interested in the reaction he saw on Joel's face.

"Uh ..... no ....just .....you know ..... name sounds funny."

"Yes, yes, of course, Señor. He was the god of ......well, ....." at this point, the man looked at the boy tending the grille. Both said something to each other in Spanish and laughed. The 15 year old boy again smiled at Joel, gave him a conspiratorial wink and went back to the steaks and chicken on the grill. The older man continued, choosing his words: "Well, he was a god you might come to if you wanted good crops in the field and a large ....oh ....family... Yes....It is still a popular grill for many guests. Many men like to eat from this grill before going ..... back to their rooms."

The man smiled and held his hands out apologetically, as if to say he was sorry he could not be more specific, and at the same time sorry that what he said was the simple truth. The older Mexican boy just grinned even more broadly, almost laughing as he looked from a slightly embarrassed Joel to a slightly amused maitre d'.

"Uh, yeah, I think I got it," Joel answered. He understood what Backlum-chaam was about. This was his altar, still, in a way, and any food off the grill was thought to be an aphrodisiac. Great. He hoped that didn't mean he would have to listen to his parents going at it that night. "I think I should probably go back to my table now."

As Joel returned, he could hear a fast-paced and carefree exchange in Spanish behind him, sure that both the native speakers were getting a kick out of shocking the Norteamericano boy. But soon he was lost in the joy of what came off that grill, as the food was incredible and he was even hungrier than he thought.

Strangely enough, he felt his penis get as hard as the long, stone one had been on the statue in the market. At least he was sitting down; he was pretty sure this one would show through his shorts.