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Atzi wondered if any place could be safe forever from the new world being created by the invaders who had arrived with a cross in one hand and sword in the other. The conquered would be cut down with one or the other if they did not submit.
Alejandra didn’t know how to articulate that she would rather die than experience another day in her current existence, as herself. Her soul felt so dim, the slightest shift of wind or breath might snuff it out.
Matthew never raised a hand to her, but goddamn if sometimes the energy radiating from his words didn’t impact her like a punch or a slice of a straight razor.
It occurred to Frances that perhaps everyone wore another set of clothing beneath their human skin, stitched together with all the things they hated about themselves and tried to hide. How does one shed such a thing?
figured a ghost was better than a priest who dismissed me when I asked for help.”
It saddened her that Matthew was not part of her mental picture. Perhaps they had only been meant to be for a while, their time together coming to a natural end as she blossomed, released her true fragrance.
I can’t change the past. Help me to give our future generations something better.
Alejandra sat upright, leaning into the creature to look into its burning, starlike eyes. She was face-to-face with the nightmare that had plagued her all her life without her knowing it. The ugliness did not frighten her. It was the ugliness she felt for herself. The worst level of hell to be held captive. Alejandra felt sorry for the thing because it could never experience the true beauty of existence. That was its curse. It would hunger and never feel satiated, living in a constant state of hatred of what it lacked.
There is always a way in the dark.
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 consequences.
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.
