What the Water Gave Me | Ruby da Cherry

Memory, the Heart

Dia de los Muertos is an ancient Mexican holiday with roots stemming from Pre-Hispanic indigenous cultures. Celebrators spend three days in the cemetery to remember lost loved ones and encourage departed souls to visit. Marigolds are set out because they help guide souls back to their homes. Graves are often decorated with ofrendas that include the deceased's favorite foods, pan de muerto, and pillows and blankets for the souls to rest.

"Are you ready? I can wait if you want to," Aristos said with his hand on the doorknob.

"No, we can go," I told him. I was lying but he wouldn't leave without me and I couldn't make him wait any longer. I took his spare hand in mine. His hands were sweaty but soft as he squeezed my hand for reassurance.

"Our Father who art in Heaven," I began, crossing myself just as I do every day. Aristos stopped me before I could finish.

"God won't help you here...not anymore. Whatever you do," Aristos warned, "don't leave the path. Just stick with me."

As soon as Aristos opened the door, a cold gust sent shivers down my back. Through the door and in between the trees, glowing yellow eyes peered back at me. The face behind the eyes whispered all around me. Once Aristos closed the door, the eyes shut and the whispers stopped. The forest had become even darker, as if the sun was gone and we couldn't even get the slight illumination from the moon.

We were no more than ten steps into the forest before an apparition appeared in front of me. Aristos heard me gasp and quickly covered my eyes but the memory of the drug cartel flaying a rival in front of my house replayed in my head. It wasn't so much the vision, but the sound that forced the recall.

"It's not real," Aristos attempted to comfort me once he felt the tears on his hands. The crack in his voice didn't reassure me. "It's not real, you'll be okay, it's not real."

His voice intermingled with the cries from my neighbors and the police sirens. The scene was as crisp as the day it happened.

More awful memories of sounds, along with things I'm not sure even happened, continued to play in my head. No matter how many happy thoughts I tried to will into existence, the bad things still shoved their way through.

The worst of them was my mother begging me to follow her into the forest. She became angry, with sharp teeth, when I kept walking with Aristos. He kept my eyes covered until we passed through another door.

"We're out; it's over," Aristos sighed. The shaking knees and racing heart still lingered, however. He removed my hands from over my eyes and pulled me into a soft embrace.

We were standing in a movie theater, now. There were two seats for the us in front of the screen, just for the two of us. Only, it wasn't just the two of us now. I could see a figure next to me. It was much shorter than me and didn't look entirely human out of the corner of my eye.

"Don't look at it," Aristos harshly whispered in my ear. I did as he said and looked straight forward as the being led us to our seats. Shortly after, the movie started playing. I tried to close my eyes, fearing what I was about to see next, but Aristos told me it wouldn't help.

The theater darkened and images started flickering onto the screen. For what felt like an eternity, we watched all of our friends and family saying terrible things about us. My mom told me it was my fault my dad left, Maritza said she was just being nice and didn't actually want to be my friend...

The movies just kept coming, one right after another until the room turned black. The things Aristos told me not to look at ushered us out of the theater and into the lobby of the theater.

"Are you sure this isn't hell?" I asked Aristos once again.

"Yes," he said. "Okay, no, I don't know for sure. But I think I've figured out what's going on. The forest usually takes you through your worst memories and fears, right, that's what you saw?" I nodded my head. "And the movies take your insecurities and make your friends say it, right? Maybe we are in hell and it's just psychologically torturing us but I think it's weeding out the weak, like trials, or reminding us of bad things people do. I don't know...and we won't ever know unless we keep moving."

We exited the lobby of the theater only to be greeted by the dark, empty streets of Mexico City. It was exactly how I knew it to be, except a city of millions was devoid of any life. We were in the center of the city, near where I would often set up for the day, which is often filled with people from all walks of life, even at night. Aristos was the only other being on this street, but we weren't alone.