The Mammoth Book Of Vampire Stories Written By Women

Her mother, her father — he looked tired always — her grandmother before her hair had turned all white She stood with them, her mother's hands on her shoulders, in the square of the village. The square, with the church at one end, was crowded with friends and neighbours, other relatives. "It is a feast day," her grandmother said that morning, "el Dia de los Muertos, the day when the people pray to all the saints for all the dead." How can you pray to all the saints, Remedios wondered, because there are so many? Her grandmother said the day would be filled with prayers. The mass had been long, with all the names of the dead read out by the padre, many together for the poor families, and individual masses for the families that could pay more. The procession from the church where they had just attended the tiring masses was under way, moving around and around the square, the prayers chant-like, led by the padre, with the people echoing and responding to his words. The pungent scent of burning incienso filled the air, and the altar boys rang bells as they followed slowly behind the priest, while others sprinkled dark purple flower petals before the procession.

Remedios sucked on the guagua de pan that came from the basket of Dia de los Muertos bread her grandmother had baked that week — the little bread men and women representing the dead. This one had red sugar eyes and bright green hair and lips, and she wore a colourful dress. Esperanza, her grandmother called this one — Remedios's mother's dead sister, Esperanza, the one her sister would be been named for. "Her name means 'hope'," her grandmother said. She stuffed little Esperanza into her pocket to place later on the altar in their home, an altar that held the large picture of Sainte Marianita de Jesus, and many many candles. It would also hold some of the flowers they brought back home from the cemetery.

Remedios felt hungry, and wondered when they could return home and eat the good, thick locro soup, and drink the hot purple jelly-like colada morada that her mother only made for the Day of the Dead feast.

The colourful pageant lasted a long time, with large wreaths carried back and forth through the square, with little stampas of the saints, and prayer cards for the dead affixed to the red and yellow flowers. The padre held a big banner with a picture of the Virginsita , and two other priests carried an enormous one of Santa Marianita de Jesus, who gave her life to save the city from earthquakes, both images decorated with glitter and seashells and many flowers. Remedios felt sleepy and sat on the hard ground, leaning against her grandmother's legs.

And then, when she opened her eyes, the light had faded from the sky and the night descended over them like a dark figure swooping across the heavens to stifle all life She realized they were now in the cemetery.

Here, the home of the dead. Stacked in cement drawers, one atop the other, four and five high. Many dead but little space, her mother said. She stayed seated on the ground before the graves of their ancestors while the adults placed beautiful white death lilies, and floral wreaths against the graves and behind the marble plaques that bore the names of the departed. The air became thick with the scent of flowers, and alive with the hum of chanting, and Remedios felt drowsy.

"Bring them!" the padre called. Suddenly, the night had become black, with only the light of the stars overhead. Dogs! So many! Where had they all come from? Hardly any of their neighbours could afford a dog. These animals roamed the streets, wild, in packs, competing with the people for food. How had they been lured here? It was the food scraps; Remedios had never seen so many dogs in one place, nor so much food handed over to them.

Much time passed with heated discussions as the men observed the dogs and argued in a friendly way: which animal was strongest, which the weakest? Would the large one be more determined than the second largest? And this little white one, it showed aggression — perhaps he would grow to become the dominant male that mated! Finally, finally, one was selected. A she-dog not so small, with brown fur, but she seemed to lack energy. The weakest, her grandmother said. " Someter ," her uncle said, telling the dog to submit.