2 Bonus Chapter

Chris stepped out into the hot overbearing sun. Sweat streaked her skin. She knew she would need a thorough cleanse that night. Her father had insisted that she join him and her mother on this trip. She hadn't seen her father's family in a long time. They lived in a small town in Southern Mexico. The beach wasn't far, but that didn't make the stay there any more interesting. They could drive to a beach in the U.S. if they wanted. Besides, Chris spoke little Spanish, something she knew her grandmother resented her father for. Her entire family, which wasn't small, spoke a total of five words in English. Conversation wasn't something easy when she came here.

She'd come here with her parents before, but those times could be counted on a single hand. Her father and mother made more trips than her with their church. They built houses for those less privileged and passed out bibles. Chris had gone with them a time or two, but once she'd reached her last year in middle school, had made her stand against going on anymore missions. It wasn't that she was ungrateful or that she didn't want to help those in need. She did. But, the people and their situations always made her feel uncomfortable. Having someone thank you more than once can only feel good to a narcissist, in her opinion.

So, she'd stopped coming. Though, she knew that next year her parents would probably push for her to start joining them again. Even if her father honestly just wanted to help people, he also knew that missionary work looked good on a college application. Chris often wondered if he maybe used these missions to help him feel better about himself and his career, lawyers weren't known for their clean conscience.

Chris sighed as she shifted her position to stand beneath the minimal shade the tabebuia rosea that stood next to her grandmothers house offered. The heat of the midday sun caused her to want to retreat to the inside of the home, though she chose not to. Inside, the temperature was just as high, but without the occasional breeze. She sighed as she found a spot beneath the tree to sit. Her parents were inside speaking with one of her many cousins. Chris knew that, while there weren't many people there at the moment, come nightfall, there would be more than enough to fill the inside of her grandmother's house.

Chris sat for a time beneath the tree, trying her best to make due with the minimal protection from the sun the tree gave. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and lifted it above her head, trying to get a signal. There was none. She didn't actually expect there to be, her grandmother's house was out in the middle of nowhere. It'd be a miracle if she could get any signal within ten miles.

As Chris stuffed her phone back into her shorts, silently lamenting about the fact that she wouldn't be able to call or contact her friends throughout this trip. She stood, about to return to the stifling heat of the indoors. As she reached the doorway, she heard a wind chime sound. It's melodic clinking sent a shiver over her body. She turned, looking for the source. She did not remember her grandmother's home having any wind chimes hanging outside. Her eyes slowly traveled across the front of the home, searching.

Not entirely unexpected, she did not find the source of the strange soothing melody. She strained her ears, trying to hear it once again, but could not. Chris stood in the doorway, tapping her finger against the chipped paint, before turning and heading inside.

That night, Chris's prediction of a full house came true. Cousins and aunts and great aunts and uncles and great uncles and second cousins and even a few third cousins filled the small home of her grandmother almost to bursting. Her grandmother and aunts and great aunts all spent much of the afternoon and evening cooking. Some brought food with them, they were the ones that had come late. Others came early and helped her grandmother cook an extensive amount of food. Even with the amount of people, Chris was unsure they could eat everything that had been prepared. Her worries were pointless, however. It seemed her family members were prone to over eat. The night wore on as they ate outside, there wasn't enough room inside for everyone to sit comfortably. A picnic table was brought from behind the home, in the overgrown back yard, to the front of the house, beneath the same tree she had found shelter from the blazing sun the day before.

She couldn't keep up with the conversation for the most part. She would catch a word here or there, but unless they spoke clearly and slowly, she knew it was a hopeless endeavor to try to understand them. Her father was drinking. He and Chris's uncle were in a heated conversation, though it seemed they weren't arguing and were in fact agreeing with each other with fervor. Chris's aunts would occasionally come to her and say something about how pretty she was. Of course, they also threw in that she needed to put on some weight and fill out in order to catch any boys attention. At least, Chris was pretty sure that was what they were saying. There were many times when she only caught a few familiar words as they spoke with her. She was pretty sure one of her aunts started berating her mother about not having more children at one point. While another chimed in to help with the first in their attempt to convince her to try for another.

Chris, for the most part, sat quietly by as the music played and some of her family danced drunkenly. She enjoyed the evening, though she wasn't able to communicate quite as much as she wished. As the night wore on and some of her family began to head home, beneath the low music, Chris once again heard that same melodic tone of a wind chime. She looked around once again, even asked a few of her aunts. They, however seemed unable to hear the wind chime. It sounded once and as Chris tried to listen for it again, it was gone.

After midnight, the rest of her family that was able to, left. a few of her cousins decided to stay the night, they were too drunk to drive and her father was adamant that they not try to get home until morning. As everyone settled down, Chris's father headed to bed, and Chris was left with her mother at the table.

