Fiesta of the Souls

Ah, the Day of the Dead festival in El Paso, Texas. The Anonymous might wonder what a woman like meself was doin’ there. Well, I didn’t exactly travel all that way for the decorations and sugar skulls, no matter how lovely they might be. I’d received a call from the local diocese about a young Mexican lass who was supposedly possessed. Now, I’ve seen me share of possessions before, but this one… this one felt different even from the start. Maybe it was because she was just a wee thing, only eight years old with big brown eyes that seemed to hold a thousand secrets.

They brought me to her family’s small house on the outskirts of town. The whole place reeked of incense and fear - you can smell it when people are truly terrified. The girl’s mother met me at the door, tears streamin’ down her face as she begged me to save her daughter. ‘La Llorona,’ she kept whisperin’, ‘the weeping woman has taken my child.’ Inside, the girl lay thrashin’ on a mattress in the living room, surrounded by candles and marigolds placed there by well-meanin’ relatives. But all those offerings weren’t gonna be enough to banish what had taken hold of her.

Anonymous, I’ve performed exorcisms in some grim places before - abandoned asylums, crumbling churches - but there was somethin’ especially eerie about doin’ it during a festival meant to honor the dead. As I began the ritual, speakin’ Latin words that felt like ash in my mouth, I swear I could hear whispers beneath mine own voice… whispers in Spanish and something older, something primal that made my skin crawl despite meself being long used to such things. It took hours of prayer and holy water before the entity finally relinquished its grip on that poor child’s soul. And even then… even then somethin’ felt off.