My childhood playground was filled with ghosts.
We all knew the legend of La Llorona, who could be anywhere, ready to drown unsuspecting children in the ditches of Mesilla or the Rio Grande. But there were others: the mysterious actress in the oldest movie house in New Mexico; the lovers, killed with garden shears in what is now a famous restaurant; the priest buried directly behind the church. But the scariest one to me was the witch.
The Church and the Cemetery
Mesilla, New Mexico has a rich complicated history. Like most of New Mexico, it was home to nomadic Indians long before Coronado and Juan de Onate passed through in the 1500s. The area was claimed by Spain, then Mexico, then the U.S. after the Gadsden Purchase in 1854. It played an important role in the Civil War, and it flourished in the 1880s, attracting outlaws and lawmen, including Billy the Kid.
A jacale church stood on the south side of the plaza where the bar sits now, before it became a mail stop, or printed the local news, or became a cantina. In the 1850s, the Basilica of San Albino was constructed with adobe on the north side of the plaza, and it was later replaced by a brick structure of French design in the early 1900s.
Its cemetery was established several blocks away, down the lonely Calle de Guadalupe, and its grounds are crowded with gorgeous weathered tombstones, crosses, and sculptures covered with religious iconography -- books, crosses, hearts, doves, hands, shrouds. Over 800 souls are buried there, dating back to the 1800s, including the famous Fountain family. You feel the history around you as you stroll the hardpacked earth. Just mind those goat-heads, and don't visit after dark.
The Bruja
Straight ahead, down in the middle of the cemetery sits a large six-by-six tomb, marked only by a tall, slender cross. A bruja was buried there in the 1800s, they say, in a grave covered by a large stone and later encased in cinder blocks and concrete. The hardpacked earth surrounding it is clear of vegetation so that roots don't penetrate the grave. Cracks frequently appear in the tomb's stucco, the telltale sign that she is still trying to escape.
All we know about her are urban legends. When I was in elementary school, I heard that witches danced around her grave at midnight under the full moon. More recently, a student, on a dare, spent the night on the slab and suffered terrible seizures. And each Halloween, the cracks are mended by the locals to ensure her ghost doesn't claw its way out.
One ghost down. More to go. If you've heard anything about the witch, I'd love to hear your stories.
My short story, "Doors Out of the Dark," is set in Mesilla and appeared in the Magic Portals anthology. Find it here.
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