A/N: Hola everyone! There's been another update.
I recently decided to divide this story into three parts: what happens before Miguel and Rosa travel to the LotD, what happens while they are in the other world, and what happens after they return home. The first part ended with Chapter 9, so Chapter 10 marks the beginning of the second part. It's not a big change, but I thought I'd let you know this so that the readers who have been here since the start or before part 1 was finished wouldn't be confused as to why there's a "PART 2" at the beginning of this chapter.
Without further ado, I hope you enjoy!
PART 2: THE OTHER WORLD
Chapter 8
The adventure begins
Rosa made her way through the many gravestones, ofrendas and smaller or bigger families who'd already come to the cemetery to spend time with their passed away loved ones. Some were crying, others were smiling between tears, while others were simply there to honour their ancestors or grinning sadly. Parents were hugging their children, and siblings were clinging to each other.
The young Rivera saw herself in some of them, the view igniting a myriad of memories in her troubled mind. Her family always spent more time in the hacienda before heading to the graveyard to leave more offerings.
She avoided the people she recognized. She didn't have time to greet them or give them condolences.
Her mind wandered to introspect as she paced carefully.
What Miguel had said… Had he meant it? She knew he valued music more than family, but did he hate them so much that he actually didn't wish to be a part of the familia anymore? She tried shaking away the feeling, but it lingered somewhere deep in her pierced heart.
Why was she surprised? Miguel had been thinking about venturing in the outside world to make a name for himself for so long. She was the sole family member who'd known that and had been keeping it to herself in order not to cause alarm amongst the Riveras.
This is not your fault. This is not your fault.
But fate had ultimately led to it anyway.
She should've seen this coming. She should've tried harder to prevent it.
This is not your fault! This is NOT. YOUR. FAULT!
The abyss in her soul at the memory of her cousin expanded all of a sudden, fueled by his wounding words and the shattered look on his face from minutes ago. He'd been so cruelly crushed, his aspirations and hopes had been so unfairly and brutally torn apart. Rosa knew that the people one trusted the most were the ones who hurt one the most. She'd found that out the hard way as well.
When his guitar had been splintered, the pain she'd experienced had been bigger even than the time they'd fought on the roof and had parted ways, growing distant shortly after. For a too-long moment, she'd seen her violin get smashed… Right in front of her... And she'd seen herself in Miguel's place, plagued by an amount of agony so harrowing her mind was all over the place because of the amalgam of unbridled, feral emotions.
She hadn't had time to contemplate her feelings since he'd left. She'd been too busy being panicked and trying to find him.
The huge emotional heartache caused a physical one to ascend in her chest. Her head started pounding.
It wasn't going to be an easy night.
A familiar bark alerted Rosa. Then, she spotted him.
Miguel threw a chicken leg over a barking Dante's head, likely because the dog was making too much noise and he didn't wish to draw attention to himself. Dante chased the juicy food, which kept rolling onto the ground until he shoved his teeth in it, leaving the boy alone.
It was her time to act.
Rosa yelled her cousin's name, who froze upon landing his eyes on her. She approached him and took his hand.
"Primo, let's go back home. Everyone's worried sick about you, especially your parents."
He whisked his hand out of her grip, turning on his heels and heading farther into the cemetery.
"You go home, Rosa! I can't return, not until I prove to them how wonderful music is." He strode straight to the mausoleum, where De la Cruz's sculpted elevated bust was gleaming in the light of the fireworks erupting loudly and colourfully in the sky. Rosa hadn't even noticed them. She plodded after him.
"Why do you think we're related to De la Cruz?"
Miguel searched one of his back pockets and handed her the photo of their great-great-grandmother. The full photo, except for the missing head of the man, she realized in astonishment.
There, in the hand of the walkaway musician, was Ernesto's guitar. For obvious reasons, the part of the foto with the instrument had been folded vertically so as not to be visible anymore.
Even though she was not a huge fan of the world's greatest singer, Rosa couldn't help the slight thrill that came with the revelation. But her excitement was instantly replaced by confusion and uncertainty. Being related by blood with a famous figure was many people's dream, but for it to become a reality… This sort of thing just never happened. The real world wasn't guided by fairytale rules.
"I don't know, Miguel. These things… they simply don't happen. Maybe it's only a major coincidence."
