Noche de los Muertos [open]

[Deleted]

Salome Izar

Was it lack of sleep that convinced you, dear child, that it was a welcome idea to invite your future enemies to a celebration? Or perhaps you had been concussed in the hand to hand station? You’re too busy now to worry—hands rearrange another set of paper lanterns, and you shuffle, barefoot to place a painted sugar skull at the edge of a bubbling fountain. This one was marked Emery Moreno. You place it not far from the other marked Iago Izar-McClaine. The sun has shuffled beyond the horizon, bringing first a flush of purple and finally, black. You light a dizzying number of candles, their wax dripping slowly onto the waiting grass. Helped by avoxes that flit across the roof, they disappear just as soon as the stars begin to dot the sky. At last you survey your handiwork.

Your abuela would be proud. Her old-world beliefs had stuck under your skin and were the only thing keeping you sane; in truth, you desperately wanted to know if there was a world beyond the here and now, and found comfort in the stories. Whether that there was such a thing as a spirit, or a place where you’d join your cousin—no one would know for sure. But her words soothe you now, when you need them most. We are not just the air we breathe, or the water we drink. Long before and long after there will be stars; great hot things pulling things apart and putting them back together again. No matter how different you may be, remember: we all started from the same place, Salome. We are all stardust.

There are a great many that have lost. You close your eyes and still see Benat, Iago, and Levi. It would be easy to be afraid of what will come. Are you afraid? You barely know how to hold a sword. Your shelter collapsed under the weight of itself. Worse still—you’ve heard whispers of others looking to flush out the weakest of the lot. But your greatest weapon is your spirit. You must live each moment, heartbeat to heartbeat, until you have nothing left to give. Tonight—tonight—was to wash away all the fear, and to remember those that have gone before. Despite the pain of grief, there is strength. Because of your cousins, you stand alone to live as though there is no tomorrow.

You turn to hear the elevator groan, and offer your first smile of the night. “Welcome, to the Night of the Dead.” May the universe have mercy on you all.

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