When The Shadows Began To Dance

by Yamaya Cruz

  I went to the neighboring houses and started banging my fist on doors, smacking my balms against glass, begging and pleaded for someone to save me from Nico. He was coming after me and wanted to kill me. He was going to kill everyone who loved me and tried to protect me, until he got to me. I was frantic and determined not to stop, until someone came to my rescue. I ran across a patch of lawn.

  “Somebody help me! He’s trying to kill me!” I screamed. The houses on the block awakened, flickers of yellow lights emanated from the windows. Doors flung open and people in their pajamas rushed outside to stare at me.

  “She’s dead! He had her killed and now he’s after me!” I screamed.

  I looked into the crowd and thought that I caught a glimpse of Diablo. I tore my eyes away and locked my gaze on Blazen. No. Nico is here, how did he find me so quickly? Someone was pushing through the crowd; he stopped and stared at me. It was Fatboy; he had his pistol in his hand. He pointed it at me, and all I could think to do was to run. I turned around and ran, without looking back. I knew where I needed to go, somewhere where no one would ever think to find me.

  I caught wind of someone tailing me. They were gaining speed. I couldn’t let them catch me. I took a couple of missteps and did a right flank. I whirled around, with my arm stiff and wooden, my fist clenched and knuckles spiked like an iconic flail. It slammed into Blazen’s face with blunt force. I drew back and watched her as she swaggered, holding her nose, while doing a drunken man’s jig. I stared at my fist, amazed by its power. It was different now. It was about survival. I knew that if I wanted to live that I couldn’t be afraid anymore. I couldn’t be weak. I remembered all the shit that Blazen put me through. I continued to throw punches and kicks, with all the bad memories fueling my rage.

  “How’s your pretty little face now?” I grunted between kicks.

  There was a voice going off in my head. Nelly, stop this now! She’s had enough. I looked down at Blazen. She had her palm up, begging me to stop. I drew back. This is what he wants you to do. The voice continued. The power that I had over Blazen was an irresistible temptation. I walked backward, keeping her in full sight. A deep and dark part of me felt like I needed to finish the job. That if I went ahead and killed Blazen that maybe the emptiness, the pain, and the loneliness would go away. I began to massage my temples, trying to tune out the voices that were edging me to move forward. I could kill her, right here, right now, with my bare hands. I opened my eyes and looked over at Blazen.

  “Please!” she said, as she scrambled backwards. I looked at her and knew that she was too hurt to follow me.

  “Bitch!” I screamed as I ran over and spit in her face. I hated her. I hated Nico and all the fucking people in the world who ever caused me pain. I never did anything to anybody and these sick bastards got hard-ons by treating people like me, like shit. They deserved to die.

  They all deserved to die. I could hear footsteps off in the distance. I needed to run, and fast.

  I wiped my brow and headed down a lonely road. It was shrouded in darkness. I no longer had the luxury of street lamps or headlights. I had slowed down to a rhythmic trot. I felt the butterflies in my stomach as I approached the gates. Overgrown ferns were wrapped around the steel bars and angels made out of granite were perched on large pillars. I pushed it open and walked it inside. There was a formation of tombstones that were lined up on either side of me. In between them, they were pathways of green foliage. The grass was perennial rye. Cedar trees with needle like leaves shook their branches. They seemed to be guiding me forward.

  I walked past serpentine and gothic headstones, giant mausoleums and floor markers that had been overtaken by wild shrubs. I walked around the cemetery until a spotted a diminutive headstone with my mother’s name on it. I looked up at the sky. The moon was full. Thick clouds floated around it like sailboats. How long has it been since I have seen my mother?It had been four years. I had gone four long years without a mother’s love. I needed her, now more than ever, because I couldn’t do it alone. I felt like I needed to cry. But for some reason I couldn’t. I had done way too much of that already. My eyes were dry and my heart tried to process all the events that had taken place. Maria was dead. My momma was dead, my father was a bum, and my brother was nowhere to be found. I fell to my knees. The grass was wet and my body sunk into the wet soil.

