La Llorona

There is a story handed down through the generations in Mexico. It’s mostly told as a ghost story to keep young people inside at night. La Llorona is generally considered a horror story, not a love story. This story is probably a good example of the negative side of the Saboteur at work. I'll leave it up to you to decide which character allowed the Saboteur to act in a more destructive way.

In a town in the country, there lived a young girl named Maria. Maria was the most beautiful girl in the village. She had long, dark hair that streamed down her back, large black eyes with the longest eyelashes, and her smile showed perfectly even white teeth. Not only was she beautiful, but also she was kind. That smile was given to all who passed her. They found themselves returning it, and their day was a little brighter than before. Every Thursday, she helped the Padre cook a meal at the chapel for the families who had no money or work. She watched the children while their parents attended a special Mass. Maria’s family wasn’t wealthy; they barely had anything, but they had enough to eat and to clothe their children. Her father did honest work in the hardware store in town. They survived on what he brought home, and it was enough for them.

One day, a handsome young ranchero rode into town from one of the outlying estates his father owned. He was nearly as beautiful as Maria, and he rode his horses as if he descended from the half-man, half-horse centaurs. His clothes were always perfect, his spoke well and write poetry, and he smelled so deliciously clean, even after riding. Maria was going to the church when he spied her on the sidewalks. His breath left his body for a moment, taken away by the lovely goddess-like vision in the white dress, her dark hair billowing behind her in the evening wind. He was instantly smitten.  Before he pulled his horse to a stop, he had already leapt from the saddle to go to her.

“Beautiful lady,” he called, “Please don’t pass me by without smiling and saying hello.”

Maria smiled and said, “Hello. Do I know you?”

“No,” the young man answered, “But my name is Cortes. My father owns the Rancho Azul outside of town.”

Maria’s eyes widened as she looked at Cortes. Then she glanced down quickly. “Why would you be interested in a smile from a poor town girl like me?”

Cortes walked a little closer so he could look down at her, lifter her chin with his hand, and smiled, “Because you are the loveliest lady I have ever seen in all my travels across Mexico. When I saw you, I had a vision of Venus walking in the waves, coming to make all men fall in love with her.”

Maria knew she should step back and go on toward the church, but this gorgeous young man staring down at her with such passion in his eyes made her hands tremble and her knees weak. She parted her lips to take a breath, and Cortes kissed her before she could say anything else.

It was later that night, just after the sun had set, and while the moon rose, full and round, that the two lovers returned to Maria’s small home. Her mother looked up in surprise from the dining table in the central room. Her father came in from the bedroom smoking a pipe. He stopped when he saw Maria had returned with a visitor.

“Well, then boy!” he practically shouted. “Who are you, and why have you come to my house with Maria?”

“Sir,” Cortex began, “My name is Cortes. My father owns the Rancho Azul outside of town. I saw your daughter when I came into the village this afternoon, and I have fallen in love with her. I came to seek your permission to take her away and marry her!”

Maria squealed with delight. Maria’s mother gasped and held her hand to her mouth. Maria’s father simply kept his arms crossed, staring at the strange young man.

“You say you will marry her?” the father finally asked. “Where will you live? Where will I be able to see my daughter? When will the wedding take place?”

Cortes sighed with relief and answered. “I will take Maria with me to my father’s ranch. He has many, many acres. We will build a cottage near the river on my father’s land. My father’s ranch has its own chapel and priest, and we can be married there by the end of this week!”

Still looking doubtful, the father turned to Maria. “My dear daughter, is this truly what you want?”

Maria’s smile had always been dazzling before, but this smile nearly blinded her father. “Yes, Father!  Yes!  Cortes loves me and I love him. We have decided that God has brought us together in this unusual way – because of our devotion to our families and to helping others in need.”

That was all her father needed to hear. He gave Cortes his blessing. Maris didn’t have many items to pack. A couple of white dresses, a pair of sandals, and a small locket her father had given her. The locket had once belonged to her grandmother, the grandmother who had died before she was born. Her grandmother had died when her father was just a child.  She looked at the top of the necklace for a moment. There was a beautiful “L” engraved on the top of it; her grandmother’s name had been Linda. She hadn’t thought until now to ask her parents how her grandmother had been able to afford such a fine piece of silver… Then she shook her head and tossed the locket into her small pack. She was going to be married!

As the young couple left, Maria kissed her mother and her father.

“Be careful my dear,” her father told her. “You have the beauty of your grandmother. I hope you also don’t have that same foolishness.”

Maria puzzled over the comment as she rode behind Cortes to his father’s ranch. What foolishness had her grandmother exercised? Did it have something to do with the necklace, or with her early death? She supposed she would ask her father when he came to the wedding next week.

Cortes settled Maria into the large main house on the ranch. The house staff and the family were cordial to her, but not especially friendly. Maria was surprised by this attitude. Weren’t they excited that Cortes was marrying someone so beautiful and kind? Hadn’t Cortes told them how much he loved her? Cortes would come home late at night, still grimy from the day’s work. She missed him. Why wasn’t he home earlier? She asked him every day. Every day he told her the same thing. I have to work hard to build our little cottage by the river. It is not very close to the main house, but it isn’t too far from town. He was working hard for them, he said. His father didn’t give handouts. Everyone was expected to do his fair share. Maria would smile then, and Cortes would kiss her until she forgot who and where she was.

