Pyramid Dwellers: CACAO - COMPÈRING THE MAYAN ELEMENTS

By C. L. Loos

Imagine waking up in a cage, in the dark and in a jungle. Uno was a fearful youngster from Los Angeles who was forced to take a trip to Belize with his father. While in Belize Uno chooses to enter a new realm. While in this new realm, he discovers that a universal Parent traps civilizations under pyramids due to their heinous crimes. Uno encount

• Language: English
• Publisher: DWB Fashion, LLC.
• Release date: Jun 17, 2017
• ISBN: 9780998853314

C. L. Loos

C.L.Loos has a bachelor's degree in Business/Finance and served in the United States Navy. After spending many years in traditional jobs, she has come full circle to storytelling. Born in Santa Monica, California, her mission is to write fun, 'fast reads' while guiding the audience back to childhood discoveries.

Book preview

Chapter One

Mi Familia

R

ecently, my life changed. I began an adventure that is almost indescribable. If someone told me this story before it all happened to me, I would have responded with a laugh and That’s a good one! But I want to tell you my story just the same if you dare to believe.

I saw on TV the other night that the police must interview witnesses to a crime immediately or the details begin to get lost or rewritten. I don’t believe that for my story. Everything seems cemented in stone. My story revolves around my family dynamic so let me begin by telling you about me and my family plus where we lived.

I don’t like to brag but I had the best backyard on the block. We lived on a cul-de-sac, and my dad had built a full basketball court in our backyard while Mom had a trampoline put up on one end of our enormous lawn. Plus we had a pool and hot tub. My little sister Dos and I were not allowed near the pool or hot tub because we had not yet taken any swimming lessons. I was only permitted to dip my toes in, and that was only when Mom was present. It was almost cruel to have a pool and not be able to use it.

In the suburbs, backyards were minuscule, so having a large yard that was kid-friendly helped me make friends. Well at least be nearby and not shunned by all the cool kids. But, I had a hard time with people, my mom called it being shy. She also told me she was shy when she was little, but she grew out of it. I am not sure what that means really. I called it having a hard time around people. I never felt comfortable around anyone except my family because I did not trust others. I was always worried they would physically or mentally harm me. The other kids could zing back answers to questions that seemed to pry but I could not. I simply studied their reactions. I almost always watched them from afar. It became a tool of observation where I am now very well practiced. To me, it was like putting puzzles pieces together. I would imagine different outcomes for each situation that I watched. But like I said I became very well practiced especially during summer vacation.

At my house during the summer, there were frequent basketball games in my backyard. Sometimes I played with the neighborhood kids to make my mom happy, and sometimes I just studied them playing while I was pretending to be occupied by my hand held game so I didn’t appear as weird.

I hated that I was always cautious and fearful. I thought if I could watch other kids carefully and then mimic them, I would feel less like an outsider.

During a game, I overheard someone say my mom was a yummy mummy. I had never heard that term before, but I assumed it meant my mom was pretty, and she was. Dad always boasted Mom had won several beauty contests back in Jamaica where she grew up. Her skin was a blend of coffee and cream with the most striking light green eyes.

I asked her about that one day and she told me told me not to pay any attention to Dad’s comments because beauty is in the eye of the beholder and what’s on the inside is much more important than what is on the outside.

I listened carefully but rebutted this in my head because to me, my mom was the most beautiful person on the planet; welcoming and loving. I guess you can have beauty both on the inside and on the outside. My mom’s demeanor was always reserved, but there was never any doubt how much she loved us. She stayed at home and took care of my family, she was very special, and I knew it.

Dad, on the other hand, was not so friendly. Dad was originally from El Salvador but grew up in the States. He was tall and thin with brown wavy hair. He wore business suits every day, and he rarely smiled. He was always strict with my sister and me. He would preach education and make sure our homework was not only complete before he arrived home from work, but he expected extra credit projects to also be well in the works.

His daily routine was always the same. He got up and went to work before it was light outside and frequently came home after dark. We could hear the garage door open and shut when he arrived. Once through the door to the house he would put his bags into his office then he would sit at the breakfast bar and chat with Mom while she prepared our dinner.

Thinking about Dad’s office, it was always off limits to the rest of the family. Sometimes I would stand at the door and stare at all the items in there and recognize that every item was exactly in its place. I couldn’t understand why Dad found this place superior to us but I always hoped and imagined Dad was being hypnotized by some unseen creatures that lived in the office and that is why he was so distant. For this reason I never stepped in.

