Dia de los muertos: day of souls, the dead. The history of this celebration dating back to even Aztec times where the people of the villages and towns would honour the deceased. Today, offerings such as drink, sugar skulls (which have become infamous icons to represent the day to the Western civilizations) lain as gifts for the deceased. Since the first honourings this tradition has spread across the oceans, the seas, into countries across our world. Brasil, Dia de Finados, a public holiday where many thousands gather in churches and cemeteries. Spain, festivals and parades held in the streets and in the evening they pray with and for loved ones passed through the void.
This void is a realm few have lived beyond venturing, but we can come close to it. There are a great deal of people who have experienced closeness to death, even traveled outside of their physical bodies and seen themselves from a bystander's view. But, there is another way to transcend dimensions without having to become so ailed. So as the Mayans charted the stars over ground and in stone, we have unlocked a potential to travel with them. Astral dimensions exists imminently, and there is only a thin veil that separates us from the land of dragons, astral seas and creatures only thought of in ancient mythology by the likes of Greeks and Nords.
Shayenne discovered this one night, on the night of los Muertos.
The streets are stained with the paint powder and candy syrups of the days festivities, though not alone are the villagers this night. The presence of lost souls can be felt in every store, every home, each back alley where they walk the coloured streets to thank all the loved one of these passed physical lives after every walking soul sleeps. Almost every walking soul. Many muertos gather around this night, in an abandoned cavern in the further alley where they jest and trade stories of their demise; some have lost legs, some have lost arms, some even both through working mines or tending fields but all know now that they feel the sting to no more. "No need to worry about 'ghost' limb syndrome" one may jest, or another saying "feel not guilty about lending an arm any longer". They sip their spirit tonics and laugh, they are unaware of the young Shayenne still wandering the streets in search of them, picking pieces of smashed sugar skulls and uneaten pinata candy both as food for herself and offering should she find them. Lucky for her, tonight the astral energy was in her favour acting as guide through mother Lune to light the backstreets to the chilling yet oddly enticing laughter of the souls. So the by the beam of the moon down to the dark boarded tavern Shayenne found her way. Climbing through the splintered wood toward the unearthly illumination baring no shadow on the aged panels of the walls where portraits, posters and old awards one hung proudly, though since lay covering in blankets of dust. Taking in all the impossible details by the moonlight streaming through the cracks, Shayenne stayed crouched between the planks, frozen for an array of emotions not least curiosity at the gathering before her eyes. They glistened, oh how they glistened, these translucent beings cast in the blue hue. There were at least 30, all of many ages who were taking their own festivities and dancing the macabre. Some more playful souls having only recently passed animating skeletons around them to jingle and dance in an eerily comical fashion.
And then, the hiding spot picked out so well was cast in this light, as though Lune wished her present souls to look upon Shayenne. Breath was baited in waiting, by those who could breath, as all at once the children looked upon the girl in the darkened crevice. For that moment nobody was heard to move, nor speak, even the jingling of bones became dampened and then silent, the air thick with curiosity shared between living and deceased. Ever the innocence in life and in death, it was a child who made the first movement towards Shayenne. A small, crystalline hand reached toward the cold body, triggering a reaction of smiles spread in waves among the spirits gathered. At this moment, as the jingling of bones and festive voices began once more she now knew they would not be angered by her curiosity - mother Lune had given her blessing this night.
Climbing through the narrow gap, the satchel off offerings still in tact, Shayenne proceeded into the makeshift hall of joviality these souls had proclaimed theirs to reside. Setting down a single sugar skull still unscathed on the table, cheers resonated from various corners of the room and so the girl was hoisted by the animated bones of elders into the air above the heads. Children ran around and collected the pieces of sugar, sweets, and crushed flowers she tossed around the old tavern. The stars themselves opened up to her, and basked through the cracks in the shanty ceiling to bring spectrums of light of all colours into this wonderous abyss. Here the girl had truly dipped between a void, and experienced was so lucky few can - she followed here intuition, took a step of bravery, and now she was dancing with lives timeless as the dark matter in the heavens. Her grandfather hoisted the girl down from the corpse and gave her a key. "On behalf of the elders and children, of souls walking this land," he spoke, "we bid you entrance to this land to join the dead for an eve only by the moon quarters. For between these phases you will find no friends here, but foes who inhabit the darkness and balance the energies between the waxing and waning of our mother." Shayenne simply nodded, and tied the key around her neck on a piece of garnet ribbon her that held a protective charm from home, always kept with her in travels.
As twilight began the souls bid her well, and began to depart through the veil into the realm of abundance. All that was left behind was the glimmering dust of the sugar skull, and bones of the skeletons which had been returned to their resting place. The light dimly lead Shayenne back onto the streets and into town once more, where she quickly climbed up into the window of her home, took out a chipped piece of chalk and her journal from beneath her bed, and began to write down all her dreams of the night she knew she would never forget.
At the back of the journal, she carefully ascribed the warning her grandfather had given her, and beneath the words a diagram to follow the moon quarters, knowing to keep track of when she would visit the wise ones. Her dreams were filled with scents of sugar and stardust, images of the xylophone bones played by astral children, the touch of her grandfather's key and the mystic caress of the souls and mother Lune, guiding her even in slumber.