Page 3 of Cuervo's Carnival
There is a large opening made of jagged, faux monstrous teeth with a menacing clown face overtop the darkened tunnel. The entrance is spooky in a playful sort of way compared to some of the other fixtures that are typical at macabre-style carnivals and fairs the guys typically play at.
I head into the tunnel, and my eyesight instantly diminishes. Expecting my vision to adjust in a few seconds, I continue walking, but with each step I take, these confined quarters not only feel increasingly narrower but even darker. From the outside, the length of the tunnel seemed much shorter, yet inside, I feel like I am being swallowed whole by the pitch-black abyss.
The gravel beneath my feet crunches against my boots, which begins to gnaw at my ears as its sound is amplified in the cramped space.
The humidity inside the tunnel is suffocating, causing me to take exaggerated breaths in to gain fresh air. Focusing on the muffled music vibrating off the arched walls surrounding where I walk, I try to suppress the anxiety beginning to mount inside me.
Picking up the pace, I extend my gait to reach the end of the tunnel faster.
Just as I reach the comfort of light, I trip on a large rock buried amongst the small pebbles of the gravel walkway.
Once I regain my footing, that anxious feeling burrowing itself in the pit of my stomach strikes with a vengeance as darkness spreads over me.
Frozen in place, I stand still as a shadow begins to encapsulate where I am rendered motionless. An ominous blanket of frigid air begins to wash over me, robbing me of the comfortable warmth of late spring and replacing it with a cold so biting I begin to shiver. The obsidian hue lingers, slowly expanding its menacing reach. Suddenly, everything above, around, and within me becomes drenched in darkness.
I hesitate to shift my gaze from where it is glued to the ground, but the curiosity is too ripe. Slowly, I alter my stare as the shadow somehow seems darker with each tilt of my head upward. Battling the conflicted sensations of terror and intrigue, I continue the slow movement until my eyes are met with the source of darkness that is hovering over me.
Just as my brain begins to catch up with my vision, the darkness expands as it descends with enhanced speed, fluttering its wings near my face as it swoops down, causing my heart to stall in my chest. I step back, fixing my irises on what has now landed on a statue just outside the concert tent.
There, in front of me, is the distinct black plume associated with being the predecessor to new beginnings and untimely ends.
A portent sensation lodges in my gut, causing the warmth lingering in my center while riding here to evaporate. Now, a fervent chill seeps its way down my spine as an unsettling dose of déjà vu begins to stir inside of me.
With my eyes glued to the set of sharp talons before me, I immediately recognize the statue it perches itself on —it’s a bust of the Pallas Athena.
And just like the miniature version myAbuelahas had on her bookshelf for as long as I can remember, there is a raven perched on her shoulder. Except, unlike the replica, this raven is as real as the foreboding aura its presence gives off.
I stare at the corvid before my eyes, and a surge of bad omens infiltrates my mind. If everything myAbuelahas told me about ravens—orcuervos, as she calls them—is true, ignoring the Reaper rule will be the least of my worries.
My stalled heartbeat quickly morphs into an erratic thrashing as it thrums against my chest in a spirited panic, recalling her words.
“Lola, the cuervo represents the delicate line between life and death. Its presence means something, do not ignore it.”
2
Lola
My pulse is racing,but my body feels like it is slowing down. My legs suddenly become weak, like they are in a pool of freshly poured concrete beginning to harden. The weight of my arms feels just as dense, now plagued by a sea of prickled skin and raised hairs. Goosebumps begin to devour my body, working their way from top to bottom, drowning me in what feels like a thousand daggers piercing into my flesh.
Carefully, I adjust my gaze to the striped entrance mere feet in front of me. I want to move, fuck, I want to run, but I’m not sure of what this thing will do if I make any sudden movements.
Fighting this sinking feeling that has begun taking over my body, I lift my right foot from the gravel beneath me. Gingerly, I glide my weight up and down, pressing the sole of my boot onto the ground.
Ok, you’ve got this, Lola. One step down, a few more to go. You came to see them, not be scared away by this creature.
I continue the same motion, this time with my other foot. Except, when my heel lands on the pebbles that crunch beneath my stride, my ears are met with a sound, unlike anything I have ever heard. Before I can process what exactly it is I am hearing, my face contorts into a wince as I swipe my hands overtop my ears, trying to drown out the deafening noise.
The sound continues, amplifying its volume and making the palms that cup over my ears useless. The ear-piercing croak, as high-pitched as it is gruff, continues, feeling like it is searing my insides. I keep my eyes on the ground, refusing to look up at it out of stubbornness and a fear that not even I understand.
This only seems to upset the corvid more, as it continues to unleash its piercing cry into the air, making my eardrums feel like they are bleeding.
And then, just as suddenly as the sound began, the screeching noise comes to a halt.
Hesitant, my eyes dart from side to side, scanning the area. I keep my hands on each side of my head, shielding my ears from whatever potential uproar might be next. But to my surprise, the raven remains…silent.
Relief barrels into me as I lower my hands. Determined to get going with the evening, I lift my foot once more, but I am only able to advance two steps, when another noise abruptly stops me. Although it didn’t sound like the blood-curdling screech like before, it was different, more distinct…more sinister in its simplicity.
No, it can’t be.
