Carlos Fidel Espinoza
“Jesus Rock–o, what the fuck happened to your face?”
“Use nose house it goes, a promoter offers use money and use can’t refuse. What are use suppose to dews, Paulie’s dialyses, the kid wants a new car, Mickey’s gym is falling apart, when use need money, use need money, Woody.”
“You can act in one of my movie, don’t let this dentist outfit fool you, it’s a character study. The perks are great, young assistants in tight turquoise scrubs, you know, getting to look down a blouse during a root canal, and feeling up a skirt when you juice her nitrous oxide, Soon Yi working reception, if you could do it all over you might consider this gig.”
“Use nose these two hands are the money makers.”
“Holy Shabbat, your condition would fit the new script perfectly; it’s about a has-been boxer who won’t retire, he’s been knocked out so many times he can’t get it up. You really would fit the roll, considering you’ve done pornos and we worked on Bananas together. You’re a little short in the pants, but it will add to the dramatic effect. Yes, your little thing in my big film, Yasher koach!”
“Use better take it easy doc. Just cause use see me all beat to shit and missing some teeth don’t thinks use wouldn’t get the Italian Stallion all over yo’ ass. Use knows being a wise–guy make use tough. Use thinks it’s easy to be the muscle for Jimmy the Mook? Use got another thing coming.”
“We Brooklyn Jews don’t back down. You’re gonna get Woody going Kabala all over your ass. You already got the shit beat out of you by three black guys, a Russian and a White kid, do you want to add a Jew to the list?”
“Fuck use!”
“Let’s do this, Mazel Tov, bitch!”
“Use lousy Jewish fuck, use stabbed me! Get your ass back here. Adrian! Adrian!”
Showing posts with label Short Stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Short Stories. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
And the Geo-metro Gave Birth
Carlos Fidel Espinoza
Angel Alberto squinted to see through the fog and tarnish that was his old mirror. He drew two small, black, triangles under each eye. His right hand dipped into the tub of cold, white, make-up and he smeared it on his chin and cheeks. He took the tube of red number thirty-six lipstick painted his lips and the area around his lips; grabbed the small red ball with a slit on one side, squeezed it so that the slit would open like the mouth of a small bird begging for food, and placed it on his nose. Angel Alberto thought his reflection resembled a five-hundred year old fresco painting, San Payaso. When he walked out of his small apartment, his friends were outside. The five men, waiting for Angel had on similar make-up. The six of them crammed and elbowed themselves into the yellow Geo-metro that Angel Alberto’s mother had left him when she had passed several years ago.
They drove down Ave. 16 de Septiembre; at the stop lights Angel Alberto looked out the car window to the corner where he and his friend Filberto would normally be juggling and twisting bright colored, phallic shaped balloons into small dogs. When they arrived at the church, a small child pulled on his mothers dress and said “momy mira los payasos.” The six men stretched and pulled as the Geo-metro gave birth to them two at a time. They opened the doors to church and were greeted with a chorus of quite weeps and sobs. Women and there children where huddled around the closed brown box, they carried black rosaries and wiped there faces with white handkerchiefs. Angel Alberto began to walk towards them, but one of his friends grabbed his right shoulder, shook his head no and pointed to the last row of pews where the other four men sat.
After the service the six men stood up, walked to the box and grabbed the metal bars that were on both sides of the box. When the six men lifted the box a sharp cold pain ran up their arms, to Angel Alberto it felt as if though he was lifting a piece of solid ice. As they walked out of the church, to the white cargo van that had its backdoors open; Angel Alberto thought about his friend who lay inside the box. Though his angular face had been made a soft pulp, Angel Alberto knew, underneath the chunks of bone and now rotting flesh his friend had on his white make-up and red plastic nose.
Angel Alberto squinted to see through the fog and tarnish that was his old mirror. He drew two small, black, triangles under each eye. His right hand dipped into the tub of cold, white, make-up and he smeared it on his chin and cheeks. He took the tube of red number thirty-six lipstick painted his lips and the area around his lips; grabbed the small red ball with a slit on one side, squeezed it so that the slit would open like the mouth of a small bird begging for food, and placed it on his nose. Angel Alberto thought his reflection resembled a five-hundred year old fresco painting, San Payaso. When he walked out of his small apartment, his friends were outside. The five men, waiting for Angel had on similar make-up. The six of them crammed and elbowed themselves into the yellow Geo-metro that Angel Alberto’s mother had left him when she had passed several years ago.
They drove down Ave. 16 de Septiembre; at the stop lights Angel Alberto looked out the car window to the corner where he and his friend Filberto would normally be juggling and twisting bright colored, phallic shaped balloons into small dogs. When they arrived at the church, a small child pulled on his mothers dress and said “momy mira los payasos.” The six men stretched and pulled as the Geo-metro gave birth to them two at a time. They opened the doors to church and were greeted with a chorus of quite weeps and sobs. Women and there children where huddled around the closed brown box, they carried black rosaries and wiped there faces with white handkerchiefs. Angel Alberto began to walk towards them, but one of his friends grabbed his right shoulder, shook his head no and pointed to the last row of pews where the other four men sat.
