ELI

CHAPTER SEVEN
TOMORROW’S MORNINGS-Circa 1775 AD
   The moored Tuckahoe Nation that encountered the fleeing group of Calusa on the shores of southwestern Florida near the thousands of mangrove islands that spawned uncontrolled sat at a beach fireside with their benefactors and shared tales of capture, rape, pillage, and abuse that stirred the pulse of the Tuckahoe listeners as if they were duplicate memories from their heritage.
   That night, destiny and fate forged distinct and distant heritages of two natural nations by the sparkle of fire light, moon light and star light. The union formed into independent yet collaborative extensions of a common unit with respective tales that moved in a common purpose over the backwaters of time.
   One of the Calusa sitting at fireside fondled a carved adornment that dangled from a hide necklace around his neck. The embellishment resembled a wood key.
   When asked the nature of the artwork and its intent, the Calusa warrior began to move his eyes over the faces of the gathering, silently. He shuffled in his position, moving his legs into an expanded position that allowed them to act as coils that hoisted his large, very muscular dark skinned frame upward, effortlessly.
   The Tuckahoe medicine man asked, “And what is the name of the Calusa warrior who wishes to speak?”
   The Calusa warrior stiffened in his stance posture, and stared at the inquisitors, smiling as his eyes moved over their faces.
   He stood near the fire, his image hovering above the leaping flames while facing those who befriended his people, He spoke, “My name is Juan Carlos Calusa, youngest grandson of Reuben Carlos Calusa, grandson of the blind man walking from Sinai in the Swamp—Eli. Eli carved the Key and spoke of the Kingdom that lay within us. He said that you would come and that we would know you as a people who respect life, freedom, and dignity, albeit with instruments contrary to ours.”
   Juan Carlos Calusa spoke as one with an immense mind and as one knowing vast mysteries. He gave voice to words softly and calmly, amid a presence of status. He told tales of fog, mist, death, life, and destiny that had origins with the sky god. He said, “The Calusa blind man walking called Eli released the sacred key ornament (concealed within the wood) and named it the Key to the Kingdom. Eli carved the key from buttonwood, a staple hard wood of our swampland.”
   When Juan Carlos Calusa completed his comments, the leader and chief of the Tuckahoe Nation rose to his feet as well and stared at Juan Carlos Calusa with eyes that flashed respect, honor, and pride.
   Both faced one another over the fire, each nearly comparable to the other in structure, size, and height.
   A Tuckahoe medicine man presented a pipe of peace to the Tuckahoe chief. The Tuckahoe mystic medicine man tipped his head in deference to the recipient of the pipe and moved backwards in his exit.
   The Tuckahoe warrior chief lifted the pipe to his lips, pulled strongly, and puffed the pipe long to insure the smoke. Staring directly at Juan Carlos Calusa, he blew smoke three times into the winds of the night: once to the left, once to the right, and once straightforward. Then, after pausing slightly, he spoke with authority words of confirmation, “I am Paw, son of Panther, chief of the Tuckahoe, and I say, let it be so.”
   Lightening flashed and thunder roared in the clear night sky.
   Juan Carlos Calusa smiled.
   Heir apparent, Juan Carlos Calusa, in the heat of the moment extended his arms toward the flash and the roar in the sky as he tilted his head upward. He replied affirmatively in classic Algonquin, “All we ask is to die in the battle of faith, like men of intelligence! Let it be so,”
   Juan Carlos Calusa sighed, and added an accompaniment—a Spanish confirmation, “Ame’n!”