The Dark Muse: A Collection of Short Stories

Feast

This was the first year Rafael had been chosen to be the Overseer. When he pulled the Death card out of the Tarot deck, he felt both excitement and apprehension. That smiling skull face atop the pale horse promised change — a new beginning — but did not hint at its nature. A cheer rose from the crowd. As he looked out over the central plaza, filled with people whose faces were unrecognizable beneath the masks that turned them into boldly painted skulls, his chest swelled with pride. He had picked the card, after all. It was a great honor: the ancestors had chosen him to watch over their feast, the one night a year when the dead could return to this world to experience the joys of the living again.

Rafael remembered looking forward to this tradition every year from his early childhood. The whole village came to life, every inch decorated with paper garlands, colorful banners, marigolds, and sugar skulls. People celebrated the ancestors, sharing old photographs and reminiscing about family and friends now gone. On the day of the feast, the villagers gathered in the plaza at sunrise, where the elders called forward all those eligible to choose a card. The drawing ended when someone picked the Death card, recognizing them as the one chosen to be the Overseer for that year's feast, the one to be the liaison between the dead and the living for one night. After the Overseer was chosen, the other villagers prepared for the feast. The cemetery was adorned with flowers and vibrant streamers, the great mahogany table was placed amongst the tombstones. Rafael remembered being a kid, helping his grandmother and the other women cook the feast, set the table, and gather the gifts. Once he turned eighteen, he was able to draw from the Tarot deck. He chose the Lovers card the year he married his beloved wife, the Empress card the year his daughter was born, and this year, finally, the Death card.

As the other villagers dispersed, Gabriel approached Rafael, clapping him on the back with a wide grin. "Raf, you feel ready for tonight?"

Rafael nodded. "It's an honor."

"Sure is," Gabriel said, looking away. "Well, it's my job to give you this." He held out a mask, holding its thin black string between two fingers as if it disgusted him. The plastic was molded into a skull shape, with holes for his eyes and nose. Gabriel had been the Overseer the year before, making it his responsibility to prepare Rafael for the feast. "You have to wear this," he said, his tone unusually somber. "Don't take it off, no matter what. As long as you wear this, you'll be safe."

Gabriel's words scared him. Rafael could tell, from the day Gabriel returned from the feast, that it had not been a good experience. The memory of it seemed to cast a shadow over his face and put a certain distance in his eyes. But none of the Overseers shared any stories about the feast; they were the only living people to know what happened there. Rafael took the mask, wondering what could have happened that night and what might happen tonight, to him. As the cold plastic touched his skin, he shivered.

Gabriel grinned at him, although Rafael thought it looked forced. "That's it, Raf. The rest, well," he looked down at the mask, "you'll just have to see for yourself."

As the Overseer, Rafael wasn't allowed to attend the preparations for the feast, making this the first year he had been absent. He spent the day with his wife, Isabela, and their daughter, Felicia. They pulled out old shoe boxes full of photographs, now faded with time. The couple shared stories with Felicia, stories about her great-grandparents, funny tales from their own childhoods. She giggled as Rafael bounced her up and down on his lap. Isabela put a marigold in the little girl's hair, and it shone like gold against her dark curls. Rafael had never felt more grateful for his family — his beautiful wife and daughter, whom he loved more than anything else in this world or any other.

Once the sky began to darken, Rafael readied himself to go to the cemetery. Before he left, he paused in front of the fireplace, gazing at the family photos lined up along the mantel: Rafael and Isabela, holding an infant Felicia, Rafael's parents and siblings, Isabela's mother and grandmother.