Yet the evidence was right there, in her hands. Such a beautiful guitar wasn't easy to find or to replicate. The instrument was De la Cruz's signature possession; he'd starred on the big screen with it throughout his career, never having played another guitar.
"Well, you're holding the proof."
He must've been more than ecstatic to find out (he'd actually climbed onto the roof because of this unknown secret!), and would forever be so unless he was proven wrong by some other form of serious evidence.
"I have a bad feeling about this, primo. Let's go home together and forget all this crazy stuff." she fearfully advised.
The atmosphere suddenly became cold, in spite of the bustle of the celebration. The thin hairs on her arms and nape lifted.
Miguel glanced at the instrument above the crypt. Light glinted off it. It was as if an invisible force was pulling him towards it. He climbed onto the sill of the window before trying the pane with his hands. It was shut.
Rosa flapped. "Miguel! People will see you! And they say you get cursed if you steal from the dead, especially on this night."
"I've always believed I'm cursed, prima, because of what happened so long ago, with the music ban and everything." he blankly replied as if his weird confession was going to help somehow.
He got ready, his body tensing up as he peeked at the fireworks, and she knew what was about to occur.
"Oh, no, you won't!"
Rosa wrapped her arms around his midriff and flung him off the sill. She stumbled backwards, both of them colliding with the ground painfully.
Miguel grumbled. "Aw! Prima, are you crazy for crying out loud?!"
"I'm not crazy if I'm desperately trying to keep you safe, tonto! You can't steal that guitar! Period." she snapped, finally having had enough of his stubbornness.
"Calm down, Abuelita! I know I'm not supposed to do this, but there's no other way. It'll just be for a few innocent minutes."
He timed with the explosions once more, their brightness gleaming in his eyes and on his face. And there, Rosa did notice remorse.
"I'm sorry." He breathed as he hurled his shoulder into the old window pane, bursting it open while the noise of the firework eruption covered it almost completely. He landed inside, tiny nails clinking at his feet.
Rosa recovered and hopped inside behind him. Silence fell upon them, the outside noise mostly dimmed out by now.
The place itself emanated a strange aura of mystery and secrecy. The air was less humid, and the smell of marble slightly pinched her nose.
A plethora of thoughts spun around in her head as she approached the marble sarcophagus. Her heart threatened to break her rib cage, and although her fight or flight response had already been triggered, she waited. What she kept waiting for, she wasn't sure.
She'd tried stopping him. If she attempted that now one more time, she risked damaging the instrument or this grandiose monument of a place.
Miguel had climbed onto the sarcophagus. She couldn't tell how high his level of fright was. Certainly, he was nervous, but not as much as she was, if he had the daring and fortitude to stick to his plan. But her cousin had never been insensitive.
His trembling fingers came in contact with the smooth surface of the guitar, and he brushed the thin layer of dust off of it. His reflection was clear on its sheen.
"¡Primo! ¡Ya basta! This is dang serious!"
His head lifted toward the portrait. His tone was irresolute.
"Señor De la Cruz? Please don't be mad. I-I'm Miguel, your great-great-grandson. I-I need to borrow this."
He took hold of the instrument. In her peripheral view, Rosa spotted some marigold petals glow faintly in the centre of the floor. That was… weird. She hoped it had only been her imagination.
"Miguel! Put it back! ¡Ahora!"
He sighed, briefly glancing at her over his shoulder. "Our family thinks music is a curse. None of them understand, but I know you would have. You would've told me to follow my heart. To seize my moment."
He paused for a split second. She watched, frozen and agape, as he descended back on his feet.
"So… if it's alright with you… I'm gonna play in the plaza, just like you did."
He upraised his arm. Without a second thought, Rosa bolted and grasped the sides of the guitar just before Miguel could have strummed it.
"Hey, let it go! You're gonna break it!" He raised his voice, but she gathered up all her strength to keep her grip firm.
"You. Don't. Need. This." she muttered through gritted teeth as each of them was either being pulled forwards or backwards by the other's force of tug, the guitar travelling between their tensed-up arms.
"Yes, I do! Give it to me! We're not kids to fight like this anymore!"
They danced to and fro, left and right, losing their breaths with each jerk. Rosa's feet disarrayed the petals, while Miguel's shoes screeched on the floor. The guitar twanged, the strings vibrating.