  Everything looked so surreal. I had never been in a cemetery at night before. It was brimming with life. I heard the crickets chirp. The leaves rustled. And long shards of grass swayed back forth, moving with the waves of the wind, and the mist of the night.

  “Momma, please tell me what to do.” I pressed my palms into the soil. I felt like there was a pulse, almost like a heartbeat. I waited. I could only imagine what I looked like. My pants were blotched with stains. My hair was littered with leaves and my soul was tattered and torn, but I knew that I had to be strong. A family of birds flew over my head and rested on a nearby tree.

  “What? What does this mean?” I cried out confused.

  The birds twittered and danced around on twigs before they spread their wings and flapped away.

  A raindrop fell. It plopped down hard on my nose. I looked up and saw that dark and angry clouds were moving in. It began to rain. At first, it was just a light drizzle. Then the wind began to howl. The rain became slanted and landed on the ground and on my skin in heavy pellets. Thunder rumbled and shook the earth. Lightening exploded through the sky.

  “Momma what’s happening? What did I do?” I said.

  I looked around me. Rivulets of water started to stream down the pathways, forming huge puddles. I ran and looked for a dry space to find cover. I snuggled under a large mausoleum made of stone. I shivered, my feet were soggy, my hair was wet and plastered to my scalp, and my clothes felt like they were tapered to my skin. The moon had disappeared and the birds were long gone. It was cold and silent, the sound of death. Ironically, I wasn’t scared. I was actually in a cemetery in the middle of the night, in the pouring down rain, and I wasn’t scared. Something inside of me told me that I didn’t need to be. I never needed to be scared or feel alone ever again. I fell asleep in the cemetery. When I woke up the next morning, I looked up at the clear sky and knew exactly what I needed to do.

  I rushed to the nearest bus stop. I looked a mess, but I didn’t care. I paid and climbed on. In less than an hour, I was standing in front of an old brownstone building. I walked up and knocked on the door.

  “Oh thank goodness, you’re home. I need your help,” I said in a single breath.

  Chobo just stared at me. He didn’t say anything. Instead, he slowly opened the door and motioned for me to walk in. I was hoping for a much warmer welcome. Warily, I entered his foyer.

  People of all shapes, sizes, and colors where sitting or standing all over the place. Two wide-eyed toddlers whimpered and then nestled their heads into an oversized bosom. They were seated on the lap of an extra large woman, wearing a floral patterned gown. She kissed the top of both of their heads and sent me a cagey look.

  There were toy trucks, crayons, and portable game players that were scattered all over the floor, abandoned by the children. Now, they stood, shivering with fear, peering behind tall adult legs, or nuzzled up in a protective embrace. The television was on and airing a Spanish soap opera, but nobody was watching it. There was a man who was pent up against the wall and he had this weird look on his face, like he had swallowed something sour. I started to tremble as I experienced shock waves of panic. My worst fears were confirmed when I began to recognize some of the faces in the room. Fatboy was holding a handgun. Diablo was there, nudging a Swiss Army knife into the guy’s back, thus explaining the weird facial expression.

  I watched Chobo glide toward me. He looked like a larger than life body puppet on top of a stage float. His arms moved disjointedly, like strings were maneuvering them. His face was swollen and bruised and his bottom lip was quivering. I took two steps back right before Chobo was violently pushed down on the floo
r in front of me. Nico stood behind him, brandishing .50-caliber handgun.

  Nico looked down at him and then at me and smiled. “How did you know that I was here?” He was smiling menacingly.

  “And look, you brought something for me,” he said eyeing Maria’s purse.

  I made a piteous attempt to flee but Fatboy intercepted me. He ripped the purse out of my hands and threw it over to Nico. He fastened me in chokehold, and dug his knife into my lower back. Nico caught the purse with one hand, and then threw it over to the Diablo. He quickly dug out the money and the ring, stuffing them into his pockets and throwing the bag and the rest of the contents on the ground.

  “Negrita, usted es una chica mala.” The crew began to laugh as Nico eyed me seductively. Fatboy pulled me closer to him, his breath smelled like sewage. I felt his blubber rub against my back as he spooned me with his bite-size penis.

