El Dia De Los Muertos…The Day of the Dead, a holiday near and dear to my family lineage and always a celebration that lasted well into the night. My father once told me that the dead were all around us, that their souls looked into ours and helped us find what we needed to become those who we ought to be. My mother held the firm belief that those who died wandered our world as guardian angels, protecting us from evil, guiding us through the world without missing a beat. Together, my parents taught me that every living soul transitions to death as a form of wisdom and collective gathering of intuitive knowledge.
My nana passed when I was sixteen, a massive influence on my parents and a sweet woman to boot. Her firm hand, brilliant knowledge and stern belief in family had my envy and respect. She was one of my biggest role models, losing her was like losing a portion of myself. My grandfather followed suit soon after, an Alzheimer’s victim who, without my nana’s care, lapsed into a spiraling downfall and died within a few months. Come El Dia De Los Muertos, we were at their graves, lighting candles and eating delicious food to celebrate their lives and wise eyes watching over us.
At twenty, tragedy struck…my father and mother were killed in a car accident…a drunk driver swerved and forced them off the road at 85 MPH, their small Toyota stood no chance against the light post; they had ascended to the heavens above within seconds of the accident…according to the officer who had called me, the coroner confirmed they had died on impact.
I was alone, and horribly so, but I didn’t want to wander the world wishing the past to change, willing my parents back to me…willing the dead to rebirth themselves into my life. Instead, I spent my time looking to construct my life, to form my path in a way my parents would have wanted, the way my nana and grandfather would have wanted…I cried countless nights after my parents passed, but come El Dia, I was smiling and celebrating the knowledge and life they had given me.
I earned a degree in Criminology and Criminal Psychology and started work at a low rung in the Los Angeles County Juvenile Correctional Detention Facility, other known as Juvy Hall. I worked there for years as a guard before bumping upwards to an actual Prison out in the Arizona Desert. My goal was to become warden or perhaps a director at one point, but I was not interested in police work. I wanted to rehabilitate those who had gotten off track, after all…the easiest way to touch a life, is when they have hit rock bottom..and for many of these prisoners, this was rock bottom.
I prayed every night, sending my praise to the heavens above and calling on the support and guidance of my lost loved ones, telling them of my plans and endeavors, wishing to help ole’ Brolley who was on Death Row for a double homicide, or to change Albert Lynchman’s ideals and help him find a better life outside of the prison walls…I was genuinely concerned for these prisoners and rightfully so…but one night, my concern vanished…my humanity disappeared…my care…just…gone….
I awoke that fateful day to the sound of birds chirping at my window, it was 2:55PM, a late day shift was coming my way and I was planning to work out, shower and eat before then. I dressed quickly, headed to the gym and returned two hours later ready for a quick shower. Food was almost a routine to me, no longer enjoyable, but more of a meaningless task that filled in time. I jumped in my car and headed down the freeway towards the prison for my late-night assignment of guard duty in Cell Block D, also known as Death Row. As I approached the prison, the sun was setting in the night sky, the clouds glowed a brilliant purple as the twilight set in. The guard at the door smiled at me and did the standard checkin procedure before waving me into staff parking.
The night shift was always easy, less guards, prisoners are all asleep so less chance of a riot…hardest part was watching them all without nodding off yourself. I was on block patrol that night, dubbed so by the assistant warden who randomly chose duties nightly. The lucky bastard on monitor duty was a guy by the name of Patrick Lopez, a fun-loving guy with a passion for soccer and a lovely wife named Suzanne. I nodded at him as I walked into the locker room.
After changing and storing my personal belongings, I stepped into the armory, a room with a single man who distributed weapons based on stations: the lesser patrols like Block A and Block B were given clubs and tear gas, while Block C was given tasers. Block D was the only block allowed firearms, only because of the dangerous nature of the criminals we were guarding. He slipped me a 9mm silently and had me sign the form stating I understood my duties and would accept the firearm as a tool, only to be used in the most hostile of situations.