After the service the six men stood up, walked to the box and grabbed the metal bars that were on both sides of the box. When the six men lifted the box a sharp cold pain ran up their arms, to Angel Alberto it felt as if though he was lifting a piece of solid ice. As they walked out of the church, to the white cargo van that had its backdoors open; Angel Alberto thought about his friend who lay inside the box. Though his angular face had been made a soft pulp, Angel Alberto knew, underneath the chunks of bone and now rotting flesh his friend had on his white make-up and red plastic nose.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Bike Riding
By Rodrigo Rojo
I loved riding my bike while I was growing up. My friends and I used to go all over our neighborhood and beyond on our bikes. Sometimes I would even go out on my own. Looking back, I think I’m pretty lucky I never got seriously inured.
I remember one day I had traveled more than two miles to a friend’s house by myself. I was maybe about 12 years old. When it started to get dark, I started going back home. I was less than half a mile from home when suddenly my front tire gave out a small pop as it began shaking. I had a flat tire. I had no choice but to walk home, pushing my bike, in the dark. I really wasn’t worried. After all, I was only about two blocks away.
Not long after however, two shady teenage boys on one bike passed by me traveling in the opposite direction - one sitting down on the seat peddling feverishly while the other stood behind him, with hands on the driver’s shoulders and feet on the diablos attached to the back wheel. Seems like two cholos on one bike could use another bike. That’s probably what they thought as they turned back. The standing passenger got off and approached me. “Give me the bike,” he said as he grabbed hold of one side of my handlebars and began tugging. I refused by clenching both hands tighter on the grips of my handlebars and yelled out, “No!”
“GIVE ME THE BIKE!” he repeated as he tugged again. I pulled back harder and exclaimed, “NO!” He reached into his pocket with his other hand and began shaking it, giving out a jingling sound. “I have a knife!” he threatened. I didn’t know what to do. I was terrified.
“WENDY!” I yelled out as loud as I could as I turned toward the house that we happened to be in front of. Wendy is the name of a girl I knew from elementary school and I remembered she lived on my street just a couple of blocks away. It worked! The two cholos fled. Relieved, I took a better look at the house that I believed to be where Wendy lived. It wasn’t her house - I was off by one block.
I loved riding my bike while I was growing up. My friends and I used to go all over our neighborhood and beyond on our bikes. Sometimes I would even go out on my own. Looking back, I think I’m pretty lucky I never got seriously inured.
I remember one day I had traveled more than two miles to a friend’s house by myself. I was maybe about 12 years old. When it started to get dark, I started going back home. I was less than half a mile from home when suddenly my front tire gave out a small pop as it began shaking. I had a flat tire. I had no choice but to walk home, pushing my bike, in the dark. I really wasn’t worried. After all, I was only about two blocks away.
Not long after however, two shady teenage boys on one bike passed by me traveling in the opposite direction - one sitting down on the seat peddling feverishly while the other stood behind him, with hands on the driver’s shoulders and feet on the diablos attached to the back wheel. Seems like two cholos on one bike could use another bike. That’s probably what they thought as they turned back. The standing passenger got off and approached me. “Give me the bike,” he said as he grabbed hold of one side of my handlebars and began tugging. I refused by clenching both hands tighter on the grips of my handlebars and yelled out, “No!”
“GIVE ME THE BIKE!” he repeated as he tugged again. I pulled back harder and exclaimed, “NO!” He reached into his pocket with his other hand and began shaking it, giving out a jingling sound. “I have a knife!” he threatened. I didn’t know what to do. I was terrified.
“WENDY!” I yelled out as loud as I could as I turned toward the house that we happened to be in front of. Wendy is the name of a girl I knew from elementary school and I remembered she lived on my street just a couple of blocks away. It worked! The two cholos fled. Relieved, I took a better look at the house that I believed to be where Wendy lived. It wasn’t her house - I was off by one block.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Burberry Blue
Burberry Blue
by Maegan Ramirez
Beads of sweat bubbled up along my hairline and upper lip the minute I stepped outside. Haylie and I had had enough of those stupid Forum Shops. Now what? Las Vegas wasn’t home and The Strip wasn’t ours to play with. While Grampy and Dad tried their luck at blackjack and Grammy and Mom warmed the stools in front of the nickel slots, we were told to stay together and not to talk to strangers.
“Especially if they don’t look clean girls. You shouldn’t talk to someone dirty-looking.” Grammy always kept things clean.
