Yessica: The Saint of Writing...and Death

Yessica

              I never paid much attention to my surroundings. I was going to graduate and I had no idea how, what, or where I would continue. In middle school, I stayed away from attention, working behind the scenes of every performance. I never attended many parties and few people knew who I was. My teachers would call me Jessica instead of Yessica. I stopped correcting them in eighth grade. I was in high school and about to graduate. I worked hard to get out early and do something with my life.

             I went walking around a park in my neighborhood. Living in Utah, I knew my way around to any park and playground in the general area of my neighborhood. There were two, only one had swings. I liked walking around the park with swings, it meant I could stop and sit for a moment, before going home. I sat down at an empty swing. I was lost in thought, imagining the world outside of my little bubble.

           The history of my life started when I was born. I was born under unusual circumstances. I was never supposed to live, my life was supposed to be short. It was a full moon at midnight, I had white hair growing up, it slowly turned the raven black that I have now. I was born dead, no heartbeat. According to my dad, my mom made a deal with the disciples of La Santa Muerte, asking for my life and in return, I would posses the powers of La Santa Muerte. Yeah, I can hear the reader asking, "Magic isn't real." Well, let me tell you, it is....Well, sort of.

          Magic exists in the world. Mythology proved that it was very much real. But, it was only accessible to people who are Descendents of the Originals. People like myself, who are born under unusual circumstances. We grow up and develop the abilities that our ancestors once possessed. Over the years, the population of these descendants slowly dropped, until the rules were changed.

          Instead of being born under circumstances that would've made it very obvious who you were related to; your parents had to make a deal that you would survive. A descendant had to die before they could be given the powers. Yeah, it was like that. 

          Not many people believe in the stories of the Originals. The stories are now taught in Mythology classes. Originals, like La Santa Muerte, Hecate, Thor, and Iris, no longer exist. They died at some point in time. They had families who would inherit their powers. Their descendents in the modern world, had to keep themselves away from the spotlight. 

          I learned of my own abilities when I was a child. I could help people fall in love, help others receive wealth, can cure people of minor illnesses, a good luck charm all around, I couldn't die from a gunshot or suffer a violent death. Basically, everything that La Muerte Santa could do, I could do as well. 

         My descendancy and relation of La Santa Muerte ran through my mother. She had the abilities and passed them down to me. She would tell me the stories of our ancestors. 

         When the parent who is a descendant, has a child, the oldest child will have the most prominent abilities. Any child afterward inherits the lesser known, but still important, abilities. Since, I am an only child, I can do whatever my ancestor could. The parent loses their abilities, since, the abilities go to the child immediately after their birth. My mother now, is just very lucky in everything that happens in her life. She doesn't get sick often, maybe a cold or so, every year. 

         It was obvious that everything in my life was going to go wrong. Yet, somehow, I and anyone around me, will be okay. I kicked my feet a bit to get some motion for the swing to move. I looked up at the clouds. I never liked lightening or thunder. I liked the rain. The rain was a way for things to start again. A chance for every emotion to come out. The clouds were an obvious sign that there would be a storm. I never did like storms.

         The first storm was during my birth. The lightening hit the mountains nearby. The lights turned off. My mother cried in pain.... there was no cry from me. I was born with pure white hair, like the bones of the saint. I had my eyes closed and my skin was soft and tan. I looked like my mother. My mother called her sister, who was a disciple, to ask for help. She agreed and went with a group of other disciples. They blessed me, hoping that La Santa Muerte would give me her powers from my mother. That I would live and would be given a choice when I am older. A few days later, I let out a cry. There was a rainstorm that day.

         I like rain, but, I don't like the storm. The clouds moved closer to the little playground and park. Soon, I'd have to get home before the rain started pouring. Not that I minded that idea. I could take off my shoes and run in the rain. My father would remind me of when I was a little girl. I would take off my rain boots and jump in the puddles. I would refuse an umbrella every time. My mother hated when I would take off my shoes. Eventually, she gave up on scolding me and simply held up a towel to dry myself. 

        If we ever went camping, which wasn't very often, since we lived near the city. If there was rain, We'd pack everything up as quickly as possible and hide in the van. My dad would set up snacks and drinks and we would watch the rain. We were always prepared, since my dad would check the forecast for the week. I couldn't go out to jump in the puddles. There was always too much mud, unlike on the sidewalk back home. 

        I started walking back down the familiar street that led me home. I had a hoodie on, so I was lucky when the first few drops hit my head. I put the hood over my head and continued my trip. The rain was loud, but calming. I heard the thunder in the distance. It was close, but, not close enough to my neighborhood. I looked up as the lightening flashed. 

       I made it home before the storm could get worse. My mom had a towel waiting in her hand. She smiled sadly, the house was quiet. It was only the two of us anyway. My dad wouldn't be coming home for another few days. I took the towel from her hand and took off my hoodie. "The storm will be going on for a few more days. Not exactly, how I wanted you to start your summer." She stopped and sighed, "At least, you'll be in New York soon. Maybe there, you can explore, maybe watch your cousins and give your Tia and Tio a break." She smiled, I laughed. 

(chapter one complete! )