I stepped onto the live floor, the inmates had just returned from dinner and were being secured in their cells. A whistle blew and they retreated one step back, behind their doors, allowing them to close before pushing their hands through the opening, allowing guards to remove their shackles. Old Man Murphey was at the last of the row, an African American man with a deep voice and a kind heart. According to most, he took the fall for his youngest son, confessing to a murder he did not commit so the kid could reform his life…his kindness was soon repaid as his son shuffled down the aisle in front of him, headed for Block C for grand theft auto and assault on a peace officer. The prisoners respected Murphey and he them. He never spoke badly of another man and had the same ideals as I did: that every man had some good in him and was worth redeeming.
I personally walked down the row, unshackling all of them, hearing their grunts of thanks as they slicked into the dark corner of their cell and sat down to read, smoke or pass out. When I reached Murphey, he smiled at me, his grey hair was close-cropped and his face was wearing with age. His eyes lit up as he said a swift hello. I unshackled him and he offered me a stern handshake and asked me a couple questions about my life and I did the same for him. I turned to walk away when he said something that made me freeze on spot…
“Oh she’s a comin’ tonight by the way…you know midnight marks the day of the dead…e’ry year she comes to visit and takes one with her…lucky bastard gets to go to the good place while the rest of us rot in this hell hole…never know who’s it gonna be, but it’s always one of ‘em. She’s a sweetie…as long as you don’t cross her path, or happen to be the chosen one…” His deep voice trailed off, echoing on the block and permeating my mind. I had forgotten it was the Dia…I smirked quietly and said a prayer to my nana. “Now don’t you think for a second she wont pay you a visit Mr. Noriega, she’s a coming and she always says a nice hello to those who pay close enough attention to the dead…”
The “she” he was talking about was a prisoner superstition. Every year on the Dia, one of the prisoners would either escape or die…it was a habitual occurrence, something they filled in with the story of some young girl who had been the warden’s niece back a few wardens ago…she was twelve and had come to visit her uncle at work on the Day of the Dead when a riot broke out…a Death Row inmate by the name of Daniel Terronte found her, lured her into his cell with the promise of safety, raped and killed her without a second thought. It was then said that because of Terronte’s actions, a curse fell upon the prison. Someone so pure was murdered, her innocence shattered by such a wicked man, his punishment was severe, he was thrown into solitary…into the awaiting hands of three other inmates who promptly beat him to death…but the damage was done. Now, according to legend, every year, she visits the prison at midnight and claims the soul of one either very lucky…or very unlucky prisoner, he or she vanishes without a trace…if they’re lucky…if they’re unlucky, they’re usually found in a pool of their own blood.
Today was the 45th anniversary of her death, a monumental day for the prison folk, and all of them were scared shitless…we could use this to our advantage to keep them under our thumb for the night, to keep them in line and out of trouble.
I strolled back to the monitor room and told Lopez of the news. He smirked and told me that he had a little plan to mess with the prisoners and keep even those who didn’t believe a single word on their toes. I inquired further, but he just smirked and calmly said “you’ll see…”
I was not fond of surprises…least not ones in the night on such a day as this…I swore under my breath and began my patrols, hoping to avoid whatever festivities Lopez had in mind. Everything was normal, cool and collective…until 11:59PM…
I was completing my third round of the block, shining my flashlight in the low lighting to check in the cells. All of the men were sound asleep, their individual cell lights off. A few snored and mumbled as they slept, but other than that, it was silent on the block. I paused for a moment in front of the monitor room and stretched when I heard it…a girlish giggle..very subtle, but definitely something horribly out of place here. I glanced around in surprise, hoping to find the source was one of the prisoners fucking with me, but no one stirred. I shined my light around and shrugged, my mind was playing tricks on me…It came again, this time louder, echoing off the block’s walls…some of the men stirred at the sound, groggy from sleep.
“The fuck was that?” I heard one say. “Yeah man, what the fuck was that noise…was that a girl?” The voices began to sound panicked…this was definitely something they weren’t expecting. The giggle came again, louder yet, echoing through the rooms. “Yo homes! You gonna look around or just stand there looking pretty?”