  “Hey Cabron, take it easy with that one. I got plans for her later,” Nico said. The boys roared from laughter.

  “Nico.” Chobo choked from his position on the ground. “Nico, don’t do this. These kids, they have a future, there is hope for them.”

  “You need to speak for yourself old man,” Diablo hollered from across the room. “From the looks of things, it looks like your future is fucked.” The laughter exploded throughout the room.

  Nico looked around the room, at me, at Chobo. He began to parade about waving his gun in the air.

  “It’s hard work doing the shit that I do. And I got people like this asshole over here trying to stop me,” he said pointing at Chobo.

  “You work with the shadows. You put people into psychological and spiritual slavery.” Chobo muttered from his place on the floor.

  “There you go again Chobo, putting all this crazy shit in people’s head. And I’m the one who supposed to be the brujo,” he said eyeing both Diablo and Fatboy. They both laughed obediently.

  “But you know something Chobo, you’re right. I steal people’s souls. I break them down into little bitty pieces, I put so much fear in them, that they can’t even fucking think for themselves. Why? Because they’re slaves to me. I got the fucking power,” he yelled while turning around in half circles.

  “Don’t you see my ass holding this gun, while your fat ass is squirming around on the ground?” Nico yelled.

  “You’re slaughtering the human mind,” Chobo cried shaking on the floor.

  “You want to keep people in a state of darkness so you can exploit them, deceive them and keep them poor and dependent on you,” he grunted through his teeth.

  “Ah, here we go, some more crazy stories.” He walked over to a very attractive woman who was hovering in her seat.

  “Do I make you feel bad?” He spat this, sprinkling spittle all over her face.

  He leaned in closer to her and looked her square in the eye. “Do I make you feel like you’re a piece of shit?” he asked.

  “No Chobo,” he said as he ripped his eyes away from the woman. “I don’t make her feel bad, because I give people power,” he said.

  “No, you instill them with fear, you make them repress their memories and their emotions and force them to do all the sick, wicked shit that you don’t have the balls to do,” Chobo said.

  “Shut the fuck up!” Nico yelled stomping over to him, waving his gun.

  “The shadows are nothing more than negative thoughts that need to be cleaned. But you let people carry them around, so they can rot inside of them like a dead corpse,” Chobo said.

  “That’s a bunch of bullshit!” he yelled.

  “You gain power, while the shadows dig deeper into people’s souls, until it reaches the very root and poisons their whole being,” Chobo yelled while struggling to sit up.

  “Diablo, shoot this motherfucker. I can’t listen to anymore of this shit,” Nico said walking over and handing him the gun.

  “Then you move on to the kids, brainwashing them, feeding off of their vulnerabilities and weakness. You create these vicious cycles that goes on from one generation to the next,” Chobo said with blood dripping from his mouth.

  “Don’t even try it, Chobo. I didn’t start this shit,” Nico shouted. “No, but you’re part of it.” Chobo sneered.

  “I’m tired of hearing you talk old man,” Diablo said as he raised his gun and pointed it at Chobo. I couldn’t watch. There was thirty seconds of silence. I opened my eyes to see Diablo lowering his gun.

  “That’s right son. Fear is a negative force that you must overcome. Nico has kept you in the clutches of fear, so you never grow, so you never evolve, so you can never escape the darkness that he wants to keep you in,” Chobo said.

  Nico rushed over and kicked Chobo violently in the stomach. Chobo coughed, spitting out more blood. “You don’t want to kill me, son. Those thoughts in your head are nothing but spirits. The good and bad are fighting inside of you. Don’t let the bad spirits win. Pray with me to Obatalá, he can clean you, he can save your soul.” Chobo continued.

  Diablo didn’t move. He just stared at Chobo, spellbound.

  “I can’t believe this shit,” Nico puffed while walking over to Diablo.

  “No seas maricón,” Nico said. He was inches away from his face. Diablo backed away, lowering the handgun. Nico was pissed. He smacked the butt of the revolver against his forehead and his limp body fell to the ground. Someone screamed. A baby began to cry and was quickly crooned to by a quavering mother. Nico looked over at Chobo, who seemed to be smiling through a bloody mouth and missing teeth.

