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Easter Bunnies
When the new neighbors came to invite us I can't deny I've got pretty excited. The entire family knocked at the door, a fruit loaded basket and pumpkin pie in hands. They're so uncommonly polite, well educated, dressed in old-fashioned clothes that reminds me of the nineteen-fifties, not here... well not from here because they're foreigners.
The Wojtkiewicz's come from one of those countries in center Europe you've never heard of and its name so hard to pronounce, the way their surname is. Slender people, the six of them. Mother, father, two girls and two boys, skin so white, purple eyes and corn-colored hair, they look like albinos compared to us to whom the sun has toasted caramel as we work the fields under the tropical sun.
They're the talk of the barrio, locals wondering why on earth they've moved from that far to the country-side of this island in the Caribbean, barely seen on the World's map. It's still a mystery, in special when they don't speak Spanish and not everyone this remote in the mountains speaks fluent English, except for us.
I gladly accepted the invitation to the Easter party to be celebrated at the coffee hacienda at Cerro Laureles, the current name of the lands they've bought, a fertile one hundred and fifty acres farm extending on to various hills, being the higher elevation where the gigantic Spanish-colonial style manor rested.
I waved them good bye and behind me, my family murmured, amazed as I was that we were going to the Wojtkiewicz's.
That Easter Sunday morning, after going to church, we rode the hauled-by-horses cart up and down the curvy narrow roads, a leisurely and fun way to enjoy our lives in the countryside. Kids loved the trip on the rustic wooden and iron wagon, hand built by my husband Carlos José some years ago, so we always went to church in the old-times way instead of driving the 4x4 SUV. Honestly it was much more fun and so unique to spend time with the family as we rode back home.
Little Linda and Carlitos giggled, waving hands good-bye our house as we passed by on our way to the neighbors'. The trees arched above the still moistened roads, miramelindas and wild lilies growing at each side under the thick canopy of trees. The sunbeams hardly squeezed through the foliage forming leafy shapes on the dark pavement. The birds sang perched on the maga and yagrumo trees branches and somewhere hidden in the green ferns the coquí frogs chirped making me smile.
Thirty minutes later we were at the Wojtkiewicz's. The horses' hooves clacked synchronized on the gravel as they galloped in a relax pace up the path to the house at the top of the hill. Pine trees roofed different sizes and color heliconia flowers neatly aligned at the edge of the trail and the coffee plants, grew in rows, forming lines of green and ripe red over the fields. Like a bride, the Hacienda house soon showed up painted in white elegantly.
Our faces beamed wows to the luxurious yet rustic beauty of Los Laureles. My husband tied the horses to a post and we climbed down right when the neighbor's children ran outside to receive us, immediately followed by their parents.
"Good morning vecinos. Welcome. Mi casa es su casa." Mr. Wojtkiewicz greeted us in both a broken English and Spanish. His perfectly aligned pearl white teeth glowing a sincere smile.
"Gracias", Carlos José shook hands and laughed as he spoke mixing languages too.
Hugging and kissing us twice on the cheeks, the rest of the family received us to then guide us to the back yard. To our surprise, there was nobody else other than the servants, ceremoniously standing under a gazebo, smiling at us.
We were the only invited to the party. Carlos and I shrugged, looking at each other while the kids didn't seem to care, they were already playing with the four Wojtkiewicz siblings.
Easter is something we don't make a party for and we only observed the day as a time of reflection and solemnity in the religious significance it bears to us. The scavenger eggs hunt and all the bunnies and flowers decoration is a tradition we're familiar to, but we don't carry it along and Linda and Carlitos were fascinated with dying eggs and eating loads of chocolates.
We conversed aimlessly sitting at the table with the Wojtkiewicz, and if the last name was a tongue twister, their names were unpronounceable for me and my husband and that gave us all a good laugh. Having tea was altogether a novel experience for us coffee drinkers and the taste in both drinks, though brewed hot and so aromatic the same, it was so disimilar, nonetheless very satisfactory.
Vlar, as we all agreed to call the neighbor and family patriarch, announced with exceeding joy a rabbit race. The kids hopped and cheered up exhilarated, Linda and Carlitos only mimicking excitedly to their new friends' response. One of the servants brought six white bunnies inside a cage, playfully bouncing on their furry feet, rosy nose and eyes glowing cuteness. Vlar gave the instructions and after placing the cage on the grassy floor the small animals were released. The rabbits jumped out the cage, crossing the yard and squeezed under the shrugs into the wilderness. The man blew an old fashion ram horn making the kids run wild chasing the rabbits into the nearby woods, followed close by us.
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It was so much fun, watching the kids one after the other catching the bunnies and carrying back in arms with so much care. They all looked adorable, dressed in their Easter spring colors, cuddling the cute animals as seen in magazines.
The four Wojtkiewicz's kids formed in the middle of the yard, facing their parents with excitement. The mother clapped, filled with pride her children caught the bunnies so fast. Linda and Carlitos smiled, cradling the fluffy creatures with tenderness, caressing the white fur back and forth. The bunnies noses sticking out, whiskers wiggling and eyes blinking overwhelmingly lovable.
"Time for the feast!" Vlar walked in, a silver tray in hands. "Wojtkiewicz first!" He said, a wide grin curving up.
My face dropped to see the four kids picking each one a knife from the tray. Chills ran up my spine when they grabbed the bunnies up by the ears and sliced their throats. Blood gushed to pour down into each child's open mouth, the poor creatures convulsing in their hands until the last drop was drunk.
***This story was written both for KatrinHollister and CoffeeCommunity challenges. KatrinHollister challenge consisted in writing a scary story where childhood was ruined. I chose Easter as the setting.
CoffeeCommunityWattVampires challenge had to involve vampires and coffee. So what a better setting than the countryside in Puerto Rico, where the best coffee in the world is grown.
