by Paula Guran
Abuela Concepcion nodded. “I know. That is your nature. A pity you weren’t a boy: more could be done for you. But it doesn’t matter—you have to follow where your curiosity leads. Your mother made it clear to me how it is with you.”
“Yes,” said Refugio. “And what can I do?”
“Mayor Arrugaverde isn’t likely to pay any attention to people like us—we have nothing he wants, and we none of his friends. He never has extended himself on our behalf in the past. He is not interested in the poor except when he needs someone to vote for him, and then it is only a sham fellowship he offers. The richest man I know is the mechanic, Justino Caida, and he has six children of his own to provide for.” She went to rinse her hands and took down two white stoneware bowls. “Get the spoons, chica.”
Refugio set her bowl aside and followed her grandmother to the pump. She dried her hands on the hanging scrap of towel, then took two steps across the kitchen and opened the drawer in the worn cabinet, removing two soup spoons, a knife, and two frayed napkins. She went into the alcove that served as a dining room and put on the small round table the spoons and napkins flanking the bowls, and laid the knife on the smaller clay trivet. “I’ll fetch the butter,” she said, and went back into the kitchen to the cooler. Taking out the small tub of butter, she stood aside to permit Abuela Concepcion to carry the soup-pot to the table.
“The tortillas will be quite warm by now,” said Abuela Concepcion as she set the pot down on the larger trivet. She returned to the kitchen to retrieve them.
When Abuela Concepcion returned, she and Refugio sat down and bowed their heads for the short prayer of thanks: “God, Who gives this food, let it nourish my body as Your Word nourishes my soul. Amen.”
After echoing the Amen, Refugio waited for Abuela Concepcion to ladle out her soup. The steam rising from it was delicious, and Refugio licked her lips in anticipation; her long morning of working with food had made her hunger sharper, and she anticipated eating with appreciation. “This is wonderful, Abuela.”
“It’s good of you to say so, chica,” said Abuela Concepcion, pleased that Refugio had such good manners, for they both knew the meal was very simple. “Take a tortilla.”
Refugio did as she was told, cutting a few curls of butter from the tub and spreading them carefully on the golden cornmeal round. She rolled this up and took hold of it as if it were an edible cigar. “Jorje will have more goat for sale soon.”
“And after this Dia de los Muertos, we’ll have money enough to afford some,” said Abuela Concepcion.
“It is all to the good,” said Refugio, who knew she was expected to speak only of pleasant things at table.
Abuela Concepcion tasted her soup and let the spoon drop back in the bowl. “Too hot,” she muttered, and opened the small bottle of mineral water that was her usual drink at lunch. “I will set up my booth first thing in the morning, while you attend Mass. Then you may keep the booth while I go to the second Mass.”
“Of course, Abuela,” said Refugio, and bit into the roll of her tortilla.
“You’re not to bargain with anyone, or to promise what you cannot deliver. Tell them you cannot do it because I order it so,” said Abuela Concepcion. “Everyone in town knows me. They will believe I would tell you such things.”
“Si, Abuela.” Another bite of tortilla and Refugio dared to test her soup. It was very hot but not scalding.
“Be pleasant to everyone, especially the important families. They always buy skulls from me, and if they do, everyone else does, too.” She took a tortilla and rolled it up without the luxury of butter; she dunked one end into her soup, then chewed thoughtfully on it for a short while. “I must find some way to get a patron for you, chica. You cannot go about the world nothing more than a peasant when you have it in you to be much more.” She stared toward the small window where a wedge of brilliant light made the little alcove glow.
Refugio knew better than to interrupt her grandmother’s thoughts. She continued to eat her meal, saving the chocolate for last. Finally, as she buttered a second tortilla, she looked toward the front door on the far side of the scrupulously clean main room. “The special skulls—who is coming for them?”
“Dominga Caida. She should be here after siesta, unless she sends one of her children—she’s almost ready to deliver, and it isn’t easy for her to get about just now.” Abuela Concepcion frowned. “If only she would introduce me to her uncle in Cedro Cima, something might be arranged. He has money, and to spare.”