I also recall my heart would leap with excitement when Dad came through the door each night from work waiting for him to acknowledge me; but he never did. Then I would shrink back into one of my games feeling disappointment and lonely. My pain drew my attention to observing the other kids occasionally playing with their fathers, all except mine of course. I would see them playing catch in their yards. I felt like my dad didn’t like me.

At the breakfast bar, when Mom and Dad were done chatting, Mom would call my sister and I to set the table. Mom always insisted my family sit down at the dining room table. During dinner time no electronics were allowed. That included the T.V. Mom’s dinners were pretty good but secretly, I must tell you my Nana, Mom’s Mom made meals worth bragging about.

So who am I? I am Samuel, known as Sam Uno, shortened to Uno. I have short brown hair, light green eyes just like Mom’s and I was always the smallest kid in my class. I look like Dad except my eyes. While I wasn’t ever considered to be a cool kid in my neighborhood, I was tolerated for my backyard treasures. For instance, sometimes Mom called me in the house before the basketball game was over; which meant everyone else had to go home, but no one ever said a word because they wanted use of my treasures. I had an appreciation for our backyard for those very reasons.

My little sister Samantha, known as Sam Dos, shortened to Dos, was three years younger than me, but she almost outweighed me because she had a much stockier build than me and she was naturally athletic. She was five at the time. Her hair was a mix of sun-born highlights and dark ringlets that framed her face and shoulders. She had my mom’s beauty and Nana’s dark skin.

Dos was my opposite in almost every way. She was close with my mom. She had lots of friends who frequented our house. Dos and her friend’s favorite game were to play on our backyard trampoline. The special thing about Dos was her laugh. It was infectious. When you heard it, everybody smiled around her, and she laughed a lot.

It would seem that I would be jealous of Dos but it is not true we ae actually very close. I always protected her from any mean kids plus Dos and I often played various childhood games together to pass the time. She looked up to me and told me I was the best big brother anyone could have. Her comments always made me feel proud and even more protective.

Besides the four of us, Dad, Mom, Dos and me, we had a dog, Sammy, a golden retriever who was brought home for me as a puppy but ended up liking Dos better. So it now her dog and she takes good care of him.

Before telling you about my life-changing adventure, I want to share a couple of my most distressing memories with you which aided me into this state of being.

This particular story started with a knock at the front door. When I opened the door, all the cool neighborhood kids were standing on my front porch. Ethan, the tallest, had a basketball tucked under his arm. Dread overtook me because of what Mom was about to say. There was no way out of this trap except to let the blame fall on her. So I yelled over my shoulder and asked, Mom, can Ethan and the others play a game of hoops?

She yelled back, No! We are leaving in just a short while.

Looking back over at them, I shrugged my shoulders and said, Sorry.

Ethan asked me where we were going. When I said we were going to the beach, he seemed to pause. I am guessing he wanted me to invite him along with us, but already knowing the answer was no, I did not say a word.

Chapter Two

A Day at the Beach

E

xcept for my discomfort at the front door, turning down the neighborhood kids from using our basketball court, this particular day we were preparing for a day at the beach this weekend in July. The overcast skies we referred to as June gloom had finally left the coast, and Dos and I hoped for a day or two at the beach during our summer break. Today, my family had decided to go to the beach for some sun and fun.

It was a Sunday, which meant the beaches would be crowded, so we got an early start. We stopped by our usual pancake house on the way, and I filled up on my favorite, chocolate chip pancakes. The date was July 21, 2013. This date is burned into my memory forever. My hands shake as I think about what happened that day. It was the moment in time where the intense fear of water entered my life and my extreme fear of my dad.

For me, there was an excitement about going to the beach this particular day because Dad had promised he would take me out in the ocean just beyond the waves. I had never been in deep ocean water; this was going to be my first time. You see, playing with my little sister on the beach shoreline swash had been fun, but I was ready for more.

When we arrived, we parked in a gigantic parking lot with lots of open parking spaces. Apparently, Dad’s plan had worked, and we beat the crowds to the beach. I opened my door and planted my bare feet on the blacktop. The blacktop was still cool, and I smiled. In just a few hours if we did not have flip-flops on we would be dancing around trying not to burn the bottoms of our feet on both the blacktop and the sand.  I lifted my chin to the sky and took a deep breath through my nose. There was a smell at the coastline that seemed to calm me. It was salty, refreshing and with a distinct smell of seaweed. The fog had just begun to burn off, and I remember noticing the cool air swirling around my hair and face. I felt at peace.

