by Heidi King
“Novus Ordo Seclorum,” Estrella and Usnavy chanted. Estrella dutifully picked up a machete and handed it to María. María rested the blade on Matt’s shoulder and spoke above the heads of the captives around her, as though she were addressing masses from the center of an immense coliseum.
“I hereby invoke upon this candidate the powers of death,” she yelled. “Endow him with such fortitude that at the hour of trial he falls not.”
Then she leaned in close to Matt and whispered, “I’m going to put your penis in my mouth. It’s not hard now, but it will be. Your instinct will kick in. Don’t worry. We can heal that wound one more time.”
She got down onto her knees and lapped at his penis with the tip of her tongue. She looked into Matt’s eyes as they stretched in horror. His penis became erect in spite of all of his efforts to control it. His face grew flushed with rage. He bit hard into the bandanna tied around his mouth. He wanted one kick. Just to feel the sensation of his foot slamming into her face.
Suddenly Dr. Mike began twisting and writhing in a savage spasm of anger and fear, like a caterpillar caught on the edge of a toying child’s shoe. He managed to free his mouth to shout, “You fucking psychopathic whore! This is all a fucking lie, María, can’t you see? Matt was right. All of them lies.”
“The Bible is a lie,” Maria retorted calmly. “But from great fiction comes great faith, and through great faith, truth. Only you, the male myth makers of the world, the Church, the Freemasons, fail to see truth through all the pollution you ejaculate into the world.”
“Usnavy!” Dr. Mike pleaded. “Help me, please.”
Usnavy walked up to Dr. Mike. “I know now,” she said. “I know how you moved us. You control. I know you make the sex dreams with you. I’m not a whore. I know more than you now -- the love I have is not controlled by you. Now I am the boss.”
“You’re quoting fucking María, Usnavy,” Dr. Mike shouted back. “She told you to say that. Look at yourself, painted up like some child at a birthday party. She’s desperately trying to escape who she is, her past. Usnavy, María was my patient, a prostitute racked with guilt and depression, traumatized by -”
Usnavy kneed him swiftly in the testicles, causing his rant to end in a gurgling shriek. “You’re no fucking different!” she screamed. “No different from other gringos. No different from my father! Run away and throw me like trash!” She burst into tears and collapsed on the ground. “I’m thinking I was happy,” she sobbed. “So happy. It was you... I saw it in my dreams.”
María walked over to Estrella, who had lied down on the grass, staring at the sky with her eyes glassed over. She lifted her hand to her face to study her lucid dream symbol. María squatted down at her side, resting a hand on her shoulder. “It will all be over soon. They will soon wake up. Why don’t you sleep? Everything will be fine.”
Estrella lifted her arms and Maria held her. “I am asleep,” she said, “I love you so much. I want this over,” she cried. “I want you, I want us.”
María untied the two by four pinning Matt to the tree. His knees buckled under his weight and he fell to the ground. Usnavy and Estrella stretched him out on the moist, dark soil.
“I can conceive you,” María said, towering over him. “I wouldn’t do this if I thought you couldn’t return. Follow your symbol, and you will be reborn in me. Death is like the sleep we have learned to control in our dreams. Shekinah is your sprig of acacia. Your soul will acquire coats of skin, in my womb, the Holy Grail. I’ll be a good mother. I’ll teach you to remember. This is the secret of the Grail -- the secret of eternal life.”
She stared down at him, a boot on either side of his stomach. Her face was a blur through tears and smoke. The black and white ankh was now a mess of drying caked paint, peeling away to show her skin. Her face, with her mouth a portrait of twisted evil and her eyes like pearls of confused compassion, was suddenly beautiful again,
“Hiram was -- like you will be -- murdered. Sacrificed in the temple. Your ritual at the Blue Rock was your training for rebirth -- the ritual that Dr. Mike stole from the Freemasons.”
María rested on top of him now, straddling him, leaning back to flex her abs. She ran circles with her index finger in the bright paint around her tattoo. Then she took his erection to make small circles around the opening of her vagina and lowered herself onto him, letting her well trained muscles do the work. He lay there, unable to speak.
Leaning forward, she purred quietly into his ear. “I like to look into guys’ eyes when they cum. I can always tell by the strange contortions in their face and the slight flushing of the skin when they’re about to cum. You can see the pupils dilate. If a guy’s penis was severed just at the moment of orgasm, would cum still spurt from the hole where his cock was attached?” Then she stopped “You feel like you’re gonna cum don’t you?” she taunted. “This is the moment, Mat. Isn’t it strange to know that when you cum, you’re going to enter my womb and pass through this life? Still your cock is hard. Tough, no? ”
She grinded her clitoris hard into his pelvic bone and reveled in the ultimate rush of sexual control. She squealed when she saw the fear in Matt’s eyes -- his fear of climaxing-- mesmerized by the complete power she held over him. She felt his hatred and desire. She was sliding in excitement, close to orgasm herself.
