Originally from a post about odd DnD cursed objects, but it kind of morphed into something else lol (It was a post by Prokopets on Tumblr)
Emmanuel posed atop the cracked schoolhouse steps. His physique wasn’t anything special, but he greatly enjoyed the feeling of soaking in the morning sun through his imagined muscles. He had been working on strengthening his average farm-boy form ever since he saw that strange “body-builder” in town last Sunday. This man’s form was different than that of the California logger he had met some years back: more beer-belly than muscle, propped up by not-terribly-impressive legs and finished with unbelievably huge work boots. It was a wonder he did not wobble like a top when he walked. That man, that “body-builder”, as his father called him, was also strangely shaped: Lumpy all over, barely able to fit in his button-up shirt, looking generally awkward and sloppy, but when he flexed his arms, legs, back, or abdomen, a beautiful network of pure, hard muscle would catch the light most spectacularly. It reminded Emmanuel of the ocean and the seashells sparkling in the sand as they were revealed by the tide. The sight was enough to light a peculiar fire in him. Despite his father’s hedonistic accusations regarding the man’s “prideful lifestyle”, Emmanuel immediately began asking for more work around his father’s small homestead purely to build muscle. His father was unaware of the true intention behind his fervor.
As Emmanuel basked in the warm sun, hitting awkward poses he had no real reference for, he mulled over his tasks for the day. His father, Lorenzo, had told him to buy strawberry seeds and hay from the local ranch, check up on the plow at the blacksmith, and fetch four new water jugs from Adrián, an old friend of his father’s. Emmanuel wanted to make sure he charted the longest route. This was, of course, just so he could strengthen his legs. Today’s ideal trip would include enough time for the blacksmith to finish the plow so he could haul it home with everything else. His father was aware these tasks would take all day, so if Emmanuel took the longest, most exhausting route, he would be none the wiser.
“Emmanuel?”
He jumped as the schoolhouse door creaked open.
“Oh, sorry Señora Fátima.” Emmanuel hung his head apologetically. “I just like the way the sun hits the top step. I apologize if I bothered you.”
Fátima quickly waved away his apology. “It’s alright. However, why are you here so early? I usually take the mornings to relax, but I just so happened to see someone’s shadow draped across my desk. What are those odd positions? I don’t think this is the first time I’ve seen you do that, is it?”
He kicked the ground in embarrassment. Clearly, he failed to hide his training from prying eyes. “No, Señora. I was just practicing.”
She let out a small hum, a common disapproving tell. “This has something to do with that odd fellow last week, doesn’t it?”
“Sí, Señora.” Before he could stop himself, more words bubbled out of this throat. “But, he’s not odd! He told me he works really hard, and he looks so cool, and…”
Fátima raised an eyebrow, lips pursing.
His head fell. “Sorry, Señora.”
“Emmanuel, I remember your father telling you some valuable advice in regards to the kind of life that man lives. Make sure you heed his words. Can you recite the verse for me?”
“Sí, Señora. Sorry, Señora. Ephesians seis-uno: ‘Hijos, obedeced a vuestros padres en el Señor, porque esto es justo.’, ‘Children, obey your parents and the Lord, for this is right.’”
“Good. I trust you will follow your father’s instruction, then.”
“Sí, Señora.”
“Good. Now, run along, I’m sure he gave you some chores to do. I will see you in two days.”
“Sí, Señora. Que te vaya bien. Have a good day.”
“A ti también, Emmanuel.” She sighed.
The stone steps were lined with moss that squished as he dejectedly tramped back to his burro and cart. He paid no attention to the door clasping shut behind him. She was likely just worried about him; his father’s words weren’t entirely wrong, after all. Building up one’s physical body was exactly the opposite of what he was taught in church and school.
Despite this logic, an odd anger swelled in his bones. Why was it their business anyway? Any kind of strength training is work, and hard work is highly praised in the Bible. Besides, if he were stronger, he would be able to do more for the farm, maybe even bring in a bit of extra money…
A sudden, impatient bray from the burro jolted him back to his senses. He quickly folded his hands and recited the Act of Contrition, putting any rebellious thoughts out of his head. He’d have to take the normal route today.
Research:
https://www.britannica.com/sports/bodybuilding
https://mojavedesert.net/ethnography/03.html
https://www.tachi-yokut-nsn.gov/
https://dp.la/primary-source-sets/the-homestead-acts
https://cara.ucmerced.edu/page/timeline-crops
https://www.behindthename.com/names/gender/feminine/usage/mexican
To be honest, I have no idea where I got the bodybuilder idea from. Sometimes I just have ideas that seem to pop into my head. I do know that I wanted to originally focus on the idea from Prokopets, that being the sword that does emotional damage. However… I just couldn’t figure out how to incorporate a Yakut spear that does emotional damage into the story lol. To be honest, I kind of like this more historical fiction short story. The teacher was supposed to be a supportive character, but I figured that is NOT how a traditional Catholic Mexican immigrant would view bodybuilding. It’s also super interesting how long bodybuilding has been around in America. Coolio
Lily Leaflets 