We began to unload what seemed like a weeks’ worth of camping stuff from the car.

I stopped turned around and noticed the sandy beach looked just the same to me as the last time we came here. There were long stretches of freshly groomed sand and lifeguard stations that looked like some strange crab-like structures in a row across the sand parallel to the shoreline. To the right of me was a sturdy structure that smelled of fish and french fries. The last time we were here I watched the seagulls swarm around the building waiting for an unsuspecting visitor to leave their food unattended and grab it. Then I turned towards the ocean directly in front of me and noticed the waves were much larger than I’d remembered. I could feel the low vibrations under my feet as the waves crested and then crashed down ferociously. To my left, there was a rock jetty stretching for a few hundred yards beyond the waves.

But my reminiscing was cut short because my dad demanded my attention. He reminded me we had chores to do. We needed to set up our little base camp for our beach day. So, we picked a spot put up our beach umbrella, laid out blankets and towels on the sand, and set up our beach chairs. Finally we placed our cooler full of sandwiches, several treats, and drinks in-between the chairs to act as a table of sorts.

When we completed our base camp, Mom slathered all of us with sunscreen. Finally, Dos and I headed for the shoreline and began to build a sand castle with wet sand.

It’s easy and interesting really to build  wet sand castle. The object is to grab a handful of dripping wet sand and drip it in the same place unitl it makes a tower of sorts.

The waves ensure that the water continually washes up to the shore always refurbishing the sand with water for an optimal wet sand castle building mixture.

Sometimes we would dig down and catch a sand crab. Sand crabs are interesting to watch, if you accidentally dig one up, it scurry’s around in your hand trying to dig back under the sand. When you sit this creature back down on the wet sand it only takes a few seconds to disappear back under the sand.

After a few hours Dos and I would head back up to base camp for sandwhiches and sodas. After our lunch we would warm our bodies in the sun.

Later in the day, my dad did what he promised and took me out into the ocean just beyond the wave break. Mom protested because the waves were colossal from a storm in Mexico. But Dad convinced her it would be all right because we’d be able to use the jetty to get in and out without having to go through the waves.

Dad took me out on the jetty and began to enter the water. He said, Climb on. I lay across his back with my arms around his neck. It was nerve-wracking and exhilarating all at the same time. I remember my dad kept telling me he was being choked and would tug at my arm, but I don’t think my grip around his neck ever loosened.

Dad began to move away from the jetty but remained parallel to the shore and just beyond the wave break.

Every time the water would start to swell for a new wave, I would dip my face in, raise my head, wipe off my face and lick my lips. The water tasted salty, and I would smile as if I was experiencing the land of Peter Pan. At least I felt like I was on a great adventure. Looking towards the shore, I saw Mom and Dos in the dry sand. With a smile larger than life, I waved to them, and they waved back. I believed it was to acknowledge my accomplishment of the being in deep water. I saw my dad smiling as well out of the corner of my eye. Till now, it was a perfect day.

But then my fear gripped me, I looked down and wondered what waited for me under the surf. The water was murky with sand, and I could not see the bottom. I wondered why Dad didn’t seem afraid of the monsters that could be lurking under the surface. These potential creatures could be conversing about how to eat his legs! What would he do? What would I do? My fearful nature overpowered me, and I could not escape it. So I asked my dad, Dad, what would happen to me if something happened to you?

Concern washed over my dad’s face.

Feeling I had captured his attention, I continued, I mean of course nothing would ever happen to you, but what if you got a cramp and could not swim or hold me up right now? I don’t know how to swim.

He looked at me. Oh, I understand. I will give you swimming lessons. Then he grabbed me around my rib cage and ripped me away from his neck and threw me into a wave.

Recalling those few seconds while I was flying through the air, I thought I heard Mom scream my name but at that instant I was so stricken with disbelief, I could not be sure. It was weird how I could feel both horrified and betrayed in a single moment and how it all happened in slow motion.

As I landed in the wave, I felt the water grip my body and push me to the top of the wave. The wave seemed to betray me just as my father had; it threw my body and released it. I found myself freefalling down the face of the wave. When I reached the bottom, I was smashed downwards under water. The weight of the wave was pushing me downwards while my body was being cycled around like I was