Gallows
There were no trick or treaters that year. Not one.
Lourdes awoke on Halloween morning, drifted down from her bedroom to the first floor and quietly thought of breakfast. After several minutes of deep and oppressive silence she turned on the radio and listened to several more minutes of abrupt and chaotic news reports.
Death. Dismemberment. Carnage.
All they could talk about were the many sightings of the Beast—factual and imagined—from the previous weekend. There were portents, superstitions, and alignments in the heavens that coincided with the now waning full moon. There were veiled threats and suppositions that cast ominous shadows upon her family’s landscape. There were fingers pointed, shouted voices and raised torches just beyond her field of vision.
She finally turned off the radio and let early morning return to what it was, instead of what it would inevitably become. In its place she intuited the spiders and centipedes that lived in the basement and crawlspaces beneath her feet. She pondered how and why they chose their victims.
Her thoughts turned to her Uncle.
Experience told her he wouldn’t spare her bad news. Lobo could never hide what he felt from her. When he was concerned, he paced about as if animals clawed at the door. Anger made the clouds darken and color drain from his face. But when he smiled or laughed, birds would often alight on his shoulders and storms drifted off and bothered others.
Her Aunt, Elmiranda, had thick brown hair that was braided into serpentine vines. Her full lips were arterial red, while her complexion was as white as an October moon. Thin, extreme brows highlighted her wide, green eyes, framed by lashes as black as a bat’s wing.
After a few moments of contemplation Lourdes opened her eleven-year-old doe-brown eyes and thought over the consequences of her decision.
It was remarkably easier than it should have been.
Once dressed she went out the back door, slipped over her neighbor’s fence and planted ragged and fearsome tracks in his muddied yard—like breadcrumbs to the gallows. By the time she had finished, her pale skin was prickled and damp, the sun just shy of risen.
She went back in and prepared for school.
Lourdes waited at the bus stop. None of her friends showed up.
She walked through the halls of her school and listened to the other children, oblivious to her penitence and ruth.
Not a single person talked to her.
She ate her lunch alone.
When school was over she boarded the bus and sat by herself with her school bag upon her lap.
She arrived home, walked up the stairs, stopped on the front porch and looked off toward the horizon. Orange filtered through seasonal clouds like pumpkins burning. Small, black and gray wisps from a passed storm hung in the air, provoking thoughts of rain.
Stepping inside, she saw her Uncle Lobo. He sat on the couch, his face coarse, white and worried. His legs were propped up on the table while he studied the floor in front of the victrola.
He had come home Sunday—after the police had interrogated Lourdes and her Aunt. Once he had finished scrubbing the spot where Elmiranda’s fingernails had melted, he’d sat on the couch. On Monday, all the birds in the city flew away at precisely the same time.
For two hours, the sky was blacker than pitch.
He hadn’t moved since.
Lourdes placed her book bag on the dining room table before going upstairs to her Aunt’s room. When she had finished putting on her Halloween costume, she stood in front of the étagère and studied herself in its mirror until the sun had set and Elmiranda had awakened from the sleep of the Dead.
She went downstairs and watched Lobo before checking the candy by the front door. The basket was filled to overflowing with a variety of chocolate bars, caramelos and glazed nuts
Her Uncle wouldn’t meet her gaze.
Elmiranda offered to go trick or treating with her.
Lourdes decided to go alone.
No one answered any of the doors she rang.
She avoided her neighbor’s house.
She went to bed without taking her costume off.
She couldn’t fall asleep.
She got up walked to the foot of the bed sat down stared at her closet door for an hour walked to the window looked for the moon studied the tracks in her neighbor’s yard went back to bed and fell into restless sleep.
The police didn’t return.
The bandage stayed on Elmiranda’s hand for a month.
Her fingernails never grew back.
The crowd appeared at 11:55 PM, Halloween night.
It burned her neighbor’s house to the ground.
There were no trick or treaters that year. Not one.
Lourdes awoke on Halloween morning, drifted down from her bedroom to the first floor and quietly thought of breakfast. After several minutes of deep and oppressive silence she turned on the radio and listened to several more minutes of abrupt and chaotic news reports.
Death. Dismemberment. Carnage.
All they could talk about were the many sightings of the Beast—factual and imagined—from the previous weekend. There were portents, superstitions, and alignments in the heavens that coincided with the now waning full moon. There were veiled threats and suppositions that cast ominous shadows upon her family’s landscape. There were fingers pointed, shouted voices and raised torches just beyond her field of vision.
She finally turned off the radio and let early morning return to what it was, instead of what it would inevitably become. In its place she intuited the spiders and centipedes that lived in the basement and crawlspaces beneath her feet. She pondered how and why they chose their victims.
Her thoughts turned to her Uncle.
Experience told her he wouldn’t spare her bad news. Lobo could never hide what he felt from her. When he was concerned, he paced about as if animals clawed at the door. Anger made the clouds darken and color drain from his face. But when he smiled or laughed, birds would often alight on his shoulders and storms drifted off and bothered others.
Her Aunt, Elmiranda, had thick brown hair that was braided into serpentine vines. Her full lips were arterial red, while her complexion was as white as an October moon. Thin, extreme brows highlighted her wide, green eyes, framed by lashes as black as a bat’s wing.
After a few moments of contemplation Lourdes opened her eleven-year-old doe-brown eyes and thought over the consequences of her decision.
It was remarkably easier than it should have been.
Once dressed she went out the back door, slipped over her neighbor’s fence and planted ragged and fearsome tracks in his muddied yard—like breadcrumbs to the gallows. By the time she had finished, her pale skin was prickled and damp, the sun just shy of risen.
She went back in and prepared for school.
Lourdes waited at the bus stop. None of her friends showed up.
She walked through the halls of her school and listened to the other children, oblivious to her penitence and ruth.
Not a single person talked to her.
She ate her lunch alone.
When school was over she boarded the bus and sat by herself with her school bag upon her lap.
She arrived home, walked up the stairs, stopped on the front porch and looked off toward the horizon. Orange filtered through seasonal clouds like pumpkins burning. Small, black and gray wisps from a passed storm hung in the air, provoking thoughts of rain.
Stepping inside, she saw her Uncle Lobo. He sat on the couch, his face coarse, white and worried. His legs were propped up on the table while he studied the floor in front of the victrola.
He had come home Sunday—after the police had interrogated Lourdes and her Aunt. Once he had finished scrubbing the spot where Elmiranda’s fingernails had melted, he’d sat on the couch. On Monday, all the birds in the city flew away at precisely the same time.
For two hours, the sky was blacker than pitch.
He hadn’t moved since.
Lourdes placed her book bag on the dining room table before going upstairs to her Aunt’s room. When she had finished putting on her Halloween costume, she stood in front of the étagère and studied herself in its mirror until the sun had set and Elmiranda had awakened from the sleep of the Dead.
She went downstairs and watched Lobo before checking the candy by the front door. The basket was filled to overflowing with a variety of chocolate bars, caramelos and glazed nuts
Her Uncle wouldn’t meet her gaze.
Elmiranda offered to go trick or treating with her.
Lourdes decided to go alone.
No one answered any of the doors she rang.
She avoided her neighbor’s house.
She went to bed without taking her costume off.
She couldn’t fall asleep.
She got up walked to the foot of the bed sat down stared at her closet door for an hour walked to the window looked for the moon studied the tracks in her neighbor’s yard went back to bed and fell into restless sleep.
The police didn’t return.
The bandage stayed on Elmiranda’s hand for a month.
Her fingernails never grew back.
The crowd appeared at 11:55 PM, Halloween night.
It burned her neighbor’s house to the ground.