I shook the immediate shock away and started to wander the cell blocks, looking for the source of the giggling. The same girl’s voice came again, “Eenie meenie miney mo…catch a tiger…by his toe…” it was followed by a giggle…I looked around, seeing the faces of the now horribly harassed prisoners…they looked about as surprised as I felt.
I slowly made my way along the corridor, shining my light around, listening to their hushed voices speculate about who was going to be the chosen one this time…I heard her giggles echoing through the cells, bouncing off the walls and echoing back towards me. I slowly shuffled down the hallway and turned into the main intersection when I saw her…
My blood drained from my face as I stared at the translucent image of a young girl sitting cross-legged in the hallway. She was playing with what looked like a pony and was making galloping noises with her mouth. Her long hair flowed down her back and bounced in curls as she giggled. The few prisoners around this area were horrified, pinning themselves away from the bars, praying…She stood slowly and laughed aloud again.
“I need someone to play with!” Her girlish voice toyed with our minds; even the hardest of criminals was silently shaking with fear…I looked at Brolley who was in the cell next to me, he had pissed himself…a puddle formed at his feet. She faced me, but didn’t even acknowledge my existence as she began to stroll down the block, pointing at different men. She neared me, and I slowly reached for my gun while asking myself if I could actually harm a ghost with a 9mm….probably not…
She was a foot from me, pointing and shaking her head at each prisoner…nearing me…slowly…she looked at each one with a contemplative look before saying “no…not him…” under her breath, though it echoed through the block…every man trying to maintain his dignity by staying silent…she was now within an inch of me, so close I could feel the chill in the air as she walked…right through me? Not even so much as a notice…she was on the other side of me, talking and chattering away, pointing at the next inmate, shaking her head and so forth.
I stood there for what seemed like an hour, checking to make sure I was still alive…before realizing a spirit had just passed through me and I hadn’t felt a God-damn thing. I shook off the fear and rounded on my toes, marching my way down the cell block after her…She was nearing Murphy’s cell, her hand outstretched. As she looked into his cell, her eyes lit up.
“That one! That one! Play with me mister!” Her voice bounced from every corner of the room…I approached her calmly and reached out to touch her shoulder, but passed again right through her. Murphy calmly stood, shaking his head and mumbling something about respecting the dead…I had no idea what he was talking about, but before I would say a word, his cell door opened itself and he slowly approached us…
The clip-clop of his shoes echoed off all the walls, the scowl on his face said it all. The inmates around us called to him “Yo Murph..gonna miss you man!” and “Stairway to Heaven Mur!” But he seemed rather unimpressed. He just kept walking…slowly until he reached us.
He looked down at her, then up at me and reached forward towards my radio. He gripped it tight and pulled it free. I was stunned at his collective nature. He depressed the button, “Lopez, you always were an asshole…Stop fucking with things you don’t understand before they come back to bite you in the ass man…” The radio clicked for a moment and I heard it…laughter…a lot of it…Lopez’s prank…I had forgotten about it until Murphy just said something about it. That rat-bastard had got us good, and I was livid…I retrieved my radio from Murphy and pressed the button.
“Listen here you two-faced asshole! That wasn’t funny, you scared the living shit out of me..what if I had pulled the goddamn gun and fi-“ I couldn’t finish..the lights went out, replaced by red emergency lights…the hologram of the girl disappeared…silence filled the halls…the radio hissed with a discontent that filled the depths of my soul. “Okay seriously Lopez..you can stop the little joke now man…we’re on to you…”
Just then, I heard a loud BANG, and the doors to all the cells simultaneously opened…The hounds were free…well…sorta…they still had the filter stations to get through before they’d get out…but not a soul stirred…The bravest walked to the edge of their cell, looking around, but not a movement past there.