“Why would she do that?” Refugio asked with an innocence she did not feel. “Doesn’t she have children of her own to look out for?”
“She does, and two of them are already promised work on their great-uncle’s land. He has orchards and a mine and he raises cattle, pigs, and goats.” Her brow darkened as she continued to think. “His sons have been sent to university.”
“That doesn’t mean he’ll send me,” said Refugio, suddenly struck with a new plan. “We could do as they do in the north—dress up in demons’ clothing and demand help or promise to blow up their houses. Viuda Estrella says that much can be done on this night.” She grinned as she weighed the options this could give. “I could walk to Cedro Cima this afternoon and I could waylay Dominga Caida’s uncle after sundown.”
Abuela Concepcion looked outraged. “Refugio! Never even think such evil thoughts. That is an affront to our faith! You ought to go to the church and confess at once! To have such thoughts on the Eve of All Saints.”
But Refugio was too enchanted by the idea to accept the reprimand. “He wouldn’t know it was me. I’d talk in a big, deep voice, and I wouldn’t let him see me very well. I’d tell him I came from Los Angeles and I expected him to do as men in Los Estados Unidos do, taking care of those who are intelligent and making them rich and powerful, just as was done for Carlos Istmo—he has three restaurants in Texas. The same could be done for me.” Her grin widened. “I’d say he had to do this or else!”
“You mustn’t. That is worse than going to the witch-woman—which I forbid you to do! Promise me you won’t do anything so foolish. Promise me you won’t even think about it again.” Abuela Concepcion was truly worried, for she knew her granddaughter had great determination and a recklessness that could easily mean trouble for a girl.
Refugio could see she had gone too far. “I wouldn’t do it, Abuelita, not really. But it is fun to wonder what might happen.”
“No, it isn’t. It’s wrong and it could bring you into great trouble.” Abuela Concepcion was still very much worried about Refugio. “What sort of satisfaction could you take in anything so . . . so criminal?”
“I said I wouldn’t do it,” Refugio reminded her, beginning to pout. “Do you doubt me, when I promise you?”
“I worry about you. I worry you’ll let your disappointments drag you into trouble,” said Abuela Concepcion.
“You have no reason to worry,” said Refugio, relieved that this, at least, was the truth. “I will not do anything that will harm me.”
“Very well; I will trust you,” said Abuela Concepcion. “You and I will forget you have ever said such things. I know you are not an evil child. You will stay away from Viuda Estrella, and abandon such dreadful thoughts as you’ve told me today. I will take this as the power of the saints, who are very near now. So, in the presence of the saints, you swear that you will being no disgrace upon our family. Do this for me, and for the memory of your Mama.” She tried to resume eating but found her own cooking now to lack savor, and she soon found an excuse to stop eating. “You have the rest of your meal. I have to get back to making skulls.”
Knowing she was still in disfavor, Refugio only nodded and added some grated cheese to her soup. There were some things she had learned from Viuda Estrella already, and she could use them without her grandmother knowing. There had to be a way to go to Viuda Estrella without offending either the Padre or her grandmother. She made plans as she ate. When she had finished, she took her bowl and utensils to the s
ink, worked the pump, and washed them, then added the last of her grandmother’s soup to the slop-bucket and cleaned her bowl and utensils as well. Only when she had dried the flatware and bowls and put them away did she speak again. “I’m sorry, Abuela.”
“Be sure you are,” said Abuela Concepcion as she worked on filling another tray of molds. “I don’t want you to put yourself in danger.”
“You can’t blame me for wanting to do something to make things better for us,” she said in a small voice.
“No. But if you do something wrong it will make things much worse,” said Abuela Concepcion. “Isn’t having your father in prison enough?”
This stung Refugio, and she blinked back sudden tears. “I won’t go to prison, Abuela. I wouldn’t do that.”