Haylie talked to The Burberry Man, though. She had to. He thought we wanted some of his store’s scarves in the dead of a desert summer. He thought we wanted to take something tan, black, red, white and bland without paying for it. We didn’t and we couldn’t because Mom stuffed our backpacks with sandwiches and granola bars and bottles of water that we could refill at any water fountain for free so that we wouldn’t waste money on overpriced, over-salted shopping mall pretzels. Nothing had a price tag on it. I looked and looked. The Burberry Man noticed me looking, even after Haylie told me to stop being so “gauche” and “uncouth.” He noticed and he followed, from section to section, from the handbags to the blouses and back. Tugging on my backpack she whispered, “We have to go.”
“No, I don’t want to.”
She leaned in close enough for me to feel her lips brush against my ear. Her voice was smooth, but forced. “We can’t afford anything. He isn’t even going to ask us if we need help looking for stuff.”
The Burberry Man cleared his throat and sighed. It wasn’t one of those I’m having-a-really-bad-day-sighs; it was a hurry-the-hell-up sigh. I didn’t want to hurry. I wanted to spend the whole afternoon there. I wanted to stick around so long that his feet would begin to swell inside his narrow, shiny black shoes and hurt, hurt, hurt. I wanted to see if I could make him walk a million steps in a 20’ x 40’ space in less than five minutes. But his sigh and the clickety-clack of his pointy toe that followed made Haylie spin around so quickly that her hair looked like a black skirt in the middle of a dance.
“What?”
“Excuse me?” He raised his eyebrows, but he didn’t look up from the cuticles that he was pushing back with this thumbnail.
She started towards him pulling her backpack off her shoulders. When they were toe-to-toe she unzipped it and threw it on his feet.
“You see? I can’t bag anything and my pockets aren’t that deep. So you’re either going to ask us if you can assist us with anything, or you’re going to slither off.”
He was looking down his sharp nose, directly at her. He didn’t really say anything, but I think he tried. All I heard was a high, thin “Eh.” A lady dressed in a high-waisted black skirt and expensive-looking whit blouse clickety-clacked her way behind the Burberry Man. She smelled like a fistful of those perfume sample cards.
“Is there a problem?” Her voice was as crisp and tight as her blouse.
“No, no problem. My little sister just wanted to rummage through some of last season’s fashions. We noticed that that’s all you carry, so we thought we might pick up a few things. But since all we got was harassed, we won’t be giving you our business. That’s a shame, ‘cause you could really use it. I don’t see anyone else in here.”
She had already slipped back into her bag when The Burberry Woman said, “If you don’t leave right now I’m calling security.”
Haylie was already out the door and out of the Forum before I caught up with her.
“They’re stupid, Haylie! But you didn’t have to get so mad. I mean, I don’t—“
“Shut up.”
The outdoor misters started spraying the sidewalk. She pulled me to the other side so that the fanny-packed tourists could pass. Many sunscreened people came and went before she said anything else.
“I think I saw a Sally’s a few blocks away. Let’s buy hair dye and hang out in the room.”
“When did you see it?”
“Last night when we went to Vons. It’s on the way. It’s not far, we can walk.”
But it was that far, and although I knew Haylie wouldn’t let anything happen to us, I wasn’t sure that I trusted her way. I also wasn’t sure that Mom would be happy with us playing with hair dye in the hotel bathroom. I could already hear her telling us about how Circus Circus was going to charge us extra for the towels we ruined. IN between Haylie telling me to shut up and when I pointed out stores and restaurants that we didn’t have in El Paso, I took inventory of every ordinary thing about the city. Away from The Strip, Las Vegas isn’t anything special. Away from The Strip, I couldn’t been anywhere, been anyone. But I was Ainsleigh Gomez from El Paso, Texas and I’d just been thrown out of Fake Rome by my very first Burberry Couple.
We finally got to a Sally’s that looked just like every other Sally’s ever. It even smelled like the one five minutes from our house. The lady with white-blue hair smiled and nodded as we walked in and Haylie led me past the nail enamels, bright and loud as the lights on The Strip, then past the rows of Nice ‘n Easy and Afro Sheen. We stood in an aisle full of bottles that stunk and didn’t come packaged in boxes with pretty ladies throwing their heads back and laughing on them.
“I’m going to need bleach. My hair’s too dark, the pink won’t show. What color do you want?”
“You’re going to dye your hair pink?”
“Yeah. You?”
I picked up a bottle just like the one Haylie had in her hand. The air conditioner had already dried the seat to salt beds on my skin, but I still wanted to be somewhere deep and cool. I grabbled a bottle of blue.
“I want ocean waves on my head.”
We walked to the register and the woman who smiled and nodded squinted hard when I pushed my
purchases towards her. Her beady eyes sank into her doughy, powdered face.
“You sure you want these, honey?” she asked, holding up the bottles. “Hardly anything works for girls as dark as you.”
Haylie tossed her money towards her with one hand and squeezed my shoulder with the other. “Just ring us up, lady.”
She was about to scan the blue I blurted out, “Don’t. I don’t want it.”
“Ainsleigh, you can dye your hair any color you want.”
“I know, but I want you to bleach my hair and leave it that way. Leave me looking like something that hardly works.”
