The Stranger in the Mist and Viracocha's Silent Punishment
A legend about the creator god Viracocha
Viracocha. A village lay high among the mountains, so close to the sky that the clouds sometimes brushed the rooftops. The place was rich in stone and poor in heart, for the people counted their provisions more carefully than their good deeds. A saying hung in every house, invisible yet weighty: First me, then everyone else.
A stranger came up the steep path one evening. A coat It hung around his shoulders, thin as a promise made too late There is. A stick helped his steps, but the stick was not A threat, merely a support. A coldness clung to him like dew to grass. and their eyes seemed still, as if they had been there for years. seen without talking about it.
The first door opened only a crack. A hand pointed Outwards, not to greet, but to ward off. A thirst lay within. on the stranger's lips, and a hunger was written all over his face, like he only comes from long journeys.
Perusino in conversation with Viracocha
The stranger asked for a cup of water and a place by the fire. Laughter came back, harsh and dry. There was a river outside, they said. and a fire inside for their own. The door slammed shut. as if she were offended that she had been needed at all.
The second door opened wider, but the heart behind it remained closed. closer. A man with full hands and a blank stare scrutinized the Strangers, as if poverty were contagious. The stranger asked for a piece of bread. And the answer came quickly: Bread is for work, not for begging. One glance at the coat, one glance at the shoes, and again it fell the door to the lock.
The third door belonged to an old woman. A small house stood there. there, crooked and hunched over, as if it had leaned against the mountain to not to fall over. A lamp burned inside, casting a warm light. outside, as if it had no fear of the dark. The woman looked They looked at the stranger, and their eyes did something that was unusual in this village Something that had become rare: they really looked.
Perusina's facts about Viracocha
A jug of water stood on the bench, and a bowl of soup stood there. on the stove. There was a free spot by the fire because the woman didn't have many She had guests, but many thoughts. She gave the stranger a nod. and a word that sounded like a blanket: Come in.
The stranger took a sip of water, slowly, as if he were greeting the stranger. Thank water. A spoonful of soup followed, thin yet honest. The woman added a little bread, not out of abundance, but because Decency.
A wind swept across the rooftops outside. A knocking sound arose at the shutters, as if the mountains themselves wanted to look inside. A Shadows flickered on the wall, and the fire crackled as if it were upset.
The woman thought of a name (Viracocha) without having looked for it. A A name that lies in old stories like a stone in a river, which everyone They know it, but no one likes to touch it. A name that, after the beginning, tastes.
"Viracocha," the woman said softly.
A smile appeared on the stranger's face, small as a A star breaking through clouds. There was no yes, and there was a no. Nor did it. A silence fell between them, so quiet, that she didn't press.
Stepping onto the threshold suddenly became difficult, because outside Fog gathered. A fog crept down the slope like a large, gray hand. A shout echoed through the village, first one, then many. A Fear grew, fast as fire in dry grass.
The doors that had just been closed opened. People entered. out, which had just been hard. The eyes searched for the strangers, and their mouths sought excuses that were not were prepared.
A wailing filled the alley. A plea joined the wailing. And anger joined the supplication, because anger always comes when Someone realizes they've done something wrong.
A fog obscured people's vision, and with their vision, he took They lost their courage. A child stumbled, a man cursed, a woman cried. A dog yelped, because animals notice more quickly when something is wrong. that's not true.
One call was louder than the others: The old woman should... Send strangers away, otherwise the village will perish.
The old woman stepped outside. A coat lay over her Shoulders, and hands were empty because they already had everything they needed. had given. A glance swept over the crowd, and in that glance There was no pride, only weariness.
One word came from her, calm as a bowl of water: A command That's not possible. A beggar can't be ordered around, and a And certainly not God.
A jeering voice flew from the crowd like a stone: A god does not sit in a poor house.
A stranger rose by the fire, slowly, as if he were waiting for time. He stopped. One step brought him to the door, and the fog lifted around him. He turned around, as if he had learned respect. His gaze swept over the village, and that look was not angry. A disappointment lay beneath it. in it, heavier than anger.
A sentence was spoken, quietly yet audible even on the last rooftop: A Bread is small. A heart is bigger.
A man from the second house stepped forward, holding his hands full. A pouch hung at his side, and his fingers held it tightly as Could someone take him away? A shout came from him, quick and loud. so that everyone could hear him: A mistake had been made, and it was all just a coincidence. a misunderstanding.
A fog didn't laugh. A fog didn't explain anything. A fog stayed.
A stranger raised his hand, and with that hand, the Fog, a little, just enough to see faces. could. Some cheeks bore a tinge of shame, while others had only... Aggravation.
A child stepped forward, a child from the first house that had opened the door. had struck quickly. A child was holding a cup of water, which which had not been handed to them earlier. A shiver ran through the little ones. Hands, because courage always trembles when it is real.
A cup was placed in front of the stranger. A glance came from the A child who said more than words: A mistake has been recognized.
A stranger took the cup, but he did not drink the water. He placed the cup on the ground as if it were a sign. A head He leaned forward, and a sentence was spoken: A thank you was possible. A learning was possible. better.
A fog began to descend, slowly, as if it were moving. to withdraw because he had done his work. One way was Visible: a roof, a tree, a stone. A breath went through the The village looked as if it had been underwater for a long time.
A stranger turned to the old woman. His gaze softened, and A voice spoke in such a way that only she could hear it properly: There was a fire. More than flames. A house is more than walls.
The farewell came without grand gestures. One step led down the slope. down, then another. One coat shrank, and the stranger It became a focal point in the evening. The fog had lifted, but something remained.
A village remained silent for a long time because the fog not only... The view had been taken, but also the excuses. A loaf of bread was on The next day it was shared more often. A cup of water was frequently on the table. Bank. Laughter sounded warmer again because it sounded less like mockery. tasted good.
A stone lay by the path, like all the stones there. One stone received from Give the children a name, because children give names so that things will not be forgotten. A name was whispered, not out of fear. but from memory: Viracocha.
That wasn't the end, just a warning, like a fairy tale. It sounds. A door can close quickly. A heart can slow down. rise.
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