Xibalba and La Muerte Short Stories

Don't Wake the Goddess, Seriously, Don't

Xibalba walked back into the beautiful land of the remembered, grumbling about how he lived so far and that now with them married they really should share one living space between the lands, making it easier for them to travel to each other's lands. Yesterday on the day of the dead, he'd spent all night with his spirited and lovely wife, La Muerte, ruler of the land of the remembered. But since he was the ruler of the forgotten he had to go back to the land of the forgotten, really the bane of his existence. But once he'd gotten back he'd remembered that he'd left his crown back in her room. So with a groan he'd flown back to her lands and here he was now. As he stomped to her room, past the dozens of rooms that lined her magnificent palace he paused outside her door. It was made of crimson wood, lined with paintings of marigolds that seemed to shimmer. The door handle was shaped like the flower as well, an obsession she'd had for many centuries, at least it was an item that represented her well, lovely and bright. That's when he noticed a note on the door. Pulling it off he began to read it.

   "To whom it may concern, please do not come in or knock. I am resting and until I am done I would not like to be disturbed. Please come back in an hour or two. Thank you, La Muerte," Usually, Xibalba would respect her wishes and wait for her but to be honest he was an impatient god and didn't like to wait. But then he thought it over, she was sleeping, and if she woke up cranky, well, he'd certainly pay big time. Not only disrespecting her wished but invading her personal chambers. And he knew she would inflict quite a good amount of bodily harm if he got caught. However, this was his crown, without it he felt ridiculous, she would understand, right? Deep down though, he knew most women weren't very understanding or sympathetic when awoken from their sleep. Especially not fiery La Muerte. Giving a sigh he debated it over. He could be quiet and just grab it; she probably set it to the side anyway. But if he tripped or knocked something over she'd get up and be on him like a wildcat. And he knew she'd only regret her angry actions afterwards, by then he would be a pile of ashes and flaming tar. Finally he took a deep breath and decided on the best plan.

                   He was going to go in and take back his crown.

   Opening the door with his magic he made sure there was no squeak that would set him off. When the door swung open he took a glance about, ruby skull eyes darting around nervously. Walking in with quiet steps he froze when he saw his sweet wife curled on her bed, hat to the side while her raven hair lay in a mess around her face. Smiling gently he blew her a faint kiss before remembering why he was here. On the hunt for his crown his eyes that were used to low light began to search for his crown. Walking to her vanity he began to search there first, finding a brush and a bundle of bottles from various ages. But as he moved bottles to the side one he hadn't been watching, one with a green stopper, toppled over the side, causing him to make a sound of surprise and reach hastily to catch it, knowing if it shattered the smell or the sound would stir his wife. Thankfully he managed to grasp it an inch before it touched the floor. Lifting it slowly he kept an eye on his wife who lay there, still as ever. Setting down the bottle he began to search her beau, making sure not to reach inside the drawers less he find something he really shouldn't have. The beau was a dark cherry wood and over the top of it he found nothing. Great, where was it?  Then he made his way to the wardrobe, not before tripping over a cushion that had fallen on the floor. Hastily he tried to support himself from crashing to the floor, reaching out to plant both hands on the floor instead of his entire body. Giving a sigh of relief when no sound was made he shakily stood up, dusting himself off and giving the cushion a dirty look. He moved to her the wardrobe, opening it quietly he peered at all the dresses, looking for anything that resembled his crown. Suddenly he heard a sound behind him and he froze, turning very, very slowly and making sure not to make any sudden movements. But he merely found her shifting in her sleep, smiling gently as a lock of her hair fell over her eyes. Waiting five long seconds he went back to searching for the crown, now a bit desperate. Parting the dresses he rifled through the garments as well as the chemises she would wear to bed before deciding the crown wasn't in there. That's when he noticed something he hadn't seen before, La Muerte was holding something close to her chest. At first he'd thought it was an oddly shaped pillow but as he looked closer he found it had horns, and glinted faintly. It was his crown. Looking to the sky he silently cried out at how it would be almost impossible to get it back right now. But then he hardened his emotions, he was going to get his crown back, right now. Kneeling beside her sleeping figure he very gingerly picked up one hand by the bracelet of flowers on her wrist as to not let his gloves touch skin. When he'd lifted her arm away from the crown he set it gently on her side and waiting for a few moments to make sure she wasn't waking up. Then he made a move to take the other hand and move it but this one was trickier, her arm had the crown in the crook of it and her hand went against her chest. Trying to calm himself down he reached very, very, very slowly for her arm, like a doctor performing a precise surgery. But as he tried to lift the wrist up she made a soft sound of protest in her sleep, gripping the crown like a child and her blanket. Even with all the tension he couldn't help but smile softly, she had slept with his crown, something he probably would have done if she'd left her hat with him, as well as try it on. Using a little more force he began to lift her arm with one hand while the other waited for there to be a wide enough gap to grasp the crown and pull it away. Inch by inch he lifted her arm, other hand itching to pull away the crown. At last, he could pull away the crown and did so quickly before holding it up, giving a sound of triumph. Which was loud and boisterous. The second the sound left his mouth he covered it, glancing down to look at his wife, a cold sweat forming over his body as she stirred. He held himself completely still, not moving a feather. La Muerte yawned and sleepily reached for a pillow, gripping that close and falling back to sleep, red nightgown shifting as she moved. He sighed in relief once she'd gone back to sleep and kissed his crown before beginning to creep to the door... when he tripped over the same cushion. But because he was holding the crown he couldn't support himself this time. This time the crown went flying as he crashed to the floor, the crown banging against the wardrobe and beau as well as knocking over some of the bottles on the vanity. The crown then crashed against his armor, making a loud, ringing sound. That certainly woke La Muerte. She shot up, looking around before her eyes widened at the damage around. Her room had basically been messed up in one clumsy move. Then, her eyes focused on the cause of all the damage, her husband Xibalba. He gave a smile.

    "Ah, hello mi amor, how was your nap? Heh, heh," She stood up and glared murder at him.

    "Not only did you disregard my note but you trashed my room?! Xibalba I don't care if you're the lord of the forgotten, I am going to pummel you until you reach your kingdom!!!" She snarled. Xibalba gave a yelp before darting upright and beginning to run, with his wife hot on his heels. If anybody had been in the palace at the time, they would have found a scared Xibalba with a crown in his hands being chased by a nightgown clad La Muerte who was yelling after him. But all her subjects knew very well not to disturb a goddess, especially when it was La Muerte.

                          If only Xibalba had made the same decision.

fin.