She brought them both near a rushing climax. His hips rose up to meet hers. The pain and pleasure dissolved into a numbing need for rapture. María’s eyes rolled back -- she was lost in trance. Matt’s body suddenly went rigid... And it was done. Maria opened her eyes. She could feel his warm semen spill into her.
María raised herself slightly, keeping about three quarters of Matt’s penis inside her. She took the blade of the machete and slowly dragged it across the shaft of his penis. Muffled screams came from beneath the bandanna. He struggled in vain to lift his head and pull loose his hands. Despite having honed the blade sharp enough to shave with, María had difficulty cutting the penis off in one go and had to slide it back and forth several times.
Matt sank back into the caverns of his mind. His life was not nostalgically passing by. He wasn’t in a warm place.
María’s nose was inches from his gaping, flowing wound. “No,” she said quietly to herself. “It doesn’t still come out.” But blood did, splattering her cheek and forehead. It ran down Matt’s thighs and onto the grass. Bright red lined the inside of Maria’s thighs. She rubbed some of the blood up her abdomen, mixing it with the bright body paint up to her navel and around her tattooed sphere.
Matt remembered the pain he felt in his groin at the pilgrimage of the Black Christ and in his dreams. They were prophecies. He didn’t know at the time, but his unconscious knew. It told him about this moment – it warned him.
María rolled off Matt and stood up. His penis stuck inside her for brief moment and then slid out like a large, dead worm – the broken obelisk -- and hit the ground silently.
“The killer awoke before dawn,” she said with a deep penetrating voice. “He put his boots on. He took a face from the ancient gallery and walked on down the hall. He went into the room where his brother lived and he...”
She stopped in front of Dr. Mike. The blood stained blade gleamed darkly and menacingly in the firelight. His frantic, darting eyes followed the shimmering streak as María drove the blade deep into his abdomen in one strong, brutal thrust. She swiftly pushed the blade up into his chest cavity and it became stuck. There was an audible crack as she snapped the blade from his chest. Dr. Mike’s eyes remained open. But they stopped darting and fixed on nothing now but darkness. María untied his arms and he fell over. His intestines spilled out onto the dirt and weeds.
Estrella walked over to Steve and rested her hand on his chest. She fell to her knees, resting her head against his feet kissing them. She looked at the palm of her hand for her dream symbol. Nothing was there. She began crying.
“He’s not dying,” Maria said softly to Estrella. “You know that don’t you? He’s af
raid, but he’s never been more alive. Consciousness cleaves to form. He thinks he is leaving this, and he is afraid.”
Matt wished he could speak to Steve; tell him that it was okay, and that he was his best friend and that they would get out of this.
María stood directly between Matt and Steve’s motionless body. “The body was concealed in a grave marked with a sprig of acacia -- a shrubbery,” she yelled with a fake English accent. She spun around and took huge steps toward Matt. “Then he walked on down the hall,” she yelled. “And he came to a door and he looked inside. Father?” she glared. “Yes son? I want to kill you.”
The white of Matt’s eyes glowed in the dying red sun. He breathed furiously through his nose. Maria swung the blade through the specters inhabiting the rising smoke. The fire had died. She suddenly stopped behind Matt. The blade rested against her long painted legs. She slowly lifted her chin.
“Father... I want to... fuuuuuck you!” she screamed.
She swung the blade in front of Matt’s face, cutting his chin and nicking his neck. She danced in a frenzy, a mad shaman in a frantic dance of death. She jumped into the air, digging her boots into the grass and earth when she landed. Abruptly she fell onto her knees before Matt and dropped the machete. She put her hands over her eyes, smiling to herself. She bit her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. She swallowed. Her painted breasts heaved up and down.
Small bursts of blood shot out of Matt’s neck. The blade had nicked his jugular. He bit down hard on the saliva soaked bandanna covering his mouth. The blood hit María’s face and she began laughing loudly. Then the blood poured out in a steady stream down the center of his collarbone and onto his chest.
María held her hand over Matt’s spurting wound, stalling death as if she was holding her finger over a tear in a leaking life raft.
She whispered to Matt. “You will be conceived in me. You will be your own father. Father and son. Just as Osiris was conceived in Isis. I’ll be the widow. Just like Jesus at the Last Supper with Mary Magdalene. You have great company. Mr. MoJo Risen. Kill the father, fuck the mother, and be born again in the Holy Goddess. Enjoy your Oedipus complex. After all, I’m gonna be your momma soon.”
Matt’s eyelids began to flicker.
“Once you asked if I ever cry,” she said. Her hand was still on Matt’s neck -- his blood was seeping through her fingers. “I cry through Shekinah. She cries for me. She is my double. I love her. My only friend dropped down the stairs.” Maria put her lips to Matt’s ear and whispered. “My dad used to fuck me. My real dad. Fucked me without a condom. Fucked me hard and smiled with these ugly yellow teeth. Fucked me with nothing but an ugly gray fedora that smelled like cigars. Fucked me and told me that if I had the baby, my twin Shekinah would be reborn in me and Mom would be happy again.”
