The Wailing Woman

68. Our Lady of Sorrows Pt. 2

All that remained in the house of worship was tragedy and isolation. Greenery invaded the holy ground as if they reclaimed it. Perhaps, it was the only thing here alive. Wooden pews were either broken or tarnished. Insects crawled all over them lazily. Booklets of songs and bibles were scattered throughout the floor with torn pages missing, and others misplaced and ripped and crumpled. Headless statues of saints hung on the cracked concrete walls. A couple of them were cloaked by black drapes. They must've abandoned this church during Lent. Miraculously, not all of the stained arch windows weren't smashed.

Moonlight spilled through them.

My father stops at the cobwebbed altar. "We should start setting things before the Moon comes into her full glory. Did you bring the salt?" he asks.

"Yes," I said as I put my bag down and started rummaging through it.

My father continues to give instructions. "Better to ask an Arslan to ignite a fire than any other witch. The candles, please." Dilara happily snaps her finger, sparking a small flame as she walks to the nearest candle by her.

I pulled out the five jars of salt and handed them over to my father, as he turned over to Rose who was about to sit down. He places them in her hands as she awkwardly hugs them. Her brows knitted together. My father politely asks, "Do you know how to make a circle?" She gives him a blank stare. He raises a brow.

She stuttered. "Yes, yes I—" she cleared her throat. "But I'm not a witch?"

He blinks. "But you do know how to make a circle, right?" Rose opens her mouth to protest but my father does not budge. He stares at her until she walks away grumbling.

My father looked at me, smiling. "Don't worry. The salt will help her too. The touch of it is like the start of a cleanse." He pulls my bag up and places it on the first front-row pew. I wait for it to break. When it didn't, I noticed my father pulling another duffle bag from underneath the pew.

I walk over to him as he searches for the rest of the items he needs. There were a couple of things I needed to talk to him about. Dilara and Rose were busy themselves and were out of earshot. My hands felt a little clammy as I approached him.

"Aha! Lo encontre!" He waves a thin purple tissue paper. "Come here," he says as he sits on the bench. I carefully sit down next to him as he lays the purple tissue neatly on his lap. He places his hand over it and mutters a spell under his breath. A second passes and shreds of purple tissue fly into the air as it's snipped and cut. When the last scrap falls on the floor, my father carefully lifts the purple tissue revealing his artwork.

A crescent moon with tiny stars hanging, then swaying as if being lulled.

It was enchanting.

"This is supposed to be a night of celebration." He stares at it longingly as if he were imagining another night in a different world. "There would've been twenty or forty tables. But more people would've shown up and had to stand. My mother and sisters would've filled at least three tables with all your favorite foods and sweets. My sisters might've bickered with each other whose food was the worst although none would've been bad. Tal vez embrujaran la comida para sepa mas rica. My mother would've fixed it before anyone ate it. Y tu tío Alejandro, he would've been dancing with every woman he could convince. None of them would've said no." 

He corrects himself as he remembers. "Maybe just one witch. My older brother, Rogelio, would've been preparing a speech about the importance of uniting yourself with the Moon and the commitment you were about to make. But we would be there to guide you and welcome you into the eternal bounding of the Moon." He then faces me, whispering. "Your mother would be there walking near the circle, observing with secrecy and wickedness. Puedo ver esos ojos verdes desde aquí." He placed his hand over his heart.