For the Love of Money | A Mixed Media Art Project for Alien Art Hive's INKTOBER PROMPT [#10-Fortune]

In response to the Alien Art Hive Community's Inktober Prompts that were part of their Cosmic Creations Edition #6 Contest, Cosmic Creations Edition #6 is LIVE: INKTOBER PROMPTS, members were encouraged to choose a prompt theme from the Inktober Prompts list for their entry into the contest.

After my entry into the contest with Prompt #17 - DEMON which I published on 9/23, I decided to take the Inktober concept one step further. I will focus on the remaining 30 Prompts on the list, beginning with Prompt #1. How fun the themes will be preparing my projects utilizing the mixed media art themes. If a Drabble story (100 words) or other flash fiction emerges, then all the more fun!

Below is my project for Inktober Prompt #10:

The villagers gathered around the simple, but large log and grass hut. Stars dotting the sky, sparkling as if choreographing their dance ritual in honor of the annual festival. Grayhorn, Chief of The Bronze Earth Tribe, emerged. He surveyed his clan, then gazed for several moments at the pale crescent moon. With one swift motion, all men present stepped forward. Not all desired to. But they had no other choice but obey.

The Bronze Earth Tribe resided in the valley. The mountains shielding their backs, glistening in the midday sun. Hunters and gatherers, the tribe had long past discovered the secret jewels the caverns protected.

Chief Grayhorn began at one end and proceeded down the line, tapping select men who had come of age, on the shoulders as he passed. Five were chosen.

Of those, his son and successor, Jonahawk, of medium build, but strong, smiled broadly. To be finally chosen to represent his tribe, his chest swelled with pride. He glanced toward his family. They cheered.

Another, Machukey, shook his fist high in the air. The crowd cheered and chanted. He was tall, heavy in build, massive shoulders that stood far apart. His muscles bulged in every direction. His face chiseled. His nostrils flared. That he would win, in his mind, was no doubt. He should have been chosen as successor. Kinship should not be a determining factor. The strongest warrior should inherit leadership of the tribe. And he had already proven his mantle.

All listened as Chief Grayhorn explained the mission. But first the annual ritual. They sang and danced around the bonfire. They ate hearty. Each one shared the hearty meal. An additional portion was saved for the warriors mission.

Working as a team, extraction of the precious golden rock from the mountain would mean another prosperous year for the tribe. Decision on the largest one would be collective. It would take collaboration to move the golden jewel and bring it back to the tribe.

The warriors would set out the next morning before the light of dawn filtered into their huts.

They all retired with their families. An hour later, Jonahawk called to Machukey, his best friend since childhood. Running a short distance into the woods, they finalized their secret plan set in motion years ago to upset the other three warriors and keep the gold stone for themselves. No matter who was chosen.

The next morning, five warriors bid their families farewell. With food sacs, long spears, and tools to chisel the fortune from the cave walls, they trekked five miles. An arduous journey, for safety, they kept close together until reaching the base of the mountain.

Once there, Machukey directed the men to set up camp. They began work and continued until the evening light faded. Away from the tribe, he exuded confidence. His directions were clear and concise. Others viewed him as a natural leader.

All five men worked three days until nightfall. On the fourth day, the large gold stone was finally extracted from the wall. The largest yet to return to the village.

Chief Grayhorn would be proud.

Machukey instructed the men to eat and rest well. Their long journey would be perilous hauling the precious jewel.

Jonahawk lay staring at the tree branches billowing in the night's breeze. He turned his face away from the gentleness of this innocent act. Tears flowed at the thought of one day becoming chief. Providing an overabundance of wealth for his family's ability to move away from the village was his main concern. If only he could steal away more often to visit the mountain. He had already located a foreign contact to sell the precious bounty the mountain offered.

Haunting him, the limbs parted as though exposing the hideous plan about to be executed. Startled, he gasped as Machukey shook his shoulder with one hand while covering his mouth with his other.

Machukey pointed to the other men, asleep nearby, unaware of their intended fate.

Jonahawk and Machukey slayed the tribesmen. With blood dripping down his arm, Jonahawk threw the ax into the brush. Ashamed, he turned away from them.