Saturday, November 20, 2010
The Legend of Quetzalcoatl
by Juan Alvarado
The air was cold and burned my soaked body as I crawled out of the dark green water. The murky mud was difficult to grip as I pulled myself out, my left arm screaming in torment staining the mud vivid red. I heard the water ripping apart like a piece of paper; the divine terror roared with anger that quaked the earth. I took a glance back and the yellow eyes glowed with thirst for blood as the roar of the monstrous beast showed its razor sharp teeth three times the size of the fangs of a jaguar. The magnificent creature stood 50 elbows high and as wide as the biggest of bears with a divine, incandescent build of a body with precious jade stones outlined with gold. The divine terror of the beast compels me to move, leaving myself vulnerable to an instant death and would I ever see my love again race through my mind.
She was the most beautiful woman my eyes ever had the grace of seeing her snowy skin and the glow of her silvery hair reflected the light of nature into her dark blue Eden eyes like the sun does in the purest of lakes. She was a goddess walking with men, and indeed she was the creation herself, the goddess Coatlicue. She graces us with her presence, to have her so close like a nurturing mother. I knew my feelings were wrong but I couldn’t help falling in love with her. She stayed in my mind for days, tempting my sinful love.
From time to time I felt like the dreams were real, eventually trying to link with me, a respond to my calling. We converse and walk through the green and abundant jungle without hiding our eternal love. We loved each other and sought ways to be together but the gods will never stand for a divine god loving a pitiful useless mortal. They would seek my destruction in life and a never-ending punishment for my soul in the underworld for such crime. Coatlicue loved me very much but breaking the ancient law carries severe consequences. She warns me that we had to stop, but even as a goddess love is a hard felling to reject. We couldn’t keep away from each other like a bee from a glorious orchid full of life. Eventually our love gave sprout, and her womb carried our joy and demise. We could no longer hide our florescent love from the gods.
The earth darkened with a nefarious mist that consumed everything it touched, draining the souls out of those unfortunate creatures that stand in its path. The mist was thick with an awful smell of sulfur like the torches in the temple. I looked into Coatlicue’s dark blue eyes now filled with despair. We both knew what was coming; the admonition of the gods was to strike upon us. The terror of not knowing how melted my soul. How could I protect my loved ones if I didn’t know what to expect? I was nothing more than a pitiful mortal, nothing more than a tan black-hair muscular Aztec. I could not let fear consume me, “I am a proud Aztec warrior and I will fight for those whom I love!” There can’t be any greater torture than losing my family. “I fear no god,” I yell at the top of my lungs. “I defy the will of the gods. “Strike me; I fear you not!”
The mist gave a roar that sent a chill down my spine but my motive kept me bold and ready for any challenge. In the distance I could see a gigantic serpent-like shadow swift through the intoxicating dark mist. I picked up my spear, sword, and shield and walked towards the mist with my heart racing, my body chilled with the fear in the air and my guts twist. I stood in front of the mist one corn field away as I saw everything die. I demanded the gods to show their pitiful selves to me, “Stop hiding like cowards show honor.”
Straight ahead I saw the shadow take a human-like form as it approached. It grew, and before me stood a titan of a man with a dark jade and gold plated armor with a majestic crown piece of a jaguar that seem bathed in gold. With a death serious expression in its face, his eyes were red like the flames of hell. He gave me a snare and said to me “Foolish mortal, you dare defy the will of the gods? Who do you think you are?” “I am Nauj a warrior full of hope and defender of my family,” I reply. “I fear you not god” I said. He laughed “I am the divine Quetzalcoatl, creator and destroyer of the world. You shall have no rest upon your soul if you defy my will.” I grunted in disgust and took my stand. He stood still studying me for a minute and finally spoke “There’s no need for a god to stain his hands with tainted blood of a useless mortal. I proposed to you a pact you. You will vow alliance to me and give up the life you made with Coatlicue and I shall spare you all.” I roared at him, “Never!”
He then stood still with a grip in his sword and said, “Then strike me fool and meet your end.” I rushed with my spear and shield at hand, I got a solid hit but when I looked at the end of the spear, it had not pierced. He grabbed the end of my spear and lifted me up 15 elbows and crushed me to the ground. The spear stood broken beside me. I felt the wind breaking and saw his mighty sword coming down to me. I quickly raised my shield and saw how it crumbled to his might landing his hit in my left shoulder. I screamed to the heavens as my arm exploded with blood and a burning pain. He kicked me, sending me flying ten elbows back. My body tumbles in the cold dead earth. I was only stopped by the granite wall of the central temple of the city the major adoration temple of Quetzalcoatl.