A week passed, then two, then a month, then three months, then half the year was over. Maria grew impatient to have the wedding. Cortes kept delaying, saying they needed to have their home ready before they could truly be man and wife before God. She wrote letters to her family, asking them why they didn’t come see her. She could send a horse and cart for them so they wouldn’t have to walk so far. No one answered. At the end of every day, Cortes would walk into their room, shaking his head sadly. No, no letter from her family. Maybe they didn’t care about her anymore, now that she lived on the Rancho? No, that couldn’t be it. Maybe, he said, maybe they have had to work very hard lately. There has been an epidemic of Typhus in the town, he told her. Maria’s heart sank. Typhus meant no one could come or go into the town. Would she ever see her dear parents again? Then she felt Cortes’s arm around her, his lips on her skin, and she forgot her worry…

After the seventh month, Cortes announced the cottage was finished. He took her there. In the closest, new gowns hung in all different colors. The kitchen was beautiful with its clay tiles and its wood burning stove. Maria was excited to finally have such a fine home of her own, and just in time too! This morning, she had been very sick, and she knew with certainty she carried Cortes’s child. That evening, after she had cooked them dinner, they settled into a soft couch in front of the fireplace. Maria told him of the impending child, and Cortes almost wept with joy.  She was overjoyed with the amount of excitement he displayed. That night, he took her to their bedroom, their very own, and they properly christened their new home. The baby would come in the spring, a little boy named Pedro. Maria was so busy with the pregnancy and the child, and her love for her growing family, she had simply pushed the thought of marriage out of her mind. After all, Cortes was here with her, her son was here, and they lived together in the same house. That was as good as married.

Five years passed. Maria bore another son to Cortes, Julio. He was an miniature copy of his father. Both boys were so good, with the sweet temperament they got from their mother. Of course they were handsome; how could they not be with two such beautiful parents? One day, Cortes came home with a heavy sigh, and dropped onto their sofa. Maria came out of the kitchen.

“What is it, mi amor?” she asked him.

Cortes looked up at her, and there were tears in his eyes. Cortes never cried. She sat down next to him swiftly and took his hand. “Tell me!”

“It’s my father, mi Corazon,” he told her. “Father wants me to marry.”

Maria smiled. Finally! She thought. Then she wondered why Cortes was so sad. “What makes you so sad about marrying me? Don’t we already have a home and two beautiful boys? It’s just a ceremony. A formality at this point.”

Cortes hung his head. “No. It’s not. Maria, my father wants me to marry the daughter of the man who owns the neighboring ranch. I have agreed. It is what’s best for both families.”

Maria could feel the warmth leaving her face, then her neck, her hands, her feet. It was as if her heat had suddenly withdrawn all blood from her body to the center of her chest. She was shocked, hurt, then…angry. She raged. She threw items from the mantle at Cortes. She berated him, accused him of lying all these years, told him he had ruined here. What decent man in town would have her now? Or her two bastard children? Cortes tried to call her, tried to put his arms around her. He still loved her, and he would come as often as he could, but he couldn’t stand against his father’s wishes… Finally, Cortes walked out of the house, and left Maria weeping on the floor. Her two little boys came in, wide-eyed at the argument they had just heard. There had never been an argument in the house before. They stood, looking at their mother, unsure what to do next.

Maria raised her head to gaze at her sons. On her neck, the silver locket glinted a little in the firelight. She touched it with her hands, then said, “Come, boys. Let’s take a walk by the river.”

“Pero, mama,” Pedro said, “It’s almost dark. We might fall in!”

It was dark outside, but the moon would be full and shining that night. Again touching the locket, Maria was calm and collected, not a trace of fury or tears lingered on her face. She held out both hands, and her boys took them. They walked through the back door to the banks of the river. As the sky’s color deepened, and the moon’s pale light bathed the short grass near the water’s edge, Maria sang a low, sad song. She sat down with her boys, and had them lay their heads in her lap. Still singing, the little children fell asleep. In the silver light, when she knew they were asleep, she pinched their little noses and mouths shut. They didn’t struggle at first, but as their need to draw breath increased, so did their struggles. But Maria was stronger. Soon, their struggles ceased, as did their breaths. One by one, she picked up her babies, and tossed them into the river. When they were both gone, she threw herself in after them.

The next day, townspeople found the body of a woman, dressed in white, with long black hair, on the banks of the river downstream from Rancho Azul. They recognized Maria. Thinking she had been dead for five years, no one would touch her body. No one wanted to touch a ghost… They ran and left her there. Seasons passed, and nature took away what was left of Maria’s body. Even to this day, when there is a full, silvery moon overhead, townspeople can hear a woman’s screams and cries from that area of the river. If one is still enough, you can almost make out, “Mis hijos!!! A donde estan, mis hijos!” And Cortes, who so often visits the abandoned cottage where he knew so much happiness, will look into a mirror before bed, and he hears a woman scream, “Look! Look what you made me do!” He sees nothing, and he wonders what ever happened to his beautiful Maria and his two precious sons.

And La Llorona wanders the nights, clothed in white, weeping for the lost should of her two children, and crying for the girl who never listened to reason or instinct, who never knew the story of her grandmother's foolish love for the owner of a Rancho in a neighboring town...