Chris's mother sat beside her and hugged her before kissing her on her forehead and heading inside to sleep. Chris watched her mother go, and prepared to follow her in. The heat from the day before and the excitement of the evening had worn her out. She stood and stretched as she prepared to retire to her temporary bed.

As she walked, she once again heard the chiming of the wind chime. In her tired state, Chris only half acknowledged the sound as she reached the door of her grandmother's home. As she made to step inside, however, she heard it again. This time was different. The sound before was as if it were far away, as if it was intangible. This time, if felt more...real. It was crisper and louder.

Chris paused once again in her grandmother's doorway. She turned her head cautiously and slowly, as if afraid she would scare away the sound. Afraid that if it knew she were looking, it would once again go silent. As if to prove her right, the sound did not return. Instead, only silence greeted her. But, she did not give up like the times before. Her curiosity seemed to ignite as she stepped away from the door and began walking around the front of her grandmother's home. The night was still warm, the humidity bringing an uncomfortable moistness to the air. Chris reached the edge of her grandmother's home, staring into the darkness behind. While her grandmother had a porch light on the front of her house, there was no such light in the back yard. The trees and brush and weeds were over grown, as if it had never been cleared away as long as the old woman had lived there. Some of the plants and shrubbery were dead and brittle, others were alive and thriving.

Chris stared into the darkness, her heart pounding fiercely. She had never been afraid of the dark, not really. She knew that a fear of the dark was actually a fear of the unknown that it represented. People were afraid of anything they couldn't see or understand. Chris stood, stroking the brown and brittle branches of a partially dead bush as she tried to calm her heart. Finally, she took a deep breath and stepped forward, towards the back yard. A sliver of excitement jumped forth, burrowing itself into her chest. She shook her head, attempting to calm her nerves. With each step she felt that strange excitement build, then subside, alternating between almost bursting, then dulling to the point that it was almost entirely gone.

Slowly, Chris came to the back of the house. Her eyes were adjusted to the darkness, though it did little to help her see. The wild back yard was as over grown as she expected. Even as she stood there, both the dead and the living plants seemed to be trying to pull her in, to their depths. Their branches hooked onto her clothes and lightly scratched against her skin as a slight breeze blew by. The silence was broken only by their leaves rubbing against each other. The sound reminded Chris of a wave, slowly and delicately sliding against the sand of a beach. Chris's excitement dulled as she stood on the edge of the foliage. Her fear returned. She clenched her teeth as she stood there, staring out into the shifting shadows. She decided in a split moment to return to the front of the house. As she turned, a light caught her eye.

There, on the edge of the darkness, a line of light seemed to be standing tall. Chris shifted her position, her curiosity once again taking hold. As she stepped further over, trying to peer across the heavy foliage to get a better view, Chris found that she could move further in than she'd originally believed. She expected the branches to stop her movements as she pressed against them. They didn't. As she took step after step, she felt it unusual that she had not yet hit the brush in front of her. Looking down, she found that she had in fact walked into the foliage. Turning to see behind her, with an uneasiness coming over her, she saw she was entirely surrounded by the outstretched limbs of the brush. They blocked her path back out and forward. Confusion covered her expression, though it did not last, as the sound of the wind chime once again drew her attention. It was closer. Looking up, Chris found that the sound seemed to be coming from that thin line of vertical light.

As if in a trance, Chris once again stepped forward. The brush around her did not hinder her movements. As if affected by some invisible force, it shifted as she moved forward, just missing her as she walked by. The movements were subtle and slight, but each time, Chris found that nothing kept her from the far off light. It seemed, however, that Chris did not notice the movements of the brush around her. Her gaze was entirely fixated on that light as she approached. Her thoughts were both chaotic, and yet entirely still. As if every train of thought first came into her mind, then was whisked away by the slight breeze she could feel against her skin. Slowly, Chris reached the light. She found, as she came out from her trance, that she had crossed the sea of gnarled brambles once again without resistance.

There, in front of her was not some celestial light that the heavens had allowed to shine in the dark of the night. Instead, she found a small structure. A cabin, though it seemed small enough that it could not contain more than a single room. Perhaps a shed would have been a more fitting description for it. Though, it did not feel like a shed. It did not have that musty and dirty smell that usually assaulted one as they stepped up to a shed. Instead, the strange glow of the light of the cracked door gave off a warm and gentle scent of dried herbs and just below that, the scent of flowers. Chris leaned in toward the crack in the door and breathed a deep breath, closing her eyes in contentedness as a feeling of safety washed over her.