As my body lost strength, I saw the constant image of my love with my legacy appear to me and, the world started to darken. Suddenly I heard the voice of my precious Coatlicue say to me “Get up, don’t die. Stand and fight!” Now the sky was in pain crying to the destruction of the earth. I stood up tumbling to my feet and released my sword as I summoned what was left of my strength and rushed fearlessly toward the god. I managed to take him down with a blow that took all my life force away and put my sword to his trout while I tried to recover my breath. His eyes glowed red and yellow mist came out them as he said “Mortal, I shall show you not to temper with the gods!” With a massive roar he transformed into a monstrous Jade wing snake, he swirled himself out from below me and knocked me down with a strike of its tail. I struggled to get on my feet. The serpents strike me with a head-butt through the temple’s wall, falling to the caverns below. I fell into the water with the beast razors taking a shred of my already bleeding shoulder. I force myself through the pain trying to reach shore.
The beast head open the water and roared with a vengeance; my end was imminent because I could no longer move. I closed my eyes and stood my fate. I waited for the impact but instead an incandescent light blinded my mortal eyes. Before me my love collapsed into a divide light as she was torn apart by the jaws of destruction. The sacrifices of her godly blood send back all the repugnant curses Queztzalcoatl fury brought. When the light seemed to dim she was gone and the earth opened its mighty mouth and dragged Quetzalcoatl to the confinements of the earth. I was completely alone. As I ceased to exist, waiting for my eternal rest to join my love ones, peace finally came.
Something was wrong. My pain ceased and my shoulder started to heal, scarring and creating a symbol of a moon and earth. I asked why I can’t join my love one. A voice of many spoke to me from the heavens, “Though her sacrifice was just and gave life again to the earth, you must now forever protect her as she is earth itself now. You’re doomed to walk the earth and wait for the return of the wrath of Quetzalcoatl. “Warrior no one defies the will of the gods and no one goes unpunished for their sins.”
The air was cold and burned my soaked body as I crawled out of the dark green water. The murky mud was difficult to grip as I pulled myself out, my left arm screaming in torment staining the mud vivid red. I heard the water ripping apart like a piece of paper; the divine terror roared with anger that quaked the earth. I took a glance back and the yellow eyes glowed with thirst for blood as the roar of the monstrous beast showed its razor sharp teeth three times the size of the fangs of a jaguar. The magnificent creature stood 50 elbows high and as wide as the biggest of bears with a divine, incandescent build of a body with precious jade stones outlined with gold. The divine terror of the beast compels me to move, leaving myself vulnerable to an instant death and would I ever see my love again race through my mind.
She was the most beautiful woman my eyes ever had the grace of seeing her snowy skin and the glow of her silvery hair reflected the light of nature into her dark blue Eden eyes like the sun does in the purest of lakes. She was a goddess walking with men, and indeed she was the creation herself, the goddess Coatlicue. She graces us with her presence, to have her so close like a nurturing mother. I knew my feelings were wrong but I couldn’t help falling in love with her. She stayed in my mind for days, tempting my sinful love.
From time to time I felt like the dreams were real, eventually trying to link with me, a respond to my calling. We converse and walk through the green and abundant jungle without hiding our eternal love. We loved each other and sought ways to be together but the gods will never stand for a divine god loving a pitiful useless mortal. They would seek my destruction in life and a never-ending punishment for my soul in the underworld for such crime. Coatlicue loved me very much but breaking the ancient law carries severe consequences. She warns me that we had to stop, but even as a goddess love is a hard felling to reject. We couldn’t keep away from each other like a bee from a glorious orchid full of life. Eventually our love gave sprout, and her womb carried our joy and demise. We could no longer hide our florescent love from the gods.
The earth darkened with a nefarious mist that consumed everything it touched, draining the souls out of those unfortunate creatures that stand in its path. The mist was thick with an awful smell of sulfur like the torches in the temple. I looked into Coatlicue’s dark blue eyes now filled with despair. We both knew what was coming; the admonition of the gods was to strike upon us. The terror of not knowing how melted my soul. How could I protect my loved ones if I didn’t know what to expect? I was nothing more than a pitiful mortal, nothing more than a tan black-hair muscular Aztec. I could not let fear consume me, “I am a proud Aztec warrior and I will fight for those whom I love!” There can’t be any greater torture than losing my family. “I fear no god,” I yell at the top of my lungs. “I defy the will of the gods. “Strike me; I fear you not!”
The mist gave a roar that sent a chill down my spine but my motive kept me bold and ready for any challenge. In the distance I could see a gigantic serpent-like shadow swift through the intoxicating dark mist. I picked up my spear, sword, and shield and walked towards the mist with my heart racing, my body chilled with the fear in the air and my guts twist. I stood in front of the mist one corn field away as I saw everything die. I demanded the gods to show their pitiful selves to me, “Stop hiding like cowards show honor.”
