The Haunting of Alejandra

by V. Castro

Without it being her time to bleed that month, her body knew she carried Emiliano’s child. Her belly had told her the news twice before.

It pointed at her because it knew.

Emiliano, this visionary fighter who loved her independent spirit, was her first and only love.

As it moved closer to the flame, she could see its loose flesh that resembled a dress because of the way it draped across its skeletal frame. Odd pieces of fabric and animal skin clung to its body. Strings of hair matted and wet like that of a dead animal sprouted from its skull. It lifted hands capped with arrowhead-shaped nails, the edges jagged and sharp.

“Give it to me before it dies!”

“Now, you stupid woman. It won’t survive. I can feel it. It belongs to me. See.”

It grabbed her left arm and flipped it. One fingernail traced the birthmark, its eyes and mouth taking in her fear. Without warning it punctured each individual brown spot on her skin.

She released shortened screams between clenched teeth, grabbing the creature’s neck to pull it closer to her. The creature thrashed, the light in its eyes going darker, like a solar eclipse, until Flor could feel a flood from between her legs. Both she and the creature looked down at the same time. She screamed at the sight before crumpling inside like layers of fabric.

“Find your father in heaven, little one. He has passed through death too,” Flor whispered.

“You did this. Wretched woman. Dead woman. Just like your mother.”

Flor pulled on the thing with the intention of destroying it by taking it inside of her own body.

She would transmute this creature into the blood of her womb if it wanted it so badly. Just like wine to the blood of Christ.

“I know. You are alive. It worked. Now it is time for me to tell you everything. All your life I have tried to protect you from me, my bad thoughts. The unholiness that has plagued me.”

I didn’t want you to have the curse.”

May my soul always be there to protect you and future generations of our bloodline.

Go to the altar. Take care of it. Call to our ancestors. Arm yourself with love and knowledge. The deep wisdom of intuition that is inside.”

Help from the ancestors and God. But things possessing power like the dark shadow telling me to harm myself do not relinquish it so easily. You have to take it. Take your power back and keep it inside of you.”

Hear my pleas. Taste my tears. Send help from the ancestors I never met to guide me through the darkness. To lift the white mantilla from the dead crying woman’s face so I may send her away. Protect my children and their children. Show them the way.

Everything needed always finds a way to make its way to us. Love, lovers, friends, miracles, and hope.

She inhaled the scent that could only mean her mother was near: roses and lavender.

It appeared to be lace at first, but on further inspection Flor found it had the texture of skin and the scent of rotting fish.

Bloody buttons from the nightgown she wore on her deathbed, a piece of something I found in her hand, and a patch from my skirt with my blood and the spilled blood of your sibling.

I hope you are all there. The women from my bloodline. Ancestors long dead. Give me your strength. I can’t change the past. Help me to give our future generations something better. I float in this pool of water just like you. May it turn to oil so I might cleanse us of this curse. Give my body and blood the power to purify.

“Where are they? Where are the rest of them? And you are dying too slowly,”

“Where are they? They are here,”

Ancestors, I call on you. The time has arrived for you to rise. To cleanse and purify with water and fire. Purge the world once and for all of this insipid creature of destruction.

“You want my seeds! Take them!”

“So many. I will have them all.” It gurgled inside of her. It ripped her ovaries and uterus with its teeth and claws, relishing the feeling of her organs in its hands as Alejandra screamed out to now release her anguish, let it brighten the room like fireworks.

In the back there stood a woman in a white wedding gown with a lace veil over her head, chanting a prayer.

out. The demon still relished gnawing and twisting in her uterus. Despite the agonizing pain, she continued to pull until there was nothing left of the demon in the bathtub. Her ancestors kept their hands outstretched. Their voices whispered prayers as they gave thanks for her courage in putting an end to the demon.

“Please, tell me. I need to know. I had a nightmare you were drowning.”

And Rosa decided to end her children’s lives because they would be filled with the same pain.

The unholy trinity of pain made her do it: The guilt of not wanting children. The belief that this was her only source of worth or power. And her envy of men who could do whatever

they pleased with very few co...

Now her daughters would never suffer abuse or have to sell themselves. Ever.

His gaze lingered on the curves of her body. She was used to that. But he also carried that same leer to her daughters.

It was then that she made the decision to end it all forever.

On the count of three we jump and fall into the hands of the angels; their wings of pure love like my love for you will take us to our destiny.”

“There are many times in life we feel there are no choices. Sometimes that is true. But I feel perhaps the true answers to the choices we must make find our way to us. Sometimes it is right away and at times it takes patience. Look at today. I have been asking for years for little angels to bless my life. You have been waiting for minutes to escape that lethal water. We were brought to each other at exactly the right moment. I had no choice or say that I could never conceive. But I choose to give you a good life with many choices if you choose me.”

overcome. Adana indeed gave them a good life through a thorough education, safety on the farm.

Well, she will most definitely be punished for her deeds. Yes, wander the Earth looking for them. Never able to rest. La Llorona crying for her children.

Bruised egos heal; scarred souls are not so easily repaired.

She allowed herself to cry one last time over the sink, a tribute to La Llorona, one of the many misunderstood women roaming the Earth, stuck between worlds, passing on curses

they may or may not understand.

She had been born to kill this demon. Someone had to end the cycle.

No one has ever seen you. Not your family, friends, lovers, even your children. For the longest time I didn’t. I see you now. I see you like no one else because we are one and the same and forever will be. And I adore you.