S A C R I F I C E
"What is dead may never die."
Before
Famine had fallen upon their small village in Abiquiu, Mexico.
Rosalina's mother, Isabel, grew more anxious as the time passed and starvation and sickness ran rampant. Her second son had already fallen due to a deathly sickness, a long with Rosalina's father who had died shortly after her birth. Death followed the Diaz family like an omen, and the old bruja's claimed it was because of the curse that they had cast upon them.
It was no secret that the Diaz's use to be a rather profitable family, with Rosalina's abuelo having founded the village; he'd taken on the job of running it himself. At first, they'd been respected and loved by the people that migrated, with promises of fields perfect for crops and a plethora of healthy livestock to feed the people.
The village acquired a system: her abuelo ran it, the land provided, and the people distributed it fairly.
When their first son, Rosalina's father, was born, the whole village had celebrated. They did so with the rest of the sons that were born -- for it seemed the Diaz family rarely produced any females -- and his father groomed all of his children to be leaders.
So Rosalina's father married Isabel when he was old enough, producing their first born -- a son. One of many, he expected. Her papa's brother's wives went on to bare many sons, and the village rejoiced as another line of the Diaz's seemed in good health.
That is, till Isabel had fallen ill.
Overcome with worry, Rosalina's papa turned to the villager's with any possible remedies, and they ran through them all till Isabel's sickness persisted. His brother's warned him against seeking any other remedy, claiming that it seemed death was ready to take his wife, but he was not ready to let her go.
So, he turned to the witch -- the bruja -- that lived in the mountains near a numerous amount of caves and pleaded with her to save his wife's life. She agreed, on her own terms, of course, that would benefit her: a large portion of the food produced would go to her, a long with only the healthiest livestock. He swore he would, and they sealed it with a mere drop of blood. Though it was never outlined with what would occur if he failed to comply.
It was unspoken, as he cared little for only the cure.
So the bruja swore his wife would heal in 3 days time, that she would walk once more, and never have sickness touch her again.
And Isabel walked 3 days later, with a renewed vigor for life and the witch's words rung true.
Rosalina's father obliged the deal, sending an abundance of crops and livestock up the mountain, but the people did not know of this deal, so they summed up the lack of food due to weather conditions. Isabel birthed another son during this time, but the celebration was less exuberant, for they didn't have the same amount of food and drink to cheer with.
Eventually, the fields grew barren, and the land stopped giving. Many cattle fell ill and died over night, and the people grew gaunt and worried.
And during this time, Isabel carried the last child she would ever conceive in her womb. She'd given her husband three sons, and she expected to provide him with one more, but the villagers grew weary when they heard of the deal Rosalina's papa had made.
"Black magic," they whispered, "Cursed village. Cursed family. Cursed child."
A drift was created between Rosalina's papa and his brothers, who turned their backs on him and who had warned him in the first place to not seek the witch. They migrated in fear of the curse falling upon them, and her abuelo died in that time, disappointed in the actions of his first born son.
And the night her abuelo died, Isabel birthed their fourth and last child; a girl.
Panic rose in the villagers, as a girl had never been born to the Diaz's line. Cursed, the villagers persisted. And they were not wrong, since after Rosalina's birth, her father suddenly collapsed, dead on the spot and Isabel's eldest son left, and never returned.
Her second son fell ill and died that summer, and her last surviving boy grew weaker by the day. But Rosalina flourished.
She grew beautiful, nearing adolescence with rounded curves and soft features -- her heart as gentle as her namesake. And the villagers, who grew more sickly and malnourished by the day, loathed her.
Despite the supposed cursed, Isabel loved her daughter endlessly, as did her youngest son who sought to protect his sister at any turn. But soon, he fell sick too, and Isabel, like her dear husband, could not bare to part with her last son.
So, she turned to the bruja and asked how to break the curse.
"Mi nina," the old witch had began when Isabel entered the cave. "Your husband broke his promesa, and so death fell upon this whole village. If I tell you how to lift it, to restore your son's health and the people's, will you do it?"
"Si," Isabel breathed in response as she stared into the old woman's endless, dark eyes. "Whatever is necessary."
And so the old crone smiled, and Isabel felt terror rise up her throat as soon as the words of what needed to be done fell from the woman's lips.
"No," Isabel refuted, "no, I-"
"The curse began with her birth," the bruja said, "I know for I allowed her to take form in your womb after your husband failed, giving him the one thing that he never desired: a daughter."
Isabel's eyes watered, a tear trailing down her weathered face, "ella es mi hija. My only."
"No," the witch replied calmly, her white hair gleaming silver in the candlelight, "she has never been yours. It must be done."
So Isabel journeyed home and informed her son, and he wept as well for his sister. The witch told all of the village, who was more than content with what needed to be done.
They waited for Rosalina to return home, and when she did, Isabel hugged her tightly, pressing a kiss upon her brow. "I am sorry," she cried to her sole daughter. "I am sorry."
Rosalina did not understood, grasping her mother by the forearms, "for what? Que pasa?"
Her brother was too weak to move from his sick bed, so he screeched for Rosalina to run, to escape, but Isabel anchored her daughter in place.
And then the villagers came.
They tore the wooden, flimsy door from its hinges and seized the young girl by the arms. Isabel followed with silent tears.
"Mama?" The young girl cried in terror as she began to fight against the hands that held her, "what's happening?"
But Isabel could not answer, rather she listened to her daughter's feverish cries to be released, pleading for forgiveness for whatever she had done wrong. They did not listen.
They led her into the belly of the beast, the highest cave at the point of the mountain where the old witch stood with a staff composed of animal bones and dark black paint coating her face. They dumped the frightened girl on the stone slab, restrained her wrists as her screams grew louder, realization dawning upon her.
"I don't understand!" Rosalina sobbed, "I've done nothing, I swear it!"
"Hush now, child," the old witch cooed, running a finger down the girl's pretty face, "sacrifice must be made to appease the others."
"I don't want to die," Rosalina whispered to the witch, whose thin lips only stretched into an eerie smile.
"What is dead may never die, mi corazon."
Rosalina thrashed at the woman's words, who drew similar markings of paint across the girl's face as chants filled the air. A plea for the curse to be lifted in exchange for an innocent life; a promised one.
"Mama, por favor!" Rosalina cried as Isabel wept for her daughter. She turned, unable to look as Rosalina's screams reached a new octave, "Mama, please! Please!"
And then her screams were heard no more.
Silence befell the people of the village, a wave of emotion passing over them as Rosalina died before them.
The witch laid the bloody knife upon the young girl's body, Rosalina's lifeless eyes staring into nothing. Isabel did not approach.
The villagers filtered out, a newfound hope within them, while all Isabel felt was sorrow. "Her body?" She questioned. The old witch shook her head.
"She will lay rest here."
Isabel quivered at the idea of leaving her daughter's body in a cave to rot, among bats and insects to feast upon her. But she could not even bare to move her feet towards Rosalina, so she nodded, and left feeling boneless.
The village prospered shortly after; Isabel's only son lived, and grew healthy, and bore a son of his own with his new wife. The village blossomed with life again, the crops grew abundant, and laughter filled the air once more.
Isabel grew old and burdened with the guilt of what she had done. She died surrounded by her grandchildren and last living son, who also wept for his lost mother and sister.
They never visited the cave again. The witch died as well, and the mountains were vacant once more.
Until they weren't.
Rosalina's body remained in tact; it never rotted and no insects dared to pry upon her. For on the 80th year of her sacrifice, she awoke.
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-- Nymixx.