“Well, pranks like the ones you proposed can get you there,” said Abuela Concepcion. “Come on, chica. We have many more skulls to make.” This was a peace offering, and Refugio accepted it as such.
“I will,” she said with relief, and went to resume whipping sugar into egg-whites.
“I know you say these things to cheer me,” Abuela Concepcion said a bit later. “But, chica, they are not easily understood by most people, who may think you are serious if you talk of these things where you can be overheard.”
“I won’t blather,” Refugio promised, all the while trying to think of some means to gain the advantage she sought in a way that would not upset her grandmother.
“No, I don’t suppose you will,” said Abuela Concepcion, her face long and serious as she interrupted her labor on the skulls. “I will need more licorice.”
“There is still a lot in the pantry,” said Refugio. “Do you want me to fetch it?”
“No. I’ll attend to it myself,” said Abuela Concepcion, and set her immediate work aside to retrieve a handful of licorice strings for making eyes and lost teeth for the skulls.
“They say that if you have some hair from a rich man, and you write his name on a skull and then he eats it, his treasure will become yours,” said Refugio as she watched her grandmother ornament the sugar skulls.
“That’s nonsense. Only old people believe such things,” scoffed Abuela Concepcion. “Old people and Viuda Estrella.”
“You don’t believe it,” said Refugio.
“No, and for good reason,” said Abuela Concepcion. “I don’t want to hear any more nonsense out of you, chica. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.”
“Oh, very well,” said Refugio, but her mind continued to play with all the various stories she had heard about ways to draw good fortune to you on these special feast days. There had to be something she could do to end the hard life she and her grandmother had been living. Perhaps, she thought, I will make a skull of my own, and make sure it has everything to bring me money so I can continue to study. That idea thrilled her, and she let her imagination wander while she prepared more sugared egg-whites. Suddenly she dared to speak. “Abuela, tell me—would you permit me to make a skull of my own? I’d do it when we’ve finished for the day, and I wouldn’t make a very big one, not a little one, but the teacup size. I just thought it would be nice, for Mama. So I can remember all that she wanted for me.” She felt a little uncomfortable with this little lie, but told herself it wasn’t so far from the truth. Her mother wanted her to be educated, so making a skull to do a fortune spell wasn’t exactly a lie.
Abuela Concepcion stopped her work and stood quite still for a short while, then said, “If that would please you, then keep out enough mix to make a skull. Not the very smallest, but not the largest, either.”
“Thank you, Abuelita,” said Refugio with her most winsome smile. It would be a fine thing to cast such a spell as the skull would contain.
“But you must continue to work now. There’s still more to finish, and time is getting short.” She sounded almost gruff, as if the reminder of her daughter had taken her by surprise and left her feeling bereft.
“I will,” said Refugio, and resumed her labors with renewed energy as she thought of how she would prepare the skull for its magical purpose.
“Very good,” said Abuela Concepcion, preparing more molds. “You are being a great help to me today, chica. I want you to know how much that pleases me.”
“You’re good to me, Abuela,” said Refugio. Her grandmother blinked, and Refugio could see tears on her lashes. “Please don’t be sad.”
“I can’t help it, Refugio. I don’t want to see your life go to waste as so many others have done. Your father has been reckless, and some of it is in your nature as well. You should learn prudence, chica. It is one thing if children are foolish or have no capacity for study, but you are bright and you are happiest when you’re reading, and that is a good thing. I should be able to do something for you. If your father hadn’t got himself on the wrong side of the regional government, something might be done. But with him in jail and no money, and that awful Viuda Estrella hoping to bring you into her—” She blotted her tears with the hem of her apron.
“I’ll think of something,” said Refugio, making it a promise.
“I hope you will, for I haven’t been able to,” Abuela Concecpion admitted as if confessing to a great sin. She shoved Refugio away gently and then wiped her hands before going back to her work. “When you make your skull, ask God for help.”
“I’ll do what I can,” said Refugio, and went back to the tasks her grandmother had imposed upon her.
