Sacred Story of Two Dueños

Days passed after meeting Francisco Sojuel, and Martina had no new dreams. She had been careful not to fall asleep anywhere near the book because it made her nervous. She felt almost positive that her strange dreams came from the book somehow.

During the day, she continued reading the stories. Some made her laugh, like “Simple Simon” where a man tries to recreate Lake Atitlán in the dirt by his house. Others fascinated her, like “Story of an Enchanted Place, Paruchi Abaj.” In that story, a dueño of an enchanted hill grants hunters good or bad luck hunting, depending on how well they perform certain rituals.

Today was Sunday, and Martina’s family attended Mass at Iglesia Católica de San Juan La Laguna, a white stone church in the center of town. She planned to go to the lake after the service and read for a relaxing afternoon, so she packed the book in her bag and brought it to church.

This week, they had a traveling priest who was 90 years old and moved at a snail’s pace. When he started reading the gospel in a soft, trailing monotone, Martina couldn’t help herself—she fell asleep in the pew.

Immersed in a new dream, she smelled dirt and vegetation instead of the musty church. She looked around and saw dense rainforest in all directions. Despite the shade, the air felt scorching. Martina groaned, hoping this dream would go better than the others. She had no idea where she was, and everyone knew jaguars and coyotes roamed forests like these.

She heard laughter in the distance. The voice got closer, and another voice joined in. Martina squinted and saw two boys a little younger than her. They carried bags, which they filled with wild herbs. One of them spotted her.

“Buenos días!” he said. “How are you?”

“I’m lost," Martina said. "I’m trying to get back to my family in La Laguna.”

“We’re just collecting herbs for our mamá, but we’re headed back there soon," the other one said. "We can take you back!”

Martina breathed a sigh of relief. The two boys were friendly and not intimidating. “Thank you so much,” she said. “Why are you collecting herbs?”

“Our mamá is poor, so we eat herbs instead of tortillas or corn. Ever since our father died, we’ve helped our mother like this.”

Martina felt sorry for them, so she helped search for herbs. Eventually, they had enough to return. They entered the village, and Martina noticed something off. The people looked sick and miserable, and no one smiled.

“What happened here? ” Martina said.

The boys exchanged a glance. “What do you mean? You don't know?”

“I've been gone a long time."

“Well, there’s a lot to catch you up on. Months ago, the clouds disappeared.” Martina looked up and was shocked to see they were right—not a single cloud blocked the sunlight.

“Which means,” the other boy finished, “the rain also disappeared. The people suffer because they can’t grow crops or feed livestock. Some have resorted to eating their dead animals.”

“To make matters worse,” the older one continued, “the night also disappeared. It's only daytime, so nothing relieves the people from the terrible heat.”

“That’s awful!” Martina said. “Why did the clouds and darkness disappear?”

“God is punishing the town for their sins.”

They reached the boys’ house, and their mother smiled at Martina. "Would you like to stay for dinner?" she asked.

Martina agreed, stunned at the kindness and generosity of the whole family. “How are you all so nice and happy?" she asked. "Even during this hard time?”

“We have always been poor," the mother said. “So this is just usual life.”

Suddenly, a voice boomed, "Put the little rocks in a pot on the stove, and open the jar in the kitchen.” Martina looked around for the source of the voice while the two boys followed the instructions.

Martina was amazed—the jar was filled to the brim with water, and it never emptied no matter how much they poured. Soon, they smelled chicken and corn. On the stove, the stones had transformed into tamales.

The dream dissolved around Martina and she stood back in the forest, the boys gathering herbs in front of her.

“So many people come to our house now for tamales and water, since word got around,” one boy said. "I hope the rain comes back soon."

Martina tried to piece together this information. Apparently, days had passed in what felt like seconds. The same booming voice they’d heard before interrupted her reflection.

“Walk farther into the forest, where you will find a ravine,” it said. “You will find the clouds and the darkness. Put them in your bags and take them back to the town.”

They did as the voice asked, but had to walk for an hour before they reached the ravine. They found the clouds and the darkness, pooled at the bottom of the ravine like water. They gathered them into their herb bags and hurried back to town. The whole village assembled when they heard the news. With everyone watching, the boys opened the bags and the night and clouds returned to the sky. The people shouted with joy as they danced and sang in the cool rain.

Martina danced with them too, but suddenly she felt a sharp pain in her right leg. It was her sister said pinching her in the church pew. “Wake up,” she whispered through clenched teeth. “We’re about to get communion.”

Martina felt disoriented, her sense of time completely out of whack for the rest of the service. Luckily, her parents never realized she had taken a nap.

After church, Martina followed through with her plan to read at the lake. She opened the book to a new story called “Sacred Story of Two Duenos,” and there, on the title page, was an exact drawing of the two boys from her dream. The caption read “dueño of the night next to his younger brother, dueño of the rain.”