“God DAMNIT Lopez! Close the FUCKING doors man. You’re seriously messing with something you don’t understand…” The word understand echoed…but not because I had said it loud, but because the radio that had received it was right behind me…I looked up at Murphy in the red lights…his eyes filled with terror, his lip trembled and his calm, collective nature was replaced by an inability to move due to sheer terror…I slowly turned and looked at Lopez…
His body was levitating four inches from the ground, his limbs hung heavily and his head rolled around in a playful manner…his slack jawed mouth hung loose and a trickle of blood came from his freshly slit throat. A wheeze of air escaped his mouth as his body crumpled to the floor in front of us. We stared at it in silence…it was the most horrifying feeling to see a room full of serial killers, rapists, murderers and heartless criminals back away, tails between their legs. A few whimpered in their cells, giving up dignity and cracking up into hysterics.
I reached slowly for my gun and unsnapped it. I heard the wheezing from the body for a moment longer until silence…the blood came faster, pooling at his feet. I played my light across his body and stopped on his face…two black shoes stood on either side of his face, white stockings splashed with fresh blood came from those shoes…as I slowly moved the light up, a white dress, torn and violated by the hands of a monster of a man came in ragged strips, a touch of a stain of blood here and there, the blue ribbon around her torso was held together by strings that had not yet met the destructive hands of the bastard man. Her skin was white…so pale I could almost see the ice water running through her veins, her lips were a dull purple, only the cold kiss of death ran on her face…cuts and bruises formed around her mouth and cheeks, her eyes were bloodshot and yellowed, the irises had a touch of blood amongst their otherwise blue existence. Her hair was dark brown, the one friendly curls were frayed, matted to her face and pulled in rough ways around her. She stood in front of us for a long while, a prison shank in her hand.
Not a soul dared move, the light shined in her face, and she stared at me, a deep disgust in her eyes. A few coughed and shuttered in fear, but no one besides Murphy and I dared stand in front of her. The light shone on her, she breathed in deeply, the smell of death filled the room around her, a stench only described as “horrid” by one of the prisoners. She slowly moved forward, stepping right at me, her feet clicking heavily against the floor, her face in a deep scowl. She stared at me, her eyes penetrating my very soul as she stepped along the floor, past Lopez’s body, the blood soaking into her shoes as she passed. She left a trail of footprints as she walked slowly towards me…her face gaunt and horrifying in the flashlight’s beam. She stopped a foot from me, looked up at me, her breathing ragged and heavy…I looked into her eyes and she into mine.
Amidst the sinful nature of the men around me, their collective stance of this situation hung somewhere in the balance of “kill me now” and “fuck this”, though no one dared move a muscle for fear she would end them as quickly as she had Lopez. She must have stared into my soul for what seemed like ages before she made a sudden move that horrified me to the core. Her mouth unhinged, her jaw dropping wide open, revealing sharp teeth, her eyes changed from blue to yellow and she shrieked a foul sound that, to this day, haunts my nightmares. The light flickered out and I felt a cold breeze around me, her voice filling the cell block.
It was a lot rougher than I’d expected, girlish, but with a demonic twist…dark…horrifying…“Damned mortals, sinners and disgrace of the world, you call yourselves men but you are only dogs. The world could lose yet one of you and feel no pain…so I offer you this choice: pick amongst you the one whose life is valued the least and give him as sacrifice or I will come back and take two away with me. You have until the peak of the hour comes…Choose wisely!”
The lights flickered back on slowly….the hum of electricity filled the air, the inmates glanced at each other across the halls and slowly moved forwards. I re-holstered my gun and opened my mouth to speak when all hell broke loose. Men charged at each other, screaming swears and profane hatred at each other. Some attacked each other while others demanded I give up my gun to send her a sacrifice. I looked at Murphy and he shook his head and slowly sauntered into his cell, leaving me in the chaotic mix of brutality and unhindered human nature driven by fear.
An inmate by the name of Hugh Preston attacked me, his fist driving itself deep into my face, I fell hard against the concrete as he dove on top of me, swinging harder and harder, drawing blood as my consciousness began to slip. I felt his knuckles against my jaw, his knee digging into my chest…I stopped moving long enough for him to assume I was out cold and he reached for my side, unsnapping my gun when I caught him off guard. My fist was a lot harder than his, my technique more refined, I caught the fucker under his jaw and lay him out cold with one solid punch.