  You keep it up chobo! And you ain’t gonna be the only one that dies tonight” The room became still. Nico wiped his brow. He seemed to be high off of power.

  Chobo was clearly in pain. I could see that he was mustering up the strength to speak again.

  “This brujeria stuff is madness. It doesn’t have any sustenance. You have to keep feeding on innocent people in order to maintain your power. Stop this now!” Chobo pleaded.

  “I got someone who will finish this shit,” he said, ignoring Chobo. He walked to the front door and called out to someone.

  “Mi hijo, entre en la casa.”

  Ali walked in, and I nearly fainted in Fatboy’s arms. I could not believe it. I tried to call out to him, but I couldn’t speak. He mindlessly took the weapon out of Nico’s hand. Nico walked behind him like a proud parent. I struggled to make eye contact with Ali. It was almost like he didn’t even recognize me. His eyes were glazed over and his face was masked with anger.

  “Son, I know you. I know your lineage and I know that you were born into an ancestral curse. You got a lot of darkness inside of you son,” Chobo said emphatically.

  Ali charged the gun and walked forward.

  “Listen to me, son. You got to get all the things that are buried inside of you out. That’s the only way you can gain control,” Chobo said.

  “He’s controlled, don’t you see the way he’s pointing his gun at you,” Nico snuffed.

  “Control is not about obedience to others; it’s the courage to listen to your inner self,” Chobo said.

  Ali’s face was void of expression he walked closer to Chobo. Neither one of them was afraid. Chobo closed his eyes and began to pray.

  “Orúnmila, second only to God, thou equilibrium that adjust world forces, thou art the one whose exertion it is to reconstruct the creature of bad lot. Repairer of misfortune, those who know thee become immortal. My Lord, perfect in the house of wisdom— infinite in the house of knowledge—for not knowing thee in full, we are futile. Oh, if we could but know thee in full, all would be well with us,” he said.

  The gun went off. The bullets flew, shattering shards of bone. I watched it nick and pierce off pieces of his skin. One flew into his stomach and guts flew out. The last one shot right into his forehead. There was silence, dead silence and then screams. The children began to cry, the mothers moved around as they struggled to calm them. Nico walked up to Ali and rested a hand on his shoulder.

  “It’s over.” Ali looked a
round the room. He looked right at me, through me. Then he dropped the gun on the ground and walked away. Fatboy rushed over and picked it up. Nico moved over to the door, with his crew leading the way. Before he left, he looked back and spoke.

  “Well, I’m back in business. Ya’ll know where to find me, seeing you might need my services.” With that he turned on his heel and walked outside.

  They were some curious bystanders that were clustered on the lawn and leaning against the fence. They scattered when the saw Nico. He had a death grip on my arm. I looked around; I could see blue, brown, green eyes squinting through the gaps of window shades. Nobody helped. No one called the police. Instead, they all watched, as me and the other boys were led away by Nico.

  ~ ~ ~

  Chapter Twenty-three

  It could all be over today.” I sang as I wiped the bathroom window with a paper towel. I paused and realized that the song, that ugly song was still in my head. I shook my head a few times, trying to forget, trying so hard to push the memories of the past deeper inside of me. I needed them to go away, so they could never see the light of day. Hey, that rhymes. I think that I will sing that from now own. I started to hum the words as I kneeled down and brushed the shit stains from the rim of the toilet. Yeah, don’t think that because people like me are crazy, that we’re lazy. We all had chores to do and it didn’t matter how fucked up we were. Trust me, when it came time for chores, everybody would heighten their levels of insanity, to try and get out of them.

  Talking to yourself didn’t work, so people would spit, rip legs off of chairs, and jump off of tables. The only problem was that their punishment was worse than solitary confinement. Rumor has it that those who act a fool are sent off to the real loony bin to converse with inmates who were criminally insane. Nobody wanted that, after all there was a class system even among us crazies. We were the white color lunatics, and we were prepared to do whatever it took to maintain our privileges. I kinda liked doing chores; there was a level of normalcy to it. I started to sway back and forth while singing my song.