As she she stood, marveling in this find, the door creaked open further, ever so slightly. Chris's eyes opened, afraid that she had been caught somewhere she wasn't supposed to be. Her eyes searched the crack in the door, searching for who is was that caught her.

There, in the crack of the door, a woman stood across the room. Chris was startled at first, as anyone would be if they were caught peering into someone's room, or home. Her nerves instantly calmed, however, as she realized she recognized the woman in the room. Without further hesitation, Chris pushed the heavy wooden door open. It swung without resistance and without sound.

"Tata." Chris spoke as she stepped over the threshold. She pushed the door behind her, though did not close it entirely.

Chris's grandmother stood, a string of green vines in one hand and a triangular stone in the other. She spoke to Chris in Spanish, though Chris was only able to under stand a handful of words. The terms dormir and madre and padre were more familiar to her, so she assumed her grandmother was asking if her parents were sleeping.

Chris smiled and nodded. Her grandmother gave a wry smile and shook her head, causing Chris to wonder if she had misunderstood her grandmother's question. They stood for a moment, before Chris's attention was diverted to the room's interior.

All around, herbs hung to dry. Candles sat, their flames casting a warm glow to the room, causing benevolent shadows to dance across the walls. A table sat in the center of the room, it was covered in ash and herbs and flowers. A wooden bowl filled with water sat in front of her grandmother, the majority of the vine she was holding submerged below the water's surface. Chris's gaze seemed to dance from one aspect of the room to another. Though she did not entirely understand it, she felt there was something special about this room.

Chris's grandmother watched as Chris stepped around the room, taking everything in. She knew that Chris would not understand her if she tried to explain each thing within the room, or why she had come to find it. She always regretted that her son had not taught Chris more of their families culture and language, though never more than that moment. Her grand daughter was a suitable student to learn beneath her. If she was not, then she never would have found this room and entered it so easily this night.

As Chris reached out and began touching the sparkling stones on a low shelf, she heard movement from behind her. Turning her attention, she found her grandmother had approached her, a reserved look in her eyes. She once again spoke in Spanish. Chris tried to understand her, though this time, she was unable to find any familiar words within, other than padre. She shook her head and apologized.

"I'm sorry." Never in Chris's life had she ever wished more than that moment that she could understand her families native language. Her father had neither cared to teach her, nor cared if she learned. Cultural heritage was not something that was entirely important to him. So, as she did not make an effort to learn the language herself, she did not know much of the Spanish language.

Chris's grandmother gave a silent smile, then reached behind her neck, unclasping a necklace. She held it out to Chris.

Chris gingerly grasped the necklace in her hand and was about to protest, before her grandmother turned from her to stand once again beside the table. As she did, she pointed to the door and spoke two of the only English words she knew.

"Go. Sleep."

Chris hesitated, the necklace in her hand, before silently nodding and heading back out the door. The journey back from the cabin was much more arduous than it had been to reach the cabin. The brush and branches snagged onto her clothes and scratched her skin, as if trying to keep her from leaving. Fear gripped her at that moment. She knew it was only plant life that stood between herself and her grandmothers house, but her unease grew with each limb and vine that snagged on her, as if attempting to stop her. Halfway through the over grown brush, a grouping of thorns from a bush tangled around her arm, causing it to sting and bleed. She cried out as she tried to unwrap it, but the vine seemed to have somehow tangled around her arm. Her breathing grew uneven and panic began to rise within her. As she stood, struggling, a strange and ethereal language filled the air.

Chris stopped, looking around for the source of the unfamiliar language. It caused her hair to stand on end and a shiver to roll down her spine. For whatever reason, the language seemed both welcoming and threatening. As she stood, searching around her for the source, she felt a loosening of the vine around her wrist. Looking down, she found that the vine had loosened around her flesh. Shaking her arm slightly, the vine fell to her feet and lay lifeless and nonthreatening. Chris's unease slowly subsided as she gingerly stepped further away from the vine and through the rest of the tangled brush. This time, the limbs did not reach out and snag her, instead seeming to slowly and gently fall away from her with each step she took. Still, she was careful to try to avoid any that seemed as if it would snag her clothes and skin, until, finally, she made it through, to her grandmother's house.

Chris stood for a moment, taking a deep breath. She glanced over her arm and found that a few streaks of blood had fallen from the cuts on her arm. In her hand, she held her grandmother's necklace. Her necklace. She she lifted it to look it over, the wind picked up, more than it had all night, or even the day before, blowing her hair back and causing a cold chill to rush through her. She wrapped her arms around herself, glancing back at the cabin she'd found her grandmother in previously. As she did, the wind blew, carrying with it a slight howl that seemed to form a single word.

Bruja.