"It is done. Remember, Jonahawk, only the strongest should be allowed to survive and succeed. They were useful to us in helping to extract the gold stone. Nothing more."

Disposing of the bodies in the woods, Jonahawk and Machukey took only the time that was necessary, then returned to continue their journey.

Devising a means to pull the stone with only two men would be difficult. But they must return within the time allowed. It would have been an easy task with the many hands that set out on the quest three days ago.

The friends took turns carrying, pushing, then dragging the heavy gold stone by the glow of the night's moon.

Midway from the village and exhausted, they rolled the stone against a large tree. Covering it with a blanket, they stopped to rest.

Jonahawk fell asleep instantly, tired from the day's work. However, his dreams tormented him. Restless, he woke in a panic. Stealthily, he inched toward the tree. Uncovering the gold round, he breathed deeply.

Good. Time to put his plan into action. Machukey was a deep sleeper. No need to share. He could become one of the casualties of the journey. The gold could be mine alone, he reasoned.

Jonahawk cast off the blanket. Searching the woods nearby, he found a heavy stone and wood that could be used as a levy. For a moment, an odd sensation coursed through his body. He returned and stood over his friend.

As Machukey slept, Jonahawk slammed the stone down on his friend's head. There, he had killed him! The gold stone would be his.

The next morning, Jonahawk, with his new tools, rolled the gold mound a few feet down the path.

Suddenly, from behind, Machukey wrapped his arms around Jonahawk, breaking his connection with the gold. They tussled until both lay on the ground, panting. This time, Jonahawk did not move as his friend touched his body. Jonahawk miscalculated. He didn't realize that the night before, the stone was too light, and he was too weak to kill Machukey.

The gold mound now rest with Machukey. He would prove to be the bravest warrior and tribesman. He rolled the gold mound into the village.

"Where is my son?" Chief Grayhorn voice rose high for all villagers to hear.

"He fell ill together with the rest of the warriors. They did not survive." Machukey hung his head low lamenting for his fellow tribesmen.

Chief Grayhorn studied Machukey for several minutes before he spoke.

"You lie. Jonahawk lies dead not more than two miles from the edge of the woods by your hands. Just like the others. My guard witnessed the battle between you two as he had done your entire journey."

Machukey's eyes grew wide. His hands shook. With his chest protruding, he crossed his arms and clenched his jaw. The time had come to claim his rightful place.

"No. We did not battle. Your guard tells you a thing that did not happen. Not two miles into our journey, his stomach emptied. Hot with fever, he could not continue. He believed he would not live long for a disease had visited him. He didn't want to refuse the challenge so that his family would be wealthy. He asked that I be the one to bring the gold mound back. He understood and trusted me as a friend."

Finished with his story, Machukey held his head in his hands.

He did not see Jonahawk step from his father's tent and stand beside him. Disgusted with his friend, he spat on Machukey. Lying half dead, the guard had helped him back to their village.

Chief Grayhorn signaled both to be still. He spoke, disappointment clearly visible.

"I sent my son because I knew that he was greedy in his desire to improve his family. But you, Machukey, were greedy for power. Only then could you purchase the weapons needed to overthrow me and rule in my stead. I can forgive the former. You will be banished from our tribe. Go now and take your greed to the west into the region where no man has returned. See if you will be allowed to rule over them. I hold no ill-will. May God be with you."

The guards grabbed Machukey. He would be escorted to the edge of the village.

The chief turned toward his son. "Jonahawk, your desire for more and dissatisfaction with what you already have clouded your judgement in favor of ill choices. You were willing to go so far as lie and cheat your friends for your own gain. You will not collect from this challenge. Your greed has brought about your downfall. You will no longer be known as my son and successor. To be a leader, one must act for all his people, not just himself or a few. Money nor power will bring you happiness in this life."

Chief Grayhorn then turned to address his people.

"The challenge I set before the five warriors was to determine whether they could work together to bring the gold stone back to our village for prosperity's sake. I knew that jealousy and greed would overtaken Jonahawk and Machukey One for financial greed; the other for power greed."

"Our people will not survive divided. We must work together. Both failed the test I put before them."

"Let this be a warning to you. What does it matter if you gain a fortune, only to lose your soul?"

Enjoy one of my favorite 70s oldies with a message about the love of money: