Shallow Ground: Los Condenados

By LV. R Quijas

The Condenados are the most influential and respected families living the American dream. Migrated, worked hard, turned rags to riches by managing Regreso a la Vida- a successful mortuary empire. Fame and fortune hasn't stopped them from leading a mysterious private life but publicly they're surrounded by gossip many speak about but don't dare challenge. Rumors said they hide a dark secret behind closed doors haunted by the World of la Niebla, their purgatory; the World of the Dead. Are they condemned true to their last name? Or just vicious rumors to discredit their reputation?
My family was granted access to their inner circle because of friendship ties bound not by blood but by tradition, an Oath made in Baptism. I've always tener los pies en la tierra, now I'm walking on shallow ground, my faith is being tested questioning the unexplained... the occult, the darkside o f what most people refuse to believe exists until it happens to them.
This summer in Tala, Jalisco my heart raced of paralyzing fear when lured with uplifting banda music. Face to face with the infamous Las Catalinas; calacas with long hair up to their knees with a cross between catrina and bruja. Transparent skin with a ghostly hue displaying skeletal bones with large hollow shaped inquiring eyes, huipil embroidery fitted dresses flaunting voluptuous curves with their huaraches with bare feet dangling several inches above the ground. Thought it was folklore until my curiosity got the best of me leading into a dark alley promising the answers to questions locals warned tourists about.
"My name is Reina Dolores Angeles, a fourteen year old fraternal twin on vacation with family visiting Mexico happily embracing my latin roots until my life turned upside down; now I'm facing my greatest fear of being haunted by the town's legend. Caught in the middle of family feuds questioning secrets that were buried but now being resuscitated. This is my life, my journey, my story."

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Sep 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798350912531

Book preview

Prologue

The Condenados are the most influential and respected families living the American dream. Migrated, worked hard, turned rags to riches by managing Regreso a la Vida- a successful mortuary empire. Fame and fortune hasn’t stopped them from leading a mysterious private life but publicly they’re surrounded by gossip many speak about but don’t dare challenge. Rumors said they hide a dark secret behind closed doors haunted by the World of La Niebla, their purgatory; the World of the dead. Are they condemned true to their last name? Or just vicious rumors to discredit their reputation?

My family was granted access to their inner circle because of friendship ties bound not by blood but by Tradition, an Oath made in Baptism. I’ve always tener los pies en la tierra, now I’m walking on shallow ground, my faith is being tested questioning the unexplained… the occult, the darkside of what most people refuse to believe exists until it happens to them.

This summer in Tala, Jalisco my heart raced of paralyzing fear when lured with uplifting, mesmerizing, rhythmic banda music. Face to face with the infamous Las Catalinas; calacas with long hair up to their knees with a cross between catrina and bruja. Transparent skin with a ghostly hue displaying skeletal bones with large hollow shaped inquiring eyes, huipil embroidery fitted dresses flaunting voluptuous curves with their huaraches with bare feet dangling several inches above the ground. Thought it was folklore until my curiosity got the best of me leading into a dark alley promising the answers to questions locals warned tourists about.

My name is Reina Dolores Angeles, a fourteen-year-old fraternal twin on vacation with family visiting Mexico happily embracing my Latin roots until my life turned upside down; now facing my greatest fear of being haunted by the town’s legend. Caught in the middle of family feuds questioning family secrets that were buried but now being resurrected. This is my life, my journey, my story.

Curiosidad killed the cat...but, shrug my shoulders, at least died sabiendo.

— Reina Dolores Angeles, La Condenada

Chapter Uno

Haunted grounds

The smell of wastewater and trash mixed with homemade tortillas, chiles de arbol with refried beans, chicharrones and bollillos constant reminder I’m home away from home. Rigoooo! holding tightly to the torn leather seat clenching my fingers as iron clamps on both sides as the tire goes through a bache! Fly’n out!

Buckle up mensa!

Rigoberto! Giggling in the back of the old jeep, the five year old, Milagros.

Forgot foreign! hair stiff with gel and his round glasses moving down as he quickly puts his index finger to push them back preventing them from sliding from his pointy nose (if it wasn’t because we don’t live in a fantasy world would be as big as the border from all the lies he says all the time) a nervous twitch getting on my nerves. Y sin pesos.

Trade ‘em for chips, again the museo donation has to wait,

Been to Casa de Cultura every summer not missing much, just chill Reina jeez, live a little sis.

Fourteen going on eighty.

Not talk’en to you gosh so annoying!

Malo meanie you weenie!

Cochinita. Inflates his cheeks as a balloon, Oink, oink.

Stoppit! and slap the side of his cheek causing him to spit out his gum. Swerves as he socks me hard on my shoulder. Men..so..te!

Ooh telling hit-er.

Start’ed it.

Truce.

Los viejillos never gets the cigarette behind his right ear, lights it let us out, free at last, free at last.

Grampies see ya, make ya eat it.

Time alone if ya know what I mean.

Gross! Dressed doll-like with a red and white summer dress with a matching headband. Both study her through the mirror visor.

Milagros buckle up! Miracle child, baby sister came along many years after my dad-graduated from college?

Doing the parenting thing when many seniors their age are well…retiring.

Hey, many great men from the Bible were ancient and did great things. She’s unaware of me observing her as she sits all proper playing with her hands until one of her fingers travels vertically up her nose, gets a booger making me gag, sticking it in the back of my brother’s hair very gently making me wonder how many times the little bratt been doing the exact thing to me. Wonder if dentures get loose when kiss’n.

Telling.

Chismosa.

Live a lil’ sis. We’re young, wild and freee!

He’s a she. Giggles.

Say wuuuut? not a girl.

Act like one.

Mirror all the time, giggles, hoping Monse will fall for ‘im.

Checking out muscles, never have. Punches me hard on my left arm, Owie!

Shut up! detour to the cemetery and leave ya there!

Turn around putting my finger in the middle of my lips leaning back on the torn seat wishing this jeep had an automatic button to blast him to the moon. On the side of the dirt road a little boy with white briefs is with his sister playing with rocks waves. Work’in. Adults and children of all ages selling food, quesadillas, chicharrones, toys, balloons, chips, clothing etc., a sign stating a population of 32,180 in the State of Jalisco. The smell of tacos and carne asada makes me salivate as we pass Colonia Ingenio through the yellow speed bumps through the highway and Ingenio de Tala, a sugar refinery employing locals but known for wrongfully polluting Lake La Vega was all over the internet years ago. Tala is short for ‘Tlallan place of Arable Land where it’s said that there’s bits and pieces of archeological artifacts turning up anywhere people dig because of its rich history. Pass out ten minutes into the job pocho.

Hooray for anti-child labor laws for this Americano.

Torn between both countries, roots pull ya, know what I mean?

Sugar cane parcelas paradise.

Tala is my Hawaii. In the distance the town’s graveyard with a rainbow of flowers red, blue, yellow, white, pink adorning the white graves with crosses of many shapes and sizes with mini chapels for prayers. Parks to the side away from speeding cars. Get out of the car and grab water bottles out of my bag and start walking into an abandoned road. The trees are like giants and its leaves as umbrellas giving us shade from this heat wave, so green and curved forming a tunnel making me imagine walking into a painting’s canvas while picturing Our Creator surrounded by white light holding a brush. The wind sends a chill down my spine as the clouds slowly hide the sun and sip my water.

Rumored our Ninos are cadavers, drink blood to survive.

Ain’t vampiros.

Locals swear they don’t go out during full moon nights,

Tampoco lobos.

To not reveal their huesos that glow through their skin.

Hearsay menso.

Even their last name is damned, get it Condenado equals damned.

Proof it. Giggled.

Their lawyer once again, geez. Then why all the security and secrecy?

Ricos duh.

Eh? Not even us?

Right rarely mingle with ‘em, texts don’t count.

Runs an empire duh.

Cemetery empire exclusive to top notch members, a cult sis.

Tongue falling out for speaking evil.

Shuts his mouth like a mouse trap clenching his jaws back and forth as a swing. Not far.

Documented on these grounds, the river has healing powers. That’s why they protect it so much.

It’s said these tierras once belonged to Brujos and the grass, trees and flowers have healing powers due to witchcraft.

Milagros’s eyes are wide open, Brujeria like, spells?

More like Indian burial grounds don’t believe ‘im.

Stepping on tombs then, ya dig deep enough, find artifacts dating back hundreds of years. Pay locals to stay out of their property.

Stop messing with Nino’s rep.

Love him more than my brother?

Yours not mine.

Inherited his good looks, should worship the bastard.

That’s what ya teach‘er? The onyx antique metal heart shaped double gate is majestic with the letter ‘C’ a tribute to its owners. Roses of all colors, mauve, red, pink, adorn the Hacienda de Los Condenados. The property is infinite, acres of land with red, black, brown and white pebbles of different shapes and sizes like bean soup. Forest green grass leading to dirt roads toward the stables where horses run free as leaves blown away from the wind. Won competitions during festive dates in palenques during Las Fiestas de Octubre y La Feria de La Caña.

Beautiful as carousel horses. Giggles. Wish can ride one!

Gallinas and roosters roaming with their chicks like busy aunts next to the haystacks blending with the old fashioned ranch style country living with purple, yellow, white flowers like New Orleans plantations with mystical charm luring, daring you to come in and get lost with in its splendor. The gates, a reminder that whomever wants to come in must stay out a barrier hiding secrets silent witnesses of its master’s way of life.

Puncture your skin while the sun’s rays will barbecue you like carne machaca.

And those tiny skeleton heads on top of iron bars are displayed like when the Mayans warned trespassers.

Nadie. Milagros is wide eyed. Hear that? No birds.

Victim tacos for dinner. Tacos de lengua, cabeza, de tripas…

C for cementerio.

Shut up nerdo.

Where did ya get it?

Mami’s.

Going to jail… in a foreign country.

Relax aint stealing, just breaking and entering.

That was not what we agreed, geezus!

Chic side coming out, let’s mentally prepare ourselves. He gets a handful of dirt and throws it all over her hair and starts crying hysterically hitting him with her water bottle.

Here that? banda music. Fondles the lock moving his fingers as if typing with desperation and with a loud click it opens, Closer we get to it the farther away it is. Hurry have ta find out where it’s coming from.

Leaving us behind? Child hisses, Mouse.

You hate that music, that’s off, and humming? And dancing? press record on my cell and find shade under the tree seeking its leaves, both of us drinking the rest of our water as fish avoiding dehydration from this humidity shaking my feet as hot dirt invades my toes with its tiny rocks making me regret wearing sandals. Leaves are falling on top of us intruders as the branches are swinging them back and forth slowly as mothers do to their children in a playground. Cautiously we admire the hacienda and she runs to the huge water fountain that’s surrounded by an army of crows bathing and sipping from it. The Arzelia lavender flowers adorn the grounds with vibrant red, purple and pink blooms taking me back past summers as a kid when playing with my best friend Monse, Rey and Rayo hide and seek never tag because the Condenado kids were simply too slow and not athletic at all. Used to get mad at you for throwing rocks at the crows with a resortera ya got at the tianguis at the plaza remember?

Murderer!

Rayo burnt ‘em, his sidekick poisoned ‘em.

Yeah, Boogeyman, the cucuy…real deal and the culero Adrian his partner in crime.

Serial killers.

Used ta throw ‘em at ya, and Rey made them regret it.

Prince charming, romantic. Giggles.

Rey this and that blah blah bleh.

Wish lived here.

When you marry someday, this place will be ours.

Bop him on the side of his head, don’t tease ya ‘bout Monse.

Don’t bring Monserat into this.

Doomed, helplessly in love with the Condenados. Giggles, The death of you guys.

