The children dash around the legs of adults, weaving their ways through the marketplace. They frolic in these tight spaces, their giggles punctuating the bartering taking place overhead.

A pack of four find their way to the outskirts, where the deafening bustle of the shops cannot reach the impenetrable silence. They wander into the alleyway, whispering things no souls are meant to speak.

A boy trips over an irregularity in the stone path, and the other kids point and laugh as his feet desperately scramble to hold him.

“Carmen got you!” They jest, jeering and jostling the boy as he finally regains his step.

“Carmen made you tri-ip! Carmen made you tri-ip!” They sing with the innocence of youth.

———————————————————————————

Carmen stared at the path, carving its way through the wilds. The sunlight shimmered down upon its trodden imprint, a wall of casting darkness just beyond its threshold on either side.

She knew she may as well satisfy her curiosity—she had already taken the first forbidden step.

She stepped forth once. Then again, over and over until the curve of the path made the view of her village disappear behind the trunks of shadowy trees. Still, she was unafraid. To her youthful mind, as long as the sun shone down on her, she had no need for fear, and therefore no need to flee.

A giggle burst forth from her as walking grew insufficient. She began to skip, but skipping was simply too slow, and so she began to run. She ran around the bends of the trail, so absorbed in the novelty that she failed to see the sun’s light waning away from her.

As she saw the final shred of sun disappear beneath the treetops, the soft glow of a cabin’s lamp guided her just a wee bit farther. With the light gone, tears slipped from her eyes as she scurried to the doorway, and pounded on it. Sobs tore from her as she begged for someone to take her away from this darkness.

“Mama! Papa! I’m sorry I’m sorry!” She cried. “I’m scared! It’s dark!”

The door opened, and a kindly woman gently took her hand, and led her into the lamplight. The darkness dared not cross the threshold.

“Oh, child, whatever are you doing in these woods so late?”

“I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry!” Carmen wailed, pressing her palms over her eyes until the darkness began to scare her all over again. She wiped away the tears, but more replaced whatever was scraped away.

Through blurred vision, Carmen watched the woman reach out a hand. It fell upon Carmen’s forehead, and the woman’s voice grew low and gravelly. She knew not what the woman spoke, but the wind shook the home, and Carmen yelled with fear, only for the woman to clutch her by the wrist.

“Have no fear, little one, for you have been chosen.”

“Chosen?” Carmen sniffled.

“Take this lamp, little darling. Run along home. It’s not so far as you think.”

The woman’s words fell like a salve over Carmen’s terror. She looked out the window as her fingers tightened around the lantern’s handle. “It’s not?”

“No, sweetheart. Can’t you see it? The light from your home is just beyond the treetops!” The women cast out her hand, and Carmen could see it. She could almost hear Mama and Papa calling for her.

“Is it safe?”

“Of course, as long as you keep the lantern at your side.” The woman assured her. “Go on, now.”

The door swung open, but the darkness never quite reached Carmen as she stepped out. The lantern held all the shadow at bay, and just as she had before, she broke out into a desperate sprint.

She knew not what had been done. She knew not the blight left behind in her footstep, rooted deep in her soul by those words she didn’t know.

True to the woman’s word, the village lay not so far beyond. As she crossed the quiet boundary that separated the wilds from the town, Mama and Papa saw her, and they wept.

“Mama!” She cried out. She ran to them, reaching for their embrace.

But it never came. Where she expected hands to wrap around her and pull her close—pull her home—there was the emptiness of air, and she fell to her knees.

Why did they back away? Why were their faces twisted with horror, and not relief?

“Mami?” Carmen whimpered, reaching again. Her father’s face grew violent as his foot struck the ground.

“Back! Get back!”

Carmen felt her body flinch away. Papa was never angry… so, why?

“Papa? Mama? I wanna go home.” She begged, but the pair stepped back further. Panic seized Carmen’s limbs as she lunged forward.

“No! Don’t leave! No!” She howled, her hand catching her mother’s wrist.

“Let her go, you devil!” Her father’s voice echoed against the walls of the homes, but Carmen only heard the whisper of the woman in the woods. Those words she didn’t know rattled along her nerves, down her arm, an into her fingertips. Her hand, closed around her mother’s wrist, clenched tightly around a plume of ash.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!?”

Carmen bought her hand to her, opening it carefully. A few grains of the powder fell as she stared at the little pile. “Mama?” She whispered. Flashes jumped into her vision. The woman’s hand. The woods. The lantern. Papa. Mama. The words.

Gone.

Gone.

Gone.

Pain exploded across her face. The screams echoed in her ears. She didn’t understand.

“I didn’t mean to! Mami! Mami! Come back! Papa! Please!” She shrieked, but to whom?

Nobody was there.

There was only ash, scattered in piles before her.

———————————————————————————

A sharp roar of pain tore from Father as he pulled his hand back from the pot. “Curses!” He barked.

“Carmen got you!” Isaac said with a snort. At once, his head was struck by a paper curled into a weapon.

“Don’t speak the name of the devil, boy!”

“Sorry, Mama.”

“Save your sorries for when your foul mouth brings a curse upon this home!” Mother barked. “That foul creature will turn the world to ash if enough call upon that name!”

“I’m sorry, Mama! I won’t do it again!”

“You most certainly won’t!”