Splendid Dead

Gash Import photographed by Shaun Murawski

Read Part 1: HERE

Later that night after much jubilation at the return of the village’s lost son, Dos Caras lays on the floor of the crude hut he was born in. His mother sits cross legged beside him, cradling his head. In the dim light she can see his body covered in scars. “Tell me son, what has happened to you? Who has done these awful things?”

“On that night 12 years ago I was stolen from you. The bandits rode all day and night with me in a saddle bag. We crossed the desert, the mountains and finally arrived at the ocean.” Outside, fireworks exploded in the sky and the sound punctuated his terrible story.

“One of the bandits wives took me and raised me as her own.” At this his mother bursts into tears.

“When I was five years old the bandits took me with them on another raid, this time into the big city. They wreaked havoc wherever they rode, until they reached a mansion on a hill. They knew the owner must be rich. They waited for night to fall and broke in.”

The celebrations had finished and now the night was deadly still. The mother could hear her sons every breathe under his mask.

“What the bandits found inside shocked them. The house belonged to the famous luchador, Dos Caras. His trophies adorned the walls, gold trophies. They set about looting. As sunrise approached the bandits doubled their efforts and in the rush they woke Dos Caras from his bed. He found them and was merciful in his beating, leaving all alive, barely. They fled, leaving me behind.”

Meanwhile on the edge of the desert, vultures circled overhead, around the full moon, as a vile beast feasted on a herd of goats. In the shadows, what could neither be described as man or animal, stalked quietly passed the beast and headed across the desert.

“Dos Caras took me and trained me as a luchador. He taught me everything he knew. He was like the father I never had. He raised me, but I knew I had to find my true family, my real home.”

“You are home now son.” She cupped his still masked face in her hand. “Let me see your face, let me look at my son.” She moved her hands to untie the laces but he stopped her.

“No mother, this is my face now. Dos Caras taught me the way of the mask, the honour.”

“But you are Dos Caras.”

“And I will be until the day I die, like the Dos Caras before me.”

His mother could not bear to think of her newly returned son’s death.

“Why must you? Why?”

“It is the way. Dos Caras died defending me and I will live to honour his name and mask.”

“How did he die?”

“One night six months ago, we were training when we heard a noise. Someone was in the house. We thought it was the bandits seeking revenge. We were mistaken. It was El Hombre Lobo!”

His mother gasped. Everyone knew the legend of El Hombre Lobo, half man, half wolf, no heart. It was said that he was born in a wolves den at the foot of a volcano. His mother seeing what her child was, fled to the top of the volcano and threw herself in, cursing Satan as she fell. He was nursed by the animals of the surrounding forest and when he was old enough, ventured into the cruel world that rejected him to seek revenge.

“His vengeance that night was directed towards Dos Caras. We tried our best to fight him, but he was too strong for us and I was knocked unconscious in the brawl. When I awoke Dos Caras was lying in his own blood, breathing his last breaths slowly. He unlaced his mask and took it from his head. This is your face now, he said. This is the face that El Hombre Lobo will see before he dies.”

Outside a howl scattered bats from a near by cave and sent chills through the village.

“The wolf! He has found us!”

By Jonathan Snee

Gash Import – Luchador Noise BLAST DUO with A PAST Shrouded In MYSTERY!!! have remixed Messrs’ I’m On Fire. Download it for free:

Messy Gash Daddy Fire (mp3)

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