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 nolonger 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 werewrapped around the steel bars and angels made out of granite were perched on largepillars. I pushed it open and walked it inside. There was a formation of tombstones thatwere lined up on either side of me. In between them, they were pathways of greenfoliage. The grass was perennial rye. Cedar trees with needle like leaves shook theirbranches. They seemed to be guiding me forward.
I walked past serpentine and gothic headstones, giant mausoleums and floor markersthat had been overtaken by wild shrubs. I walked around the cemetery until a spotted adiminutive headstone with my mother’s name on it. I looked up at the sky. The moon wasfull. Thick clouds floated around it like sailboats. How long has it been since I have seenmy mother?It had been four years. I had gone four long years without a mother’s love. Ineeded 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 weredry and my heart tried to process all the events that had taken place. Maria was dead. Mymomma was dead, my father was a bum, and my brother was nowhere to be found. I fellto 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 wasbrimming with life. I heard the crickets chirp. The leaves rustled. And long shards ofgrass 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 likethere was a pulse, almost like a heartbeat. I waited. I could only imagine what I lookedlike. My pants were blotched with stains. My hair was littered with leaves and my soulwas tattered and torn, but I knew that I had to be strong. A family of birds flew over myhead 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 andflapped away.
A raindrop fell. It plopped down hard on my nose. I looked up and saw that dark andangry clouds were moving in. It began to rain. At first, it was just a light drizzle. Then thewind began to howl. The rain became slanted and landed on the ground and on my skin inheavy pellets. Thunder rumbled and shook the earth. Lightening exploded through thesky.
“Momma what’s happening? What did I do?” I said.
I looked around me. Rivulets of water started to stream down the pathways, forminghuge puddles. I ran and looked for a dry space to find cover. I snuggled under a largemausoleum made of stone. I shivered, my feet were soggy, my hair was wet and plasteredto my scalp, and my clothes felt like they were tapered to my skin. The moon haddisappeared 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 thepouring down rain, and I wasn’t scared. Something inside of me told me that I didn’tneed to be. I never needed to be scared or feel alone ever again. I fell asleep in thecemetery. When I woke up the next morning, I looked up at the clear sky and knewexactly what I needed to do.
I rushed to the nearest bus stop. I looked a mess, but I didn’t care. I paid and climbedon. In less than an hour, I was standing in front of an old brownstone building. I walkedup 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 doorand motioned for me to walk in. I was hoping for a much warmer welcome. Warily, Ientered 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 oversizedbosom. They were seated on the lap of an extra large woman, wearing a floral patternedgown. 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 allover the floor, abandoned by the children. Now, they stood, shivering with fear, peeringbehind tall adult legs, or nuzzled up in a protective embrace. The television was on andairing a Spanish soap opera, but nobody was watching it. There was a man who was pentup against the wall and he had this weird look on his face, like he had swallowedsomething sour. I started to tremble as I experienced shock waves of panic. My worstfears were confirmed when I began to recognize some of the faces in the room. Fatboywas holding a handgun. Diablo was there, nudging a Swiss Army knife into the guy’sback, thus explaining the weird facial expression.
I watched Chobo glide toward me. He looked like a larger than life body puppet ontop 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