By the time all the molds had been filled and the skulls were drying on the narrow racks, it was dark. Dominga Caida had come and gone, taking the special skulls away with her, and leaving behind full payment with an extra peso for having the skulls ready on time. Now, as dusk thickened, there were four lights in Abuela Concepcion’s house, one in each room—bare, glaring bulbs set in the ceiling, lending their brightness to the encroaching night. Abuela Concepcion finished washing up all the bowls but one.
“Shall I make my skull now?” Refugio asked as she looked at the last small egg waiting on the table. At least she hadn’t had to go out to try to get another.
“Yes, if you still want to,” said Abuela Concepcion. She didn’t want Refugio to know how tired she was or how much her feet hurt, so she declared, “I’m going to listen to the radio, to find out if there’s any news.”
“Oh, all right,” said Refugio, paying less than half her attention to what her grandmother said. She was thinking about her skull, and what she would do with it. Working with great care, she took the second-largest mold and began to spread the egg-white-and-sugar mixture on it, pausing now and again to write down what she wanted from the spirits that hovered over Santa Luz. Whispering her invocation, she worked with great care, remembering how important it was to show respect for the spirits whose aid she sought. It would be very late when the skull was ready, but Viuda Estrella said that tonight of all nights she would be awake almost until dawn. Refugio was careful to follow the instructions the witch-woman had given her to the letter, for if she botched any part of it, the results could be calamitous. “This is for money so I can study,” she said, pressing a tiny round of gold-colored foil from a candy-wrapper. “This is for protection.” If Abuela Concepcion knew what Refugio was doing, she would forbid it and would destroy the skull. She looked about as if expecting to see her grandmother watching her from the doorway, but no, Refugio was alone. When she had finished filling the mold, she set it on the windowsill, facing the east, where the moon would shortly rise. Viuda Estrella had been most specific about that, and Refugio complied. “There,” she said to the skull that had her own name on it. “Let the moon see you.”
By the time Abuela Concepcion turned off the radio and made her way to bed, Refugio had already donned her good white-cotton dress with the lace edging, just as Viuda Estrella had told her to do. She had a flashlight and a sack for the skull she had made, and she loaded it carefully before letting herself out through the narrow door at the back of the pantry. Thinking of how much her life was about to change, she almost skipp
ed with excitement. She kept the flashlight off until she was on the road outside of Santa Luz, for she didn’t want anyone to see her as she made her way toward the ancient, tumbled stones and the house where Viuda Estrella was waiting to work her most potent conjuration on Refugio’s sugar skull on this most magical of all nights. Her future would be so much better than Abuela Concepcion feared. Viuda Estrella would teach her all she needed to know to make her way in the world, to be a woman of importance. Then she would go to the school in Guanajuanto, and after that, she would venture out into the wider world, with the education her grandmother wanted for her and the strength of Viuda Estrella to give her power.
As she walked Refugio sang to the skull wrapped in her handkerchief, telling it of all she wanted, confident that the saints and her mother heard her. The beam of the flashlight was a cone of brightness in the dark, lighting her way. She felt deeply happy, and for the first time in her life, she believed she would be able to achieve all she wanted, for the skull and her industry, combined with the might of the saints that could be invoked on this night, would remove all obstacles before her. There was so much to look forward to, she thought, and took the path to Viuda Estrella’s house.
ON A DARK OCTOBER
Joe R. Lansdale
According to Joe Lansdale, “On a Dark October” was originally written for Twilight Zone magazine, but editor T.E.D. Klein felt it was too dark. And even though David Silva published it in his magazine, The Horror Show, he had similar reservations as well. Considering the graphic horror Lansdale was known for at the time, the author was somewhat surprised by their concern. Seems the problem was with the story’s social commentary. Real horrors make folks nervous. The history of Halloween in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries is a reflection American culture—and the reflection is often ugly. Lansdale serves up a story that evokes uncomfortable “reality,” and adds a dollop of the supernatural to make sure you squirm.