The banda music stops and the leaves are carefree dancing with the wind. We split up, Milagros enjoying the scenery while he’s picking up rocks and putting them in his pockets. Can’t shake the feeling of being watched, but don’t see nada and again look to my side and back and nothing.

Reina… Pink eyes piercing, Serássss

Rein...a… Gold eyes pleading, admirada por todosss

RE..ina… Lavender eyes glowing, perooo

Reinaaa… Marble eyes hypnotizing, reina de nadie.

My name uttered in echoes causing an invasion of goose bumps all over my body and icy chills slithering down my spine. Wind’s howling. The voices come from the trees as three black ravens with purple eyes circle around us like scavengers as a mini tornado, myth says it’s the devil’s breath passes through us. It’s happening so fast that my brain is having trouble putting my thoughts together while the glare of their jewel collars around their necks of red, white, green and blue blind me. Pale bare feet are dangling several inches above my head. Bite my tongue to not scream and in a flash the four chicas are holding hands in a circle going around and round very slowly with all the time in the world trapping me in the middle. These muchachas aren’t ghosts, see their bones through the skin, dead brujas? Long hair up to their knees with a cross between witch-catrina dressed in white indigena flower embroidery peasant style white dresses that flatter their bodies with a strand of baby’s breath flowers and roses of red, pink, orange, yellow and a belt made of rope hanging around their waist. Breathtaking, beautiful. And their eyes, oh my gosh their ojos, large, hollow and round as black caves, crystal balls each unique in color glowing with glitter. Milagros and Rigo are clueless- how can they not see them? It’s like if they’re in a different dimension going about their business admiring the scenery, totally ignoring me as I’m trapped in this bruja spell being studied as my body moves like a snake slowly in a trance listening to a flute as they smile wickedly. Their skeletal bones have an eerie skeleton glowing out through their skin, dancing to the banda beat with each girl carrying a tiny chiffon ruffled gray umbrella- using it to shield the sun’s rays and then magically transforming them into tiny brooms sweeping the leaves falling from the trees. Singing a lullaby telepathically over and over again.

Anda visitanos al Río de Las Ánimas. Black hair beauty, pink eyes piercing.

En el cementerio no seas mala. Brown hair, gold eyes pleading.

Hazlo. Blonde-la huera giggles as a child up to no good; lavender eyes glowing as neon fluorescent lights.

Al oscurecer. Rainbow streaks, a mix; marble eyes drawing me hypnotizing as a moth to light.

Their body language is a game of charades like Chaplin silent films. My eyes lock into theirs forming a beam of light as a flashlight’s as a movie projector forming a foggy 32’ oval orb crystal ball… blurred, foggy reflection of a muchacha. Round eyes as chocolate lollipop, slanted with black eyeliner with butterfly lashes, skin is as a vanilla shake mixed with Irish cream, light brown hair up the waist with light streaks of blue and green combed in a feathered style like back in the 70’s. Lips are full, heart shaped, plump as rose petals bewitchingly beautiful wearing a fluffy black gown lace dress with tiny blue, red, pink, lavender and white roses tight against her waist with her skeletal bones giving out a subtle fluorescent lime green glow through her skin. She blinks then opens her eyes and her human side turns on as light switch- dressed with tight black jeans, cowboy boots with roses engraved on them, headband like a gypsy’s as her wavy dark burgundy long hair falls lazily down the waist, smiling, intriguing, making anyone ask themselves, who’s that girl? Blinks, revealing the calaca-trina side and opening her ojos revealing her gypsy human side. Fog surrounds her face and vision disappears. Trapped in the middle of them, holding hands forming a circle humming. Moving in slow motion sus cabellos are enchanted dancing as if underwater; leaving me staring dumbfounded with my mouth open.

Una quinceañera que Sera… Pink oval eyes piercing.

admirada por todos… Gold eyes know.

… pero… Lavender eyes glowing.

Reina de nadie. Marble eyes combination of the others is shaking her head in pity.

Admired by all but… nobody’s queen.

Thundering horse hoofs coming straight engulfing us in a mini tornado