Straight ahead I saw the shadow take a human-like form as it approached. It grew, and before me stood a titan of a man with a dark jade and gold plated armor with a majestic crown piece of a jaguar that seem bathed in gold. With a death serious expression in its face, his eyes were red like the flames of hell. He gave me a snare and said to me “Foolish mortal, you dare defy the will of the gods? Who do you think you are?” “I am Nauj a warrior full of hope and defender of my family,” I reply. “I fear you not god” I said. He laughed “I am the divine Quetzalcoatl, creator and destroyer of the world. You shall have no rest upon your soul if you defy my will.” I grunted in disgust and took my stand. He stood still studying me for a minute and finally spoke “There’s no need for a god to stain his hands with tainted blood of a useless mortal. I proposed to you a pact you. You will vow alliance to me and give up the life you made with Coatlicue and I shall spare you all.” I roared at him, “Never!”
He then stood still with a grip in his sword and said, “Then strike me fool and meet your end.” I rushed with my spear and shield at hand, I got a solid hit but when I looked at the end of the spear, it had not pierced. He grabbed the end of my spear and lifted me up 15 elbows and crushed me to the ground. The spear stood broken beside me. I felt the wind breaking and saw his mighty sword coming down to me. I quickly raised my shield and saw how it crumbled to his might landing his hit in my left shoulder. I screamed to the heavens as my arm exploded with blood and a burning pain. He kicked me, sending me flying ten elbows back. My body tumbles in the cold dead earth. I was only stopped by the granite wall of the central temple of the city the major adoration temple of Quetzalcoatl.
As my body lost strength, I saw the constant image of my love with my legacy appear to me and, the world started to darken. Suddenly I heard the voice of my precious Coatlicue say to me “Get up, don’t die. Stand and fight!” Now the sky was in pain crying to the destruction of the earth. I stood up tumbling to my feet and released my sword as I summoned what was left of my strength and rushed fearlessly toward the god. I managed to take him down with a blow that took all my life force away and put my sword to his trout while I tried to recover my breath. His eyes glowed red and yellow mist came out them as he said “Mortal, I shall show you not to temper with the gods!” With a massive roar he transformed into a monstrous Jade wing snake, he swirled himself out from below me and knocked me down with a strike of its tail. I struggled to get on my feet. The serpents strike me with a head-butt through the temple’s wall, falling to the caverns below. I fell into the water with the beast razors taking a shred of my already bleeding shoulder. I force myself through the pain trying to reach shore.
The beast head open the water and roared with a vengeance; my end was imminent because I could no longer move. I closed my eyes and stood my fate. I waited for the impact but instead an incandescent light blinded my mortal eyes. Before me my love collapsed into a divide light as she was torn apart by the jaws of destruction. The sacrifices of her godly blood send back all the repugnant curses Queztzalcoatl fury brought. When the light seemed to dim she was gone and the earth opened its mighty mouth and dragged Quetzalcoatl to the confinements of the earth. I was completely alone. As I ceased to exist, waiting for my eternal rest to join my love ones, peace finally came.
Something was wrong. My pain ceased and my shoulder started to heal, scarring and creating a symbol of a moon and earth. I asked why I can’t join my love one. A voice of many spoke to me from the heavens, “Though her sacrifice was just and gave life again to the earth, you must now forever protect her as she is earth itself now. You’re doomed to walk the earth and wait for the return of the wrath of Quetzalcoatl. “Warrior no one defies the will of the gods and no one goes unpunished for their sins.”
The Two-Faced Virgencita Candle
by A. P. Olivas, 2010
Esmeralda
It seems like the apartment on the corner changes owner every month. A few months ago, a crazy bruja with five whiny cats circulated the place. Weeks later, a traveling disco DJ occupied the small apartment with a different girl every weekend. Now the latest resident, a hard-faced man in a faded black shirt, has shown up with a red pickup truck riddled with slumped boxes. He shuffles in a pile of blue jumpsuits with oil stains too difficult to Shout out, a yellowed twin mattress, and a small TV that probably needs a digital converter box.
I close the eyelet curtains and continue getting ready for my second shift at my third part-time job, the one I had to scrounge for after my boyfriend of three years moved out. I’m not very religious, but every time I go to sleep since our breakup, I pray to God or La Virgencita, and frankly to any entity who’s willing to listen. I even got one of those long green candles encased in protective glass with the Virgin Mary stamped to it on two sides, which I always have trouble placing on the mantelpiece that floats above my fake fireplace. I don’t want to jinx anything and face one of the Lupes against the brick wall, so they always end up facing side-to-side, one watching me enter the apartment and the other watching me enter my empty bedroom.
My next-door neighbor, Amelia, gave me the candle when she heard me sobbing through the paper-thin walls a few weeks ago. She said to pray often. She said it would bring me what I wanted most, which was Ruben, and I believed her.
The crying episodes became less frequent, but I was still unbelievably miserable. If it weren’t for Amelia, I wouldn’t know who else to turn to. My girlfriends were sick of hearing about Ruben. My family hated him from the start and I was tired of hearing my mother say, “Ves? Te lo dije.”
