The Sun and the Moon
The first sun, the water sun, was carried off by the flood. All who lived in the world were turned into fishes.
The second sun was devoured by tigers.
The third was destroyed by a firestorm, which burned up the people.
The fourth sun, the wind sun, was wiped away by the storm. The people turned into monkeys and scattered in the woods.
Deep in thought, the gods met in Teotihuacán.
“Who will take care of bringing the dawn?”
The Lord of the Snails, famous for his strength and beauty, stepped forward.
“I will be the sun,” he said.
“Who else?
Silence.
The all looked at Little God Purulent, the ugliest and unluckiest of the gods, and they decided:
“You.”
The Lord of the Snails and Little God Purulent retired to the hills, which are now the pyramids of the sun and of the moon. There, fasting, they mediated.
Then the gods gathered firewood, built an enormous bonfire, and called them.
The Little God Purulent braced himself and jumped into the flames. He immediately emerged incandescent in the sky.
The Lord of the Snails looked frowning at the fire. He advanced, retreated, stopped. He turned around a few times. As he didn’t make up his midn, they had to push him. After much delay he rose into the sky. Furious, the gods slapped his face. They hit his face with a rabbit, again and again, until they killed his brightness. Thus, the arrogant Lord of the Snails became the moon. The stains on the moon are the scars of that punishment.
But the resplendent sun did not move. The sparrow hawk of obsidian (lava) flew to the Little God Purulent:
“Why don’t you move?”
And the despised, the purulent, the hunchback, the cripple, answered:
“Because I want the blood and the kingdom.”
This fifth sun, the sun of movement, illuminated the Toltecs and illuminates the Aztecs. It has claws and feeds on human hearts.
