The Silver Scarf

Catrina comes to see the Mexican celebration, Day of the Dead, as it really is.

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9. The Others

    The tears have dried on my cheeks, and my eyes ache along with my head. I look out as the cemetery slowly fills with people out to see loved ones on the second, more sacred, Day of the Dead.


“I’m crazy…” I whisper to myself.


“Why?”


“I’m having hallucinations.”


“Of what?”


“Of you!” I cried out turning to find I was speaking to no one. I huff, my breathing shaky as I try to salvage some illusion of sanity. That’s when he appears beside me, his form glowing faintly in the dying light.


“Look.” He says as he holds his hand out as if presenting the cemetery to me. When I roll my eyes at him he gestures more fiercely, “Look closely.”


So I do, but it’s just the same as before, people in garish costumes settling around the tombstones of loved ones. I look to him but he just nods towards the expanse of stone and people before us. I look again, but closely, focussing on the way that some look to empty space for conversation and others that, like me, sit in conversation, answering questions that appear to have been asked by the wind itself. All at once, glowing forms begin threading between the solid ones, filling the gaps in conversations.


“It’s the Day of the Dead, dear. If you’re crazy for seeing the dead, then all of Mexico is crazy.” He smiles and with a curling whiff of smoke, the candle upon his grave goes out.

 

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