A/N: This was just an idea I needed to get out of my head. I thought of this one day and it wouldn't leave me alone. So here it is, and I'd really like some feedback on this. So please review.
La Guitarra del Diablo
Manny and Frida lounged on the sidewalk. Manny, who was in his El Tigre form, stood holding the head of the zombie leader, General Chapuza, under his arm. Manny and Frida were both laughing uncontrollably as they watched Chapuza's body flounder around looking for its missing head.
"So what should we do now Manny?" Frida asked indicating the separated head of the zombie leader.
"Hmm, maybe we should play kickball with his head." Manny suggested before letting out a laugh. He then twirled Chapuza's head around on his finger like a basketball.
"You wouldn't dare." Chapuza said after he stopped spinning. "Oh wouldn't we?" Manny said while grinning deviously at the disembodied head.
Chapuza began to sweat, imagining himself getting kicked back and forth between the two preteens. "Wait, wait, how would you children like to hear a story?" Chapuza asked with a pleading look on his face.
"Uh, hello what do we look like four year olds?" Frida replied offended. "Ah but you see this is no fairy tale, this story is real and it happened in Miracle City many, many years ago." Chapuza explained. Manny and Frida rolled their eyes, "Yeah, um, not really interested." Manny said in a bored tone. "Fine suit yourselves. I suppose the story of 'La Guitarra del Diablo' doesn't interest you." Chapuza said with a smirk. At that both Manny and Frida's eyes widened.
"Tell us, tell us, tell us!" They shouted in unison at Chapuza's head. "All right but first put me back onto my body." The preteens looked at each other for a second before shrugging. Manny then picked up Chapuza's head and plopped it down onto his body. "Much better." Chapuza said while stretching himself out. Chapuza then sat down on a nearby bench while Manny and Frida sat opposite him.
"The story I am about to tell you is very old and took place before I was even born." Chapuza explained. "Yeah, yeah, just get on with it." Frida said impatiently. General Chapuza rolled his eyes.
Hundreds of years ago when Miracle City was still just a small trading town, there lived a woman who could play the most beautiful songs on her guitar. Every day she would go down to the marketplace and play on her guitar. People passing by would become so entranced by her beautiful music that they would pay generous amounts of money to the woman. They did not just give her spare change; no they gave her full dollars that would otherwise be able to pay for handmade pottery or other valuable items. Yet the woman did not brag about her talent with the guitar and never asked for anything more than what the passing people gave her. The woman also never paid much attention to the comments she would receive including the ones that weren't about her music. The woman could be considered quite attractive as her olive skin tone and beautiful red dress would always garner some compliments from the men passing by. Yet she would always just nod her head and reply "muchas gracias" and then return to playing.
"Wait a second what was the woman's name?" Manny asked. "Yeah and why are you talking weird like that?" Added Frida. Chapuza again rolled his eyes before answering. "First of all the woman's name will be revealed at the end of the story. Secondly story telling is an art." Chapuza explained. Manny and Frida sighed exasperated. "Anyways, where was I? Oh I remember now."
Despite the woman's talent with music and her good looks there was one person who was never impressed with the melodies that she played. He was a nobleman, the name of whom has been lost to the ages, who lived on the surrounding hills where all the wealthy people in town resided. Once a week this nobleman would come down from his estate and shop in the market. Each time he would pass the woman and each time the woman would play her best music for him. But sadly the nobleman would never cast her even a fleeting glance and would only continue on his way. To others this action may have been considered rude. How dare this man pay not even a single moment of his time to listen to this woman's wondrous music? But to the woman his actions only managed to sadden her, for over the years this woman came to fall in love with the nobleman.
It was unclear to the woman whether the nobleman even knew if she existed or not. After all, her music had an effect on everyone else who heard it. Yet the woman did not dwell on such things for long, she simply would play her best whenever he walked by. But even her very best music, it seemed, did not even catch his attention as he would always simply rush past her as if she was not even there. Eventually the woman became sadder and sadder at the thought that nothing she could ever do would impress the love of her life.
One day a tall man with fiery red eyes and a black cloak approached the woman. "Can you repair this for me?" The man asked the woman while holding out a golden guitar. The guitar was painted a marvelous gold color and had red decorative patterns on it. The woman took the guitar and examined it for a few moments. "What is wrong with it?" The woman asked having seen no obvious defects. The man pointed to the top of the instrument. "I cannot adjust the strings; it is in need of new pins." The man explained.
The woman agreed to fix the man's guitar and said it would be ready in about a week. After the week had passed the woman decided to test the instrument before giving it back to its owner. She sat in her usual playing spot in the market and bean to strum the guitar. As she played a few simple notes she did not notice that the love of her life had stopped in front of her and was listening to her play on the guitar. She looked up just in time to see the nobleman drop a few coins in her sombrero before smirking at her and walking off into the market place.
The woman sat on her chair dumbstruck with her mouth wide open. She then looked down at the instrument in her hands and decided right then and there that she must have this guitar. Unfortunately for her the real owner of the guitar showed up just as she was contemplating stealing the guitar for herself. "So I presume you fixed the guitar?" the man asked her. The woman got up from her seat and dragged the cloaked man into a back alleyway. "Please I must have this guitar." The woman begged the stranger. She explained her situation to him and after hearing her problem the man gave an almost evil smirk.
