Historical Holograms From A Runaway Punk

I’m not sure what to say about this one because our entire world at the range just changed suddenly; my hair is now black. No one knows how our location was found by a family of three: mother, father, and their little boy. But as soon as they arrived, they said Henchmen were chasing them. I saw Zora shudder as if a chill went through her spine. She immediately got everyone on their guard, transforming into a strict leader who ensured everyone followed her orders.

Zora was highly protective over Zi-Yen and me. She wanted us to paint black tiger stripes all over our bodies and faces with clay. “I’m teaching you the art of camouflage so you can hide more easily in the forest. Your purple hair stands out too much, King,” she said.

“We Shambhala Warriors!” Zi-Yen got excited.

“What’s a Shambhala Warrior?” I asked Zora.

“Zi-Yen added a little spin after Nami taught him about his ancestors, that they were from Shambhala.”

“Where is it?” I asked.

“Well, it was long believed to be in the mountains of Tibet, in another land across the great big sea. But nobody ever actually found Shambhala in Tibet. So, the people began to believe that it was just some magical kingdom residing in folklore’s imagination.

It seems that the first migrants who moved into Tibet remembered the square and circular blueprint of how the Shambhala pyramids were built, passing on to their descendants the art. But they forgot where it was built, in a place we know as old Mexico.

When a new tribe of people found the Shambhala pyramids in Mexico abandoned, they gave them a new name because they didn’t know it was once called Shambhala.

“Maybe they didn’t want to remember?”

“It’s important to remember, King.”

“Why?”

“Because it anchors us in truth, in history. If we forget, then we get lost. When we are lost, we wander in a state of confusion. Then that confusion leads us into chaos because we don’t have an anchor of truth.”

Zi-Yen blurted out, “It Teo-te-kan!”

“That’s right, Zi. Shambhala was renamed Teotihuacan by the new tribe of people. Not sure if the Shambhala pyramids still exist considering all the cartel wars down there.”

“Why doesn’t Mayor Sye want us to know how to read or write, to learn about our history? How did he get to be the mayor anyways?” I asked.

Zora didn’t know what to say; she just looked at me for a moment, then said, “I first met him before he became the mayor; he wasn’t always bad.”

“What happened to him?”

“Well, he was like everyone else, trying to rebuild our city because he cared. But, let’s not worry about that because we need to prepare and be on our guard. You see, King, the mother teaches her young how to survive out in the wild.”

Everyone in the village was stationed at their designated spots to watch out for Henchmen; nobody dared make any noise or move any muscle. I noticed a strange unusual scent in the air, which was not an everyday range scent. I held my position, feeling the air for sound vibrations, and stayed motionless when a giant brown and white male deer swiftly moved past me. He sure was a holy hugeness with antlers as wide as my bed!

A twig snapped in the distance, and I thought it may have been Zi-Yen. A scraggly old man and two scrappy young boys the same size as me were creeping slowly from behind the trees in the far-off distance. One of the boys had a missing forearm.

I didn’t see Zora creeping up behind me. She tapped me on the back and motioned with her hands for me to stay still and keep quiet. I saw her move like a careful cat ready to jump on its prey. She crept closer to the scraggly man and moved like lightning behind him, slitting his throat with a very silver large knife.

I jumped out at the two scrappy boys and yelled, “Leave here and never come back!”

The older man was hunched over in pain from his neck wound, thick red blood oozing and dripping all over him. He tried calling after the boys for help, but they couldn’t hear him; they were running away.

Zi-Yen burst through the trees and started beating the man’s back in a furious explosion, not realizing that the man was bleeding to death. He backed away when he saw the blood gushing from the dying man’s throat. We all stood there for a moment, trapped by the sight of blood.

“No fear, King, I like that,” Zora said with cold, haunting eyes.

Later that night, there was a private meeting between Zora, Nami, and all the elders of the Range. It was decided that the village should move down south. I asked Nami why we had to move, and she said, “Because the Godfather knows where we are now.”

“The Godfather? Who’s that?” I asked her.

“He used to be a god-fearing preacher who used to live in Tech City, right before Duffer Sye rose into power. But Duffer saw him as a threat, more like competition, and started playing tricks on the Godfather, demanding evidence and proof of Jesus Christ. He shamed the Godfather for having no evidence. The Godfather left Tech City on his own, isn’t right in the head no more.”

Zora sent a couple of scouts after the young boys to see where they would run off to while everyone in the village was bustling about and packing things up since there was “no time to waste,” according to Zora. I asked her where we were going, and she said to a place way down south called old St. Marks’s Lighthouse, down by the ocean.

So, this is my last holo-rec at the Archery Range. Who knows what’s going to happen on the way? We might even be killed or captured by Henchmen! Wish us luck!