Page 56 of The Girl with a Thousand Faces
Some hours later, when the tempest calms down, both of you roll out from under the bed and go to inspect the damage. The fact that the typhoon has lasted a mere handful of hours has not escaped you; that’s far from normal. Not that you’re complaining, exactly.
A quick inspection settles your nerves, at least initially. The house has clearly survived, though it’s lost a number of roof tiles and one of the shutters has blown off. The garden is ripped up and will need replanting. The thought is a little demoralizing, after all the work it’s taken.
Mami, though, has skipped looking at the house and gone straight outside. You’re still sulking at the mess of the garden when you hear her choked cry. Alarmed, you dart over to the hilltop where she’s standing.
“What’s wrong?” you ask, reaching her side.
“The village is destroyed,” Mami says, hoarsely. “Just like when I was little.”
Look where she’s pointing, and wince. The handful of homes you can see from this vantage point do look seriously damaged. The pristine beauty that was on display when you first arrived is now all wrecked.
“I’m sure the ghosts will rebuild it again,” you say, trying not to fidget because it will annoy her. It’s hard to know what to say in the face of such destruction, though. “They did last time.”
“Maybe.” Mami purses her lips. “I must see the village.”
“Huh? Why? Wait, where are you going!”
Mami doesn’t listen. She strides off through the light drizzle and you hurry to follow, unsure what is happening.
The damage soon becomes apparent. Almost every other house has been flattened. A few ghosts linger in their ruins, taking up positions that recall howthey died. Some are crushed beneath collapsed roofs, others impaled improbably on sharp objects.
But overall, there are not many. Privately, you wonder where the other ghost villagers are. The death you can see is appalling, but there don’t seem to be many of them around. You wonder where the rest of the ghosts have gone.
“This is just like I remember.” Mami breathes raggedly, sounding close to panic. “When I was little, it was like this, too. I came out in the morning, found everyone dead. Found these houses ruined, and… and… I must get to the chapel!”
Abruptly, she starts running.
“Mami… Mami, slow down!” you call out, chasing after her.
She ignores you and keeps going.
Soon enough, you reach the old Catholic church. The roof has collapsed, the walls tilted in. Mami slows to a halt. “They hid in the cellar. I remember, now… Everyone thought it would be safe. But the church collapsed, and they couldn’t get out.”
You look uneasily; rubble has fallen atop the cellar door, blocking it shut. The sight of that sparks a bad feeling in your body. If the other ghosts are re-enacting their death, then what waits for you in this ruined building?
Mami begins clearing the rubble in a frantic burst of energy. “Come help!”
“I’m not sure we should do that,” you say, anxiously. “Everyone died years ago. Why go through this again?”
She whirls on you. “Just do your family duty!”
Anyone other than a parent, and you’d have considered slapping them and walking off. But since it is your mother and she’s clearly caught up in some kind of distress, you reluctantly bend to help her.
When the rubble is moved, Mami yanks up the cellar doors.
Both of you recoil, screaming.
The cellar has filled with rainwater, and every single person down there has drowned. The bloated faces of family and friends cluster at the cellar entrance, buoyed up by water. Their fingers are shredded to bone from scraping at the wood, skin purpled and bruised.
The dead begin to speak.
They wail and groan, crying out to the gods, begging for forgiveness, offering anything for their lives. One by one, bloated ghosts begin to surge from the cellar in slippery, sodden lumps, dead flesh hanging from dead bones, tormented spirits raging in their bodies.
“It’s not my fault!” Mami shrieks, tugging wildly at her own hair. “Forgive me!”
Never in your life have you seen her so unhinged, and the sight snaps you out of your own terror.
“We must go!” You loop an arm through hers and pull her away, as hard as you can.