"Well, miss," The stranger said "I can tell you that this guitar will come at a heavy price." The stranger sauntered over to her back. "I will pay any amount you like. Money is of no concern." The woman said, so desperate for the guitar she was. "Ah, but you see the payment is not in money my dear." He explained. "You see this is a very special instrument and therefore requires a very special payment; something that is beyond material value." The man said while grinning at her. "Tell me my dear are you willing to give anything for this guitar?" The woman narrowed her eyes in contempt. "Why, what are you implying?" She asked him. "What I am trying to say is that to buy this guitar you must give me your soul." He said nonchalantly.
A look of shock came over the woman's face as she realized what this meant. "But of course your soul is nothing compared to the life of happiness that you will get from this guitar, is it not?" The woman looked up at the mysterious stranger. "How do I know it will make him fall in love with me for sure?" She asked him. "I give you a guarantee that the sounds and melodies produced by this guitar will make him fall head over heels for you." The stranger reassured her. Seemingly out of nowhere, the man pulled out a piece of parchment with dark black lettering. "All you have to do is sign here. But I must warn you, by signing your name you are also agreeing to have a curse put on you and the rest of your family for all of time. Do you accept the conditions?" The stranger explained.
"Well she obviously chose not to right?" Frida piped up. Chapuza gave her a look that said 'what do you think'. "But how could you agree to something like that?" Manny asked astonished. "Love makes people do lots of insane things." Chapuza explained to them. "Now will you stay quiet so I can finish the story?" He added.
The woman signed her name on the contract and just after she finished the man yanked the piece of paper away and stuffed it into his cloak. The stranger then handed over the guitar and held out a gloved hand. The woman looked at him hesitantly before extending her own hand and shaking his. The man then walked away down the alley and turned a sharp corner, never to be seen again.
Over the course of the next month or two, the suave nobleman began paying more and more attention to the woman playing the golden guitar. Soon after, the two got married and the woman spent her time in the lavish home of her husband. After a year or so the couple had a child, and the words of the mysterious man came back to the woman. However she simply pushed the thought out of her head whenever it came to her. It was several years before anything began to really change. The woman, who used to be shy and generous, became greedy and self centered. Her attention was focused on jewels rather than her own family. This was when their marriage began to fall apart. The nobleman became resentful of his wife demanding money and jewelry from him. This was because the nobleman's shipping business was beginning to fail and money wasn't coming in like it used to.
Fights between the couple became more common as the once innocent woman's desire for wealth became greater. Eventually the couple split apart and the woman was reminded of what she sacrificed for her marriage. Yet her lust for wealth did not decrease any and she was becoming more desperate for it. Instead of playing music on her guitar for money she began to steal it. She joined a gang of banditos who roamed the country looting money from all kinds of places. As the years passed, the woman aged as any normal person would. But the woman noticed that something was not quite right. It appeared as though she never stopped aging. The woman was again reminded of the curse which the mystery man told her of all those years ago. Only now did she truly realize the full extent of the curse.
Her skin became cracked and dried and eventually flaked off all together. The woman's flesh and muscle could be seen by everyone. Not only was it exposed but it also began to decay and deteriorate. Her flesh and organs began to fall out piece by piece until there was nothing left except her bones. No one knows if she felt any pain as her body fell apart over hundreds of years. The only thing that is certain is that this woman still lives to this very day.
As General Chapuza finished his story, a look of dawning realization appeared on Frida's face. "No it can't be… It can't be who I think it is." Frida stated in a shocked voice. Chapuza just slowly nodded his head. "Wait, who is it?" Manny asked puzzled as he clearly had not figured it out yet. "That, that is just so sad." Frida stated depressively. "Hold on, I still don't know. Who on earth is it?" Manny asked again impatiently. "It's Sartana of the Dead you idiot! Who else would it be?" She retorted loudly. Manny just sat there speechless as he took in all the information. The three sat there silently for a few minutes. "I'm not sure I can believe it." Manny said quietly.
"You should believe it. That story is one of the most closely guarded secrets in all of Miracle City's super villain hierarchy." Chapuza said sternly. He then got up and began to walk away from the two youngsters. "Don't be blabbing this story to anyone else either. If word got out that I told you the story I'd become a disgrace." He added firmly before disappearing down the street. Manny and Frida slowly got up off the cold pavement and began to walk home together. As they walked along the side walk, Frida grabbed Manny's arm and leaned her head on his shoulder. "Hey Manny?" She said softly. "Yeah." He replied. "Do me a favor. Don't ever turn evil." She said in a melancholy voice. Off in the distance the music of a guitar could be heard, the sad melody calling out to the whole city as though giving the story a musical form.
Okay so that's it. I was originally thinking about calling this story Sartana's Curse but I thought that that would give away too much. Then again maybe most of you could figure it out in the beginning. Oh and for those of you who don't know, guitarra del Diablo means the guitar of the devil in Spanish. Although I seriously hope no one reading this needs that translation. I also added in a little FridaxManny in the end there. Anyway please review.