I face the full-length mirror and pleat my apron down, put my dark hair in a messy ponytail, and apply a coat of black mascara to bring out my brown eyes. Past my reflection, I notice the candle glistening in the dim light beaming through the living-room window. I kiss the Virgencitas with my fingers and leave my apartment. I wave cordially at the newcomer and also at Amelia, whose petite frame occupies her front window every day and her porch every evening. I knew she would have the inside scoop about the new tenant in the corner apartment because her place was the only one adjacent to it.
Amelia
The hooligan takes his time rifling through his dirty Mazda making sure he has all his trinkets inside a cardboard box before the sun finishes setting. He wipes his brow with the back of his arm, and I’m surprised it doesn’t leave a streak because of all the tattoos scattered across his dark skin. No doubt he just finished packing his last knife before looking up at me, and I couldn’t turn away. He smiles wily as he locks the truck even though it is bereft of its value.
He comes right up to me and I freeze in my plastic lawn chair.
“Buenas noches. How are you?”
I don’t respond.
“My name is Braulio. Obviously I’m your new neighbor,” he says half chuckling.
“Amelia,” I extend my arm timidly. “Say, what brings you here?”
“Oh. Change of scenery. I had to get away.”
“Mmmm que la,” I mutter inaudibly. “Otro cholo corriente. Do you have any kids?”
“Yes. Two kids, four and two years old,” he signs with his enormous fingers. “God, I miss them.”
“Yea, I bet you do. And what do you do for a living?”
“I’m a mechanic.” Funny, I thought. With a get-up like that? I feign an incredibly loud yawn and forget to cover my mouth.
“Well, you have yourself a nice night, ma’am,” he says taking the hint.
“Thanks. I will,” and he shuts his door quietly behind him.
Great, this is just what I need. I hobble inside to my sanctuary and promptly face the porcelain face of the Virgin Mary. I pray.
Esmeralda
Sunday is my only day off from all the chaos of substitute teaching and two restaurant jobs, all of which are unreliable forms of income. If I had Ruben, I wouldn’t have to work as hard to keep my own place and pay off my credit card bills and outstanding student loans. I step outside to get the newspaper that always lands on my porch even though I do not subscribe. Amelia told me not to bother looking for the rightful owner of the subscription since he or she hadn’t cared enough to fix the problem. It seemed logical, and I’ve gone along with it mostly for the coupons.
Right when I reach down, I hear Amelia’s door close. “Hi Esme. I have the info,” she giggles. I’m sure she was quite the gossip queen at her high school 40 years ago. I’m about to throw the paper into my living room and she says, “Bring that with you.”
I oblige and scurry to her porch decorated with mismatched pottery oozing with plant life. I kiss her wrinkled cheek as I hug her tiny body dressed in Sunday best and step inside her apartment. Inside is like a miniature church; a wide exhibit of Catholic saints, a huge crucifix, and an elaborate Virgen de Guadalupe shrine with lights and water fountains welcoming me. I start to imagine what heaven must be like. I’ve seen this fantastic array before, but never in the same arrangement. The only thing that remains the consistent is how the sad eyes of the figurines always pierce clear through my soul. Amelia snaps me out of my trance with swift motions toward her tiny two-seater kitchen table while she peeks out the beige mini blinds.
“His name is Braulio, a no-good father of two who left his wife to pursue a life of crime. He says he’s a mechanic, but I’m sure that’s the cover up for his real job, stealing and selling cars. Just look at what he’s driving today,” she says turning toward me.
I peer over and spot a little white Honda Civic. “You mean, he stole that?”
“Yes. When he first moved in, he had that little piece of crap truck. The next day he shows up in an old Cadillac that he worked on for two days straight. And yesterday, all of a sudden, he shows up in that immaculate car!”
“Maybe he borrowed the truck to move his things—“
“Psshhhh. You really think he ‘borrowed’ it when he has all these other cars?” she says with air quotes.
“You did say he’s a mechanic. Maybe he was fixing the Cadillac.”
“Oh since when do you hear about a mechanic taking your car home, unless he’s off joy-riding in it? If he’s not selling cars, you know he’s at least enjoying them and picking up wild women. That’s probably why his wife left him.”
“He had a wife? Wow, how do you get so much information out of people?”
“Call it a gift. Just be careful around him. No le tengas confianza. He might offer to fix your car, but next thing you know he’s using it to impregnate another senseless hussy with a bastard child to live off of welfare.”
A pang of hurt hits me close. Ruben had left me to be closer to his kids, whose mom moved them away in an attempt to control him. Unfortunately, her plan worked and he was out of my life. Instead of fighting her in more court battles, he would rather just follow his kids, and how could I compete with them?
I excuse myself quickly and wave to my Virgencitas when I come home. I kneel a prayer and run straight for my bed.
Amelia
The loser revs up a red Chevy Malibu in front of his porch. I should call the cops and turn him in, but I want to see what else he does. Maybe he sells drugs on the side. Maybe he fixes cars for cartel members. Maybe he stashes illegal substances in those ratty boxes. It is my duty to find out.
