Lark was silent while Hilda stroked her hair and wet it with the tears of pain that flowed from her eyes because of the suffering that was reflected on Lark’s face. Hilda did not say anything either, since she also suffered when she saw that Lark’s eyes lacked their own light, overshadowed by an immense sadness that came from the depths of her heart. Both were wrapped in a silence that did not need to be interrupted with words because they understood each other through the feeling of Hilda’s love, communicating directly heart to heart.
With a gentle voice Manuel told them, “Lark’s room is ready, she can rest now.”
Hilda whispered to Lark’s hatred, “Tomorrow will be a new day and we can start over, and I want you to know, we are happy to have you back home.”
Then, Hilda accompanied Lark to her room and helped her lie down on the bed, tucking her in as if she were a child. Lark’s room had a window through which she could look directly into the courtyard of the house. Moonlight filtered through the glass, illuminating the entire room. Lark remained awake, everything that happened did not allow her to sleep, keeping her awake due to the accumulation of emotions within her heart.
Suddenly Lark heard a light tapping on the glass of the window, and then a voice that incessantly repeated her name, “Lark.” Even though her thoughts were not in sync with her feelings, she stood up and started walking towards the patio without making any noise inside the house.
Facing the patio door, Lark clearly heard a voice calling out to her. Without thinking about what she was doing, she opened the door, she went out to the patio and walked to a mango tree that was in the middle of the way, where despite the moonlight, the darkness was thicker. She heard a slight whistle carried by the wind that tormented his ears with a spectral voice, “Come with me to the house of the Sombrerón.” Lark felt that voice penetrate all her senses, causing her skin to crawl and her heart to pound. She replied, “I will never return to the house of the Sombrerón.” Then the voice resounded louder, imperatively, “Come with me to the house of the Sombrerón.” Lark overcoming the fear she felt replied, “I will go, but not with you. I do not want to go into the darkness of your shadow. I will go to the house of the Sombrerón walking down the street. “
Then Lark turned around, went back inside the house, and walked to the front door to go outside. She was dressed in a white silk nightgown, disheveled, barefoot and with a wild look as she began to walk through the streets of Jutiapa. While the wind played around with the fabric of the nightgown on her body, lifting her long hair in a serpentine way towards nothing. Lark continued walking until she reached the old house known as, “The house of the Sombrerón”.
As she stood in front of the old wooden door, Lark sighed deeply. Then using her right hand she pushed open the door without any difficulty. She walked to the patio, where a campfire burned with great flames of fire. Lark sat on a large stone that was on one side of the fire, in the opposite direction from where that small dark shadow was speaking to her through the flames, “You came! You are here.”
Lark did not answer, it seemed that she was as transfixed by the memories of her, observing the imposing ceiba tree where she had long ago remained hanging by her feet suffering from severe burns. Time moved as in slow motion, accentuating the silence that enveloped them. Silence that was occasionally interrupted by the roaring fire.
Suddenly the little shadow broke the existing silence to say, “You don’t have to speak, I can discern your thoughts. Don’t be afraid, I just want to talk. The first time I heard you sing when you were a child, I was so mad because your beautiful voice was more powerful than mine. That’s why I punished you so that you would keep quiet and stop singing. But when you grew up you became a beautiful woman and I fell in love with you. I’m the one who always destroys the love of lovers, and now I am feeling love for you. “
Lark lowered her head and closed her eyes, while she replied, “Love! What is love? I gave Saul all that I am, until I was left with nothing for myself. Saul destroyed my whole being until he eradicated love from my life. Now I am an empty body, without aspirations, without emotions, without feelings and without self-love, because even my spirit is dead. “
“Saul loved you with all his heart, but I influenced his ambition to submit him to my will. I confused his thoughts by offering to fulfill the secret longings of his flesh. Saul could have refused, but he did not. In the end, Saul was the one who made the decision to keep forgetting the love he felt for you. ” Said the shadow moving a little closer to the campfire.
“What do you want of me?” Lark asked.
“I love you, stay with me and you will have everything you want. You will be happy, you will have money, you will sing again, and you will be able to take revenge on Saul. ” The shadow answered in a melodious voice.
Standing up, Lark turned her back on him and began to walk towards the exit as she replied, “I will never be for you, and I will never stay to live with you.”
The small shadow jumped over the flames of fire and faced Lark, showing his small body, dressed in a mariachi costume, but hiding his face under a large hat, “You are going to regret this Lark, because by despising me you are looking for a continuous life lived in disgrace. ” Then he threw himself on Lark knocking her to the ground, where he dragged her, pulling her by her hair towards the ceiba tree where he braided her hair, tying it to the roots of the tree.
Lark did not complain, or cry and she fell asleep in a fetal position in the shade of the ceiba tree.
TO BE CONTINUED…