Matt thought about what he had seen at Dr. Mike’s house. Whatever happened there had awoken the powerful and terrifying nightmares buried in her unconscious. Even now, Matt felt bad for her. He accepted death peacefully. But María, unable to confront life and unable to confront death, was striving for immortality. Reliving those nightmares tied to a bed was what allowed her to kill. She was killing to achieve immortality.
She took her bloodied hand from his neck. A pulsating stream of blood resumed its flow. She lay on top of him. The blood from Matt’s neck covered Maria’s thrusting, sliding body. Her voice rose again.
“My dad fucked me,” she screamed, “and I’d see the orgasm in his eyes. Fucked me and I’d see his pupils dilate. I’d know the exact second when it would all be over... And then we got on our hands and knees and prayed. Prayed to God that I would be pregnant and Shekinah would come back to us.”
María stopped. She sat up, straddling Matt, covered in his blood.
“You want to speak, don’t you?” she whispered. “You want last words. What would your last words be while your soul slowly leaves your body and enters mine?”
Matt slowly lifted his head. María untied his gag. He coughed a few times, trying to suck in air. He stared deep into pools of black.
“Baphomet doesn’t work,” Matt gurgled as blood spilled out.
“What?”
“Your anagram doesn’t work,” he tried to whisper. “Matt is spelled with two T’s.” His chest rose once more and then went still.
María turned to Estrella and Usnavy. “I have drunk from the cup. We will find salvation and save Shekinah. And he’s here too. I can feel him. This way to the ancient gallery, Matt. We did good.”
Return to The Lost and Found
By Patrick McGreer
According to the official recorded doctrine of the Church of Christ Templar, the secret Grail rituals were first recorded with the Osiris and Isis archetypes. The Isis cult then migrated and preserved their secrets at the Temple of Solomon in Jerusalem. The Romans feared the power of the cult and persecuted its members, a persecution the culminated with King Herod’s execution of the babies of Nazareth and the beheading of John the Baptist. Forced underground, the Egyptian priest, later known as Jesus the Christ, divulged the secret rituals at the Last Supper to his disciples and directed them to be passed down secretly through each generation.
After Jesus’ death, the Romans once more recoiled in fear before the new faith, which spread like wildfire all the way to Rome. So they crucified its priests, destroyed the second temple, dispersed the twelve tribes of Israel and gained doctrinal control over Christianity. The true ritual of resurrection was again lost. Through the idol, Baphomet, the rites were rediscovered in catacombs beneath the ruined temple by the Knights Templar, who were in their turn eliminated by the Roman Church. The last grand master of the Templar, DeMolay, was burned at the stake in 1307. The Templar attempted to preserve their rituals in the secret society called the Freemasons, but the rituals were again lost in a misogynistic patriarchy. The modern history of Christ Templar, they claim, began in 2008 when Mat B. Hope, through divine intervention, recovered the lost Grail rituals.
Estrella González and Usnavy Márquez became the key chroniclers of this recent history of the modern Templar and their savior, Mat B. Hope. She finished the Templar Gospels in 2008.
Mathew B. Hope, Steven Banks and Dr. Mike Anderson are lost and remain on Interpol’s missing persons list. The whereabouts of María Concepción are unknown, but a series of clues in the form a treasure hunt game have been left behind that may lead to whereabouts of the missing persons. Their disappearances are regarded as highly suspicious. The church claims that they ascended into heaven. The file remains open to this day.
María Concepción gave birth to fraternal twins, one male and one female. She named her son Mat and her daughter Shekinah. The church has officially applied to the Panamanian government as a nonprofit religious group and claims dozens of new members each month.
This is Not The End !!!
The plot only thickens and the story continues but we need you. Imagine hunting for clues down cobblestone streets, chasing down leads – in Panama! An app developed by the editor and authors puts you directly hot on the trail of Maria. Visit backpackingandhackingpanama.com and check out the apps video for a live action experience that takes this story to whole new level… if you thought this story was interesting, the experience will blow your mind.
About the Author
Patrick McGreer is the co-founder and owner of The Lost and Found Eco Resort in the Republic of Panama. This backpacker hostel is home to one third of the hunt for the remains of the victims in story you have just read. As well the eco hostel has coffee tours, jungle treks and horseback riding adventures designed to benefit the local community. Learn more at thelostandfoundhostel.com You can email Patrick at [email protected] This book is available as an ebook for free at Smashwords.com Just search the author.
Visit The Lost and Found
See the legendary hostel for yourself. See the impact, the artwork, the aura, Maria imprinted on the Lost and Found for yourself. Take her steps to Tuna’s cave, part of a popular
treasure hunt based on Maria’s cryptic clues and experiences. Visit lostandfoundhostel.com for more.