Braulio rubs his bald head with his hand and proceeds to click away at the engine. I take Esmeralda’s newspaper out to my porch and pretend to read. “Buenos días,” he greets me, wiping his oily hands on an old sock-turned rag. “How are you?”
“I’m well,” I say. “Would you like anything? If you do, don’t hesitate to ask. We’re neighbors you know.”
“No, thank you,” he says smugly. “I don’t want to bother you.”
“Too late,” I say to myself. “You bring your work home?”
“Yes. Sometimes. My clients trust me more than anyone else and I want to make sure I do the job right. The shop is going through some changes right now and it forces us to close earlier than I would like. These people need their cars sooner than the next day.”
“Isn’t that against company policy?” I say accusingly.
“Not when you own the company and your customers sign release forms.”
“Hmmmph,” I say crackling my newspaper shut. I shove back into my apartment where at least I know I’m safe. I pray to the Virgencita to please keep me safe from the criminals and to take away this horrid man that has blemished the apartment complex. “I hate him,” I conclude. “Amen.”
Esmeralda
Working three jobs has really started to take its toll, but I need the money so I can get out of this place. I picked up a double shift at a Mexican restaurant and I can’t find my stupid black apron. Finally, I opt for the white one hanging behind the bathroom door and rush out without even acknowledging my Virgencitas.
Inside my car I get all the essentials set up: make-up bag, cell phone, a banana, in other words, a car accident waiting to happen. I turn the ignition and it doesn’t start. It just whirrs and clicks. I try again. Click-click-click. And again. Click-click. Again. Click. “Damn! Not today!” I hit the steering wheel and inadvertently honk. Amelia’s eyes watch me intently through the thin slits, but she does not budge. I didn’t expect her to know what was wrong with my car, but a little sympathy wouldn’t hurt.
Just then Braulio comes running out. He smiles warmly to me while I hit the power locks. “Need some help?” he asks politely.
“No,” I answer weakly. “No, I think I got it.”
Puzzled, he resumes, “Oh, well turn the ignition.”
Please God, help me get out of this mess. I turn the key. Click-click-click.
“Must be the alternator,” he says rubbing his budding hair follicles. “Here, let me give you a hand. Pop the hood” he motions with his arm.
Reluctantly, I reach down and grab the hood release. He’s off to work like a dog at the racetrack. Seconds later, his face appears at my window, “Were you in a hurry? It might take a while. I don’t know if it’s the alternator or the fuel pump. I can take you where you need to go and look at it while you’re gone.”
I’m not sure what to do. I glance up toward Amelia’s usual perch and the blinds are closed. Did she see that he was helping me? Desperate, I acquiesce. “Yes, I need to get to work.”
He leads me to his car of the week, a green Neon with a car seat in the back, and opens the door for me. I climb in while he makes his way around. “Where to?”
“La Malinche.”
“Ah. No way, you work there? The food there is awesome. It’s greasy on the outside but so tender and delicious in the inside.”
I nod. What would he expect in return? Would he want to use my car? Would he sabotage my car and offer to fix that for a fee? I immediately slouch to the inner depths of the car seat.
Braulio
This girl seems to have melted into my passenger seat. I try to make conversation with a side of her pale face.
“So how long have you been working there?”
“I just started there a few weeks ago.”
“Oh. You’re still a rookie. Rookies can’t be late.”
“Nope,” she responds shyly.
I smile as I adjust the rearview mirror. “It’s hard to start something new, but it’s inevitable,” I say enunciating my syllables carefully. “You just have to have faith that everything will turn out alright in the end.”
“Faith,” she whispers.
“Yeah. Take me for example. My girl’s mother just died and it really brought us down emotionally and financially. We had to help cover the funeral costs so we sold our home. Now she’s staying with her family in Durango in order to take care of some family business while I stay at the apartment complex in order to save some money and to remain close to my business,” I say.
“Your business?”
“Yes. My dad used to own the auto shop down the street, but I just recently took over it. It’s going through some renovations while we expand it, which is why I sometimes take some of my work home with me.”
“Oh,” she mouths with her freshly painted lips.
“It’s tough. I miss my wife and kids, but it’s for the better. You just have to have faith,” I say pulling out my tiny gold chain with the Virgencita. I kiss it and let it fall back onto its place on my chest.
“Do you pray?”
“Of course,” I respond edging closer to the driveway of the restaurant. “I am thankful for what and who I have.” I park by the side entrance. “Do you need me to pick you up?”
“No. That’s all right. I can ask for a ride home,” she says handing me her car keys. She finally smiles through her big brown eyes, “Thanks for helping me find my way here.”
“You’re welcome.”
Esmeralda
Jennifer, my noisy co-worker, drops me off at my apartment later that night. As I walk toward my door, I look at Amelia’s glowing window. The blinds are drawn and her lawn chair is gone. I shrug and head into my apartment. The Virgencita is staring at me as I move across the room. I glance back and the other face is watching me too. I grab the glass container and look inside. The wick and wax are waning into nothing, but I have to have faith.
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