A bell rang in the boy's mind. He was close to the crypt, it wouldn't be so bad if he just… pulled a little trick on his annoyingly unwavering and determined prima.
He purposefully hit his head on the marble of the sarcophagus before letting out a bit too dramatic whimper. But it did hurt.
Rosa immediately froze, her eyes wide. She made the mistake of forgetting the guitar and reaching out to him.
"Miguel, did you hurt yourself?"
He braced himself momentarily for her inevitable outburst before triumphantly jeering and strumming the instrument. His cousin was about to utter some less-than-polite words, but she got distracted by the same thing as him.
The orange flower petals glowed, whirling briefly before landing onto the floor. The cousins eyed each other, equally taken aback and horrified. It seemed as if it got even quieter out of the blue.
"Primo, let's… let's get out of here. It's getting creepy." She grasped his arm.
"Agreed."
They didn't have the chance to take a single step.
A flashlight shone through the windows of the mausoleum, pointing right at the young Riveras.
Rosa gasped. Miguel frantically panted. He shoved her to the side, trying to avoid the threatening exposing lights.
Some keys unlocked the doors, and the groundskeeper stepped in, sounding furious. "Alright, who's in there?"
Miguel placed the guitar down, both of them getting up. "I-I'm sorry. It's my fault, but it's not what it looks like. De la Cruz is our…"
Horror coursed through their veins as the man passed right through them.
"There's nobody here?" He took hold of the instrument.
Terror-struck, they ran out, trying to grab other people's hands or arms, but their fingers went through them every time. They passed through several people's bodies, stumbling and yelping. Rosa felt nauseous.
Luisa and Enrique's voices calling their son's name with apprehension made Miguel run to them in relief.
"Primo, they can't…"
Her cousin went through his parents, as expected, stumbled and collapsed into an open grave. Rosa immediately rushed to help him, and worriedly noticed he'd fallen onto his back.
"Miguel! You alright? Take my hands!" She laid on her stomach, extending her arms.
Miguel pulled himself together from the shock and got up, but she struggled to pull him out. The soil was too steep.
A lady with a large-brimmed hat, a purple-pinkish dress and extra long gloves peeked over the margin of the grave.
"¡Dios mío! Little boy, are you okay? Here, chicos, let me help you."
They managed to haul him to the surface.
"Are you hurt?" Rosa hovered over him.
Miguel puffed. "No… I'm fine, thanks!"
They turned to the kind-hearted lady to thank her, but yelled when noticing her skeleton face. Not painted with calavera make-up, but a real skull!
The three of them screamed in unison and the cousins backed away. The boy clashed into multiple other skeletons, shouting again when one of their heads fell into his hands before he threw it in the air for the man to retrieve it.
The skeletons themselves were either puzzled or frightened, staring at them in disbelief and wonder, whispering all kinds of confused questions. Miguel grabbed her hand and trailed her along until they hid behind a large headstone.
Neither said anything for the first minute, both working on regaining their breath.
"What happened to us?" Miguel questioned, and Rosa could see the thumping of his heart beneath his unzipped red hoodie and white tank-top. She tried calming her own heartbeat.
"I'm not sure, but it certainly has something to do with that guitar. Maybe it's the curse I told you about."
With trembling fingers, Miguel peered over the tombstone, and she did the same.
There were several skeletons in the graveyard. Some were dancing, others were making spirit copies of their offerings, others were lovingly watching their living descendents. If there was one thing they all had in common (besides the chilling fact that they were made entirely of bone), it was that they weren't forlorn; or if they were, the heart-break of being unable to touch and speak to their living families quickly washed away at the joy of seeing them again.
"When Abuelita said the dead crossed over, I always thought they looked just like us." Rosa admitted, attentively studying each person in her line of vision, her fear doing an awful job at diminishing.
"Yeah, me too. I guess you can't find that out until you pass away." Miguel said, a tad more relaxed, but still alert.
His following gasp caused his cousin to jump, only to realize that Dante was licking his cheek.
"D-Dante?! You can see us? How can he see us?!"
Rosa recalled the history manual from school. "Our ancestors used to bury Xolo dogs with each person who passed away, so that it would guide the deceased one's spirit across the bridge and to the other world. Xolos must have an affinity to see the dead."
Miguel gawked at her, and she fully registered her words.
