How One Man's Obsession with Shiny Things Led to a Load of Coal

The northern reaches of Coahuila is a place so rugged and remote that only the truly mad or magnificently stubborn would think to make their fortunes there. It’s here, among the desert sands and thorny chaparral of the Cinco Manantiales region, where our protagonist—a man of cattle and grit by the name of Mariano—was destined to become either a legend or a fool. You see, Mariano wasn’t just another cowboy wrangling his herd in that desolate expanse; he was a man possessed by ambition, cursed (or perhaps blessed) by a gnawing, relentless need to reach for something beyond the dust and dirt of the cattle corral. And so, his story begins on a night when the only thing more numerous than stars were the cows bellowing in the distance.

Mariano, alone in the night, surrounded by his beasts and the vast emptiness of "El Llano." It’s the sort of landscape that makes you feel small, like a speck of sand in the cosmic storm, and if you stay out there long enough, you start to wonder if maybe the whispers in the wind aren’t just in your head. Suddenly, out of nowhere—a light. Not a flickering lantern or the embers of a campfire, but a strange, ethereal glow hovering just beyond the reach of his cattle pen, the sort of light that seems less like it belongs in Coahuila and more like something that would show up in an X-Files episode. Naturally, Mariano, being a curious (if somewhat reckless) man, decided he had to investigate.

Now, some men might have walked away. Some men might have said, "Oh, it’s a trick of the desert," or, "I must’ve inhaled a bit too much dust today." But not Mariano. No, he went right towards the light, stumbling and tripping over rocks and cow patties, until he reached the very spot where this glow had shone. But just as he got close enough to touch it—poof—it vanished, like a mirage melting in the desert heat. All that was left in its wake was a massive hole in the ground, wide and ominous, like the earth had yawned open to reveal a hidden secret.

Peering down, Mariano’s heart skipped a beat. There, at the bottom, lay a massive, gleaming vase. It was beautiful, more intricately designed than anything you’d expect to find buried in the middle of nowhere. And in that moment, Mariano didn’t think about the absurdity of it all. No, he thought only of riches. "This is it," he probably muttered to himself, as he wiped the sweat from his brow. "This is my ticket out of this godforsaken cattle life." His mind was already racing, calculating the peso equivalent of an ancient, treasure-laden vase. With visions of grandeur filling his head, he leapt into action, furiously digging into the ground around the hole, convinced there must be more down there.

Hours passed, the desert chill creeping in as the night wore on. But there was no other treasure to be found, only more dirt and rocks. Still, Mariano’s fingers clawed at the earth, his resolve unwavering. Then, just as he was about to give up, a peculiar sound echoed from deep within the darkness. It was faint at first, like the soft, distant gallop of a horse. Mariano froze, cocking his head to listen. The noise grew louder, more insistent, until it became unmistakable—the thundering of hooves, and then, chillingly, voices, cursing and shouting from the shadows.

Well, as anyone with an ounce of sense would do, Mariano promptly fainted. One moment, he was on his knees, feverishly scraping the dirt, and the next, he was flat on his back, the world fading to black as the spectral cacophony reached a fever pitch. When he finally came to, expecting to find himself surrounded by treasure or, at the very least, something of value, all he saw was a pile of coal. Just coal. A heap of worthless, dusty black lumps that stared up at him mockingly.

Heartbroken but still clinging to that glimmer of possibility, Mariano refused to give up. They say he returned to that spot again and again, each time hoping that the desert might finally relent and reveal the fortune he was sure was buried beneath the surface. And he wasn’t the only one who thought so. Word spread among the locals, tales of Mariano’s curse, his relentless quest, and the hidden treasure in the Llano grew, evolving into one of those legends you tell in hushed voices around a campfire.

To this day, some still say the treasure is out there, but that it’s cursed, bound to remain forever hidden until the "chosen one" arrives to claim it. The smart money says that anyone with a lick of sanity would stay far away from such nonsense. But if you’re ever in Coahuila, and you see a strange light out in the desert, you just might be mad enough—or perhaps foolish enough—to go looking for Mariano’s treasure. Just don’t come crying when all you find is coal.

In-text Citation: (Flores Farías, 2021, pp. 33-33)