I tried to sit up, but the pain of what felt like a broken rib was far too much. I winced with the pain and reached for my unsnapped gun, pulling it quickly, changing the clip and firing a blank into the air. Silence filled the room, and everyone jumped back. I forced myself up as much as I could, using the cell behind me as a support as I stood. I changed my clip back to live rounds and re-holstered my weapon.
“Alright listen up…We have to be more co-operative here…I know none of us want to die…but we’re going to have to figure this shit out…she’s coming back for us in less than fifteen minutes and when she comes, she’ll kill two of us…so we have to decide…do we want to play roulette and let her pick…or do we pick someone and HUMANELY take them out?” The men stared at each other, fear in their eyes and began to mumble amongst themselves…no one wanted to toy with that girl…no doubt her method of death was going to be brutal…but then again, no one wanted to die at all…so we had reached an impasse. For the next twelve minutes, they talked amongst themselves and bickered…a few fights broke out, but no one came forward to volunteer.
As the seconds ticked on, the clock was getting louder and louder…the time was drawing to a close, we were running out of time, and these men only had two answers to the solution: fighting, and telling me I should shoot myself so they could survive…My hope in humanity dwindled, my heart sunk as I prayed to my nana for guidance…it looked like I had a very small chance of surviving this night…most of the men were convinced that I should be the one to take the fall and a few began to move in on me. They formed a small group around me, closing in…I reached for my gun and pulled it quickly when a loud bang was heard from across the hall…
We all froze…the echo of the gunshot permeated the air…the group around me stopped suddenly and looked in curiosity…the many others who had taken to arguing had grown, yet again, silent…I lowered my weapon and forced my way through the crowd, walking towards the sound of the shot which had come from Murphy’s cell….
No…no….I looked in and saw the lifeless body of the old man with his skull cap blown off, Lopez’s firearm was at his side, a note clutched in his hand, now dotted in blood. He lay at my feet, lifeless just as the cold chill returned to the room.
The whispers of the prisoners faded to the back of my mind as I stared at the only man I could definitely have called a friend. He was the closest thing I had to one, and definitely someone I envied deeply…I felt his death immediately, the sorrow filling my heart…followed by dread when I heard silence…
I knew she was there long before I stood, her yellowed eyes pierced my soul…her ragged breathing was all too familiar to me by now…I was kneeling by Murphy and I felt her hand close in around my shoulder…her silence told me she understood…I must have stayed there for an hour…her hand left my shoulder mere minutes after it had first found home there…
I heard their screams of terror behind me, I heard them run as she slaughtered each and every one of them…I felt no remorse for them….I had not a single care in the world besides the loss of a friend. Their throats were all cut by a prison shank that had long since destroyed the once so pure girl whose spirit was not fuzed with the evil that claimed her life.
Thirty seven men died that night, thirty five death row inmates, one asshole of a guard…and one man I can honestly call a friend. I carried his lifeless body to the morgue myself, closely followed by the girl…she looked at me and shook her head.
“It’s time to go James…It’s time to go…home is calling…”
James Noriega was found in the morgue, he was sobbing softly in the corner, talking to someone unseen by investigators. He was transported to a local medical center for mental evaluation.
Thirty-six bodies were recovered in Cell Block D, all with the same wound tract: a single, deep cut across the throat causing them to bleed out. The weapon was never found, though Noriega claims the spirit of a long-since deceased girl committed the murders…No record of her exists…or has ever existed…
Murphy’s body was recovered in the morgue, a note in his hand read as follows: “I may not be the best man for words, nor the best man for anything else really, but I am a man of pride and a man who seeks the good in all people. I believe that every man serves a purpose in life and that every decision made influences the lives of those around you. I have countless times given my all for someone else and been met with disappointment…now I give you my life Noriega…not because you are incapable of making the same sacrifice, but because you are worthy of the sacrifice…don’t disappoint me…”