"I mean… the skeletons. I mean… No, we're not dead, we still have skin and flesh on us, but perhaps it's part of the curse." She scrutinized their glowing bodies, the mysterious gleaming aura around them fleetingly causing her to feel as if she were in a fairytale. A tale without a happy ending.
Snap out of it! Things could be worse.
"Can you stop saying that word?" He frowned, visibly disturbed.
"What? You said you've always thought you were cursed." She allowed a small smirk to cross her features, despite their unnerving situation.
She cleared her throat. "There has to be a way to get out of this."
"Like what? The history manual? Do you remember if it said anything about what to do in this case?" He sneered.
"Watch it, primo! I'm older than you."
"Oh, I'm so scared! What has that to do with this whole thing?"
"Just thought I needed to remind you. You looked like you'd forgotten." She ribbed with a tinge of condescendence.
Dante suddenly barked and fled. Miguel followed suit. Rolling her eyes in a here-we-go-again fashion, Rosa pursued them, calling to her cousin to wait up.
This is too much chasing for one night!
She heard a rattle and a crash, so she sped up. When she caught up with her way-too-fast cousin, he was on the ground, apologizing as he was collecting the bones of a skeleton in his arms. Gulping down the bubble of slight disgust, she joined him nevertheless.
"Miguel and Rosa?" The bald head of the man whose body had been scattered spoke towards two women, who turned around with wide eyes.
Then, his body rebuilt itself, his bones miraculously floating back in their right places to form a short skeleton with a huge white moustache. Eventually, he placed his head back on his shoulders as the cousins watched the scene in awe.
"You're here!" he said again. "Here here! And you can see us?"
The plump lady dashed towards them, a joyful grin on her face, scattering his body to the ground.
"Our Miguelito and Rosita!" She engulfed them in a heart-felt bone-crushing embrace, her strength reminding Rosa of her papá and tío. She struggled to breathe, slight pain shooting through her own rib cage as it powerfully came in contact with the woman's too-hard one.
"Remind me how I know you?" Miguel asked, muffled by the tightness of her arms.
"We're your family, mijos."
She finally released her grip. Rosa stumbled backwards, both of them gasping for air.
"¿Tía Rosita?" They inquired in unison, the smiling picture on the ofrenda flashing in their minds.
"¡Sí!" Rosita chirped in response.
Her long pink floral dress stood out from the majority of the skeletons around, her black hair was wrapped up in a neat crown braid, she was wearing a brown pair of Rivera sandals, gold-like hoop earrings, and a striped blue sash was tied from her left shoulder to her right hip. Rosa's eyes lingered on the semi-circlet of roses which embellished her headdress.
They turned to the short skeleton, who had composed himself again in the meantime. "¿Papá Julio?"
"¡Hola!" He sounded somewhat timid. His attire consisted of a green flannel shirt, brown pants, huaraches like his sister's ones, and a simple hat.
At last, their eyes landed on the taller woman, who fixed her rectangular glasses on the bridge of her former nose, and regarded them sternly with an unimpressed air, her arms crossed. She was clad with a short-sleeved blue bodice, her long yellow skirt matching its intricate yellow embroidery. Her black boots glistened in the candle lights surrounding them, proof that she preferred order, just like Rosa. Her greying, but otherwise black hair was fastened in a neat bun on the top of her head. Her cheekbones were high and angular, not unlike her jaw, which added a note of seriousness to her set lips.
Did skeletons even have lips?
"¿Tía Victoria?"
Miguel studied their great-aunt, then glanced back at his cousin, and repeated.
"Abuelita was right. You really do look like her." He said to Rosa.
Rosa flushed.
The skeletons also had some kind of markings on their features. Rosita's consisted of gold starbursts on her round, prominent cheekbones and pink petals bordering her eye-sockets while being accentuated by lipstick of the same shade. Victoria's face was decorated with red and yellow swirls, and red lipstick. Julio's cheekbones reminded Rosa of Elena. His markings were simpler: just a few specks where his brows had once been, coupled with some orange and yellow swirls on his chin.
While the man and his sister's face structure had a rounder shape, and they seemed to have been sturdily built in life, their great-aunt's face was longer, and her frame was leaner, considerably taller, proof that she was a Rivera by blood.
After this thorough examination of their antecedents, Rosa turned to her great-great-aunt.
