Xibalba and La Muerte Short Stories

The Beginning of It All

(Here it is, an update, hope you guys enjoy it!)

Long ago, many, many centuries ago a god and a goddess were married. It was a wondrous celebration, the two of them deeply in love. Their names were none other than La Muerte and Xibalba and the deities ruled a single land together simply known as the land of the dead. Back then Xibalba was a god who believed and trusted the mortal men, caring about them just as much as his wife. Back then he too was made of sweet things, white sugar skin, wings a soft grey like a dove and a soft smile that always made his dear sugar skull blush. And they would very often dress as mortals to interact with the men and women and children, the future souls that would one day come to their land for eternal fiesta. Things were wonderful for a while, until of course, one day La Muerte decided to sneak down and play a mortal woman while her husband ruled the land, the two of them taking turns to watch over the land of the dead. She would play with the children and talk to the women but unlike all her other visits, she accidentally bumped into a mortal man, gazing deeply into his deep green eyes. 

They talked, shyly at first before they grew more comfortable, learning more and more about each other. It would appear the goddess had found a friend. Or so it seemed. The next day she could not resist herself, going down back to the same village she had met the mortal man and talking to him again. This went on for weeks, her constant meetings with the man, growing closer and closer to him every day. And her husband watched this with increasing worry and nervousness. What should he do? What should he say? Should he watch or intervene? Constantly bothered by those questions he began neglecting the land of the remembered, focused only on his sweet mi amor. And upon the fourth week, the last day of the month, the mortal man kissed her. And to Xibalba's utter despair, she did not shy away from him, instead she held him close, embracing the man tightly, the same way she had time after time with him. 

The goddess had fallen in love with a mortal man. Weeping bitterly his despair turned to anger. What had he done to deserve this? Had he been a poor husband or not treated her fairly? Had she not been happy with him? His heart throbbed with fierce heartbreak and sorrow; had he lost his mi amor for good? And that anger turned to hatred. Hatred towards the man who had stolen away his dear wife. They were not so pure of heart; they had stolen away the one thing that meant the most to him, La Muerte. He locked himself away in his chambers, watching her through the eyes of a snake, the only animal that would do his bidding. 

And she continued to meet the mortal, every day greeting him and kissing his cheek and letting him hug her tightly. And all the while, Xibalba's heated hate grew larger and larger, transforming him from the god he had once been. His skin turned from sugar to tar, candles going from a soft gold to a envious green, eyes that had once been as gentle and gold as his wife's morphing into something red and bitter. His moods soured and day after day when she would meet the man, he would watch through the eyes of the slithering serpent. Eventually he grew so angry and hateful that he finally lashed out, sending the serpent to kill the mortal man. The snake bit the man, poisoning his blood with Xibalba's hatred and disgust. The man did not die but when he awoke in La Muerte's arms, he did not love her. He called her horrible names, insulted her appearance, her thoughts, her ideas. And swiftly La Muerte came running back to the land of the dead, tears streaming down her face as heartbreak tore her apart from the inside out. 

She cried out for her husband, searching the palace for him, only to find a figure that looked slightly like her husband in his chambers, hunched over, hands clasped. When he came into the light she gasped, this was not the Xibalba she had left here; this was an utterly different god. His wings were not soft like a doves and a gentle grey but instead a gloomy black, scarred and torn. Xibalba was no longer sugar but instead tar, his anger very apparent upon his frame. But looking at that face, she noticed his eyes had changed the most, no longer a lovely gold but now a blood red. And when she ran to his embrace, he told her he had known. He had known she had kissed another man, a mortal man in fact, and that it had broken his heart. So, in vengeance, to show her how his heart had suffered, he had attacked the man, freeing her from his spell. The god had believed she would thank him, for he held no anger towards her, he only blamed the man. It had been the mortal's fault and he still deeply loved his wife. But, she was in fact horrified; her husband had never been vengeful or mistrustful of mortals before. Had he really changed so much? 

Looking down at the mortal man she had once loved she found him so vile and unappealing that his friends had left him, family given up hope of him ever being the same. So when he died, he was completely alone. In retaliation she divorced Xibalba, dividing the land in half. The parts that had begun to die and grow snowy and sad while Xibalba had been absorbed in his jealousy were left for the god and earned the name the land of the forgotten, and the first soul to go there was La Muerte's lover. La Muerte blamed herself deeply and swore off the love of mortal men, believing it too dangerous for them and herself. So, she rarely visited the land of the living and to try and bury the memories of the past, she renamed her land, land of the remembered. 

Xibalba lived in the miserable land, his outlook on mortals forever tainted. Never again would he trust them, never again could he call the mortal man 'friend'. His staff was the snake that had served him so well, and swore alliance to him for eternity, forever at his side. And now this is how the lands remain, separate and apart, their rulers now different from each other, but still holding a shred of love in their hearts for the other, the one they had married all those centuries ago. And deep down, they foster that love until it once more blossoms into something beautifully bright like a thousand candles in a midnight sky.

And that my friends, is the beginning of it all.