"You like pink, right, Tía Rosita?"
"Oh, sí, mija! It's my favourite colour!"
"¡Finalmente! Someone from my family I can relate to!"
"But Mamá wears pink too." Miguel raised an eyebrow.
"She does, but her favourite colour is orange."
Victoria approached her sobrinos, prodding their fleshy cheeks.
"They don't seem entirely dead." she stated matter-of-factly.
A girl with a violin in tow passed through Miguel, eliciting a whimper out of him.
"But they're not quite alive, either." Rosita pointed out worriedly.
Julio became frantic. "We need Mamá Imelda. She'll know how to fix this."
"¡Oye!"
Two other tall, slender male skeletons showed up in a hurry, dropping to their knees in exhaustion. Twin skeletons, who were wearing matching brown wingtips and trousers, white striped shirts with the sleeves rolled up to their elbows, and dark bowler hats which covered their short black hair almost wholly. Their features were made up of pen-thin moustaches, greyish markings similar to Victoria's on their cheekbones, chins, and around their eye sockets, all set in two rather long faces and adorned by round-framed glasses.
If there were things that all these dead Riveras had in common, it was the brown aprons that showcased their shoe-making abilities, just like the ones their living relatives wore at home, their brown eyes and dark hair.
"It's Mamá Imelda." One of them said, and although they didn't have lungs anymore, he sounded as if he'd lost his breath.
His twin brother wasn't in a different state. "She couldn't cross over." he completed.
"She's stuck…"
"...on the other side!"
Miguel scowled in recognition. "¿Tío Óscar? ¿Tío Felipe?"
"Oh, hi, Miguel!" Óscar greeted, their faces softening before realization struck them. They gasped sonorously in unison.
Rosa briefly wondered whom she'd inherited her nearsightedness from. Her great-aunt or her great-great-great-uncles?
"I have a feeling this has something to do with you." Victoria commented, pointing at Miguel.
His eyes grew wide. "Why me? Rosa's here too."
"You're the troublemaker, primo. You've always been."
He was about to retaliate, but Rosita's voice intervened: "But if Mamá Imelda can't come to us…"
"Then we are going to her! ¡Vámonos!"
Julio grabbed his great-grandchildren's hands, dragging them forward. The other four Riveras followed, and Dante joined their group, barking joyously.
As they were ambling through the cemetery, Rosa questioned: "How are… your bones held together?"
"Nobody knows, querida." Rosita was quick to respond. "We just go with the theory that there's some powerful ancient magic that keeps our bones together, and helps our world to function the way it does."
The cousins shared a puzzled glance. Rosa supposed they were soon going to find out what that meant.
Her eyes enlarged when the bridge she'd been told about since early childhood appeared in front of them.
The bridge which only formed on this particular night and united the two worlds for a few precious hours was made entirely out of cempasúchil, hundreds of thousands of bright orange petals, and it arched into the haze. Various skeletons were crossing over to enjoy the celebrations, others were already returning with their offerings packed in baskets or bags.
They reached the threshold of the majestic bridge, where the deceased Riveras seemed to go through an invisible barrier. Once on the other side of it, their bodies thoroughly stopped glowing and became solid.
Miguel backed away while Rosa tried the barrier with one hand.
"This is sturdy." she said after her fingers felt the invisible force, her hand exceeding it with a strange sensation.
"Come on, kids! It's okay." Papá Julio encouraged.
The transition was smoother than the primos had expected. The petals glowed beneath their feet with each step they took.
"This is amazing!" Rosa whispered, and Miguel nodded in assent.
Dante ran off again, howling.
"Dante? Dante!" the boy sprinted after him, leaving his family behind. "Dante, wait up!"
When Rosa reached him at normal pace, on the highest point of the bridge, her body stilled.
Before their very eyes, the Land of the Dead expanded farther and wider than their sight could cover.
A/N: I'm not sure who is Óscar and who is Felipe, so forgive my confusion, but I can't tell them apart.
I'm not familiar with Día de Muertos traditions, but I hope the information I found is at least okay.
Do you have any suggestions about what Héctor's nickname for Rosa could be for future chapters? Like, he calls Miguel "chamaco", but I don't want to use the same pet name for her. I've thought about a few, but I haven't decided yet.
Thanks for reading and see you in the next chapter!