Labyrinth Lost

I`m going to let you in on a little secret, Ladybird. If you can`t learn to sacrifice the small things, you`ll never get the thing you`re after.

Not all loves are meant to last forever.

Fear. Awe. It`s the same thing, I guess.

I am fear. I am the shadow of your mind. I have no name. I am everything you hide, and I cannot be defeated.

"Don`t be sorry," she says. "Just don`t do things to be sorry for."

I don`t know what I`m doing. I`ve never been here, and I made that clear. It`s fifty percent suicide. But if we don`t do this, you`re already dead.

"How long have I been out?"
"Time is a human fabrication," he says, like he`s reciting from a textbook, "and doesn`t exist in Los Lagos."
I roll my eyes. "How many fabricated minutes on the ticking thing around my wrist was I out for, then?"

"Trust me!"
How can I trust him when he pulls his hands from mine and lets me go?

Sometimes when I`m with her long enough, I forget about all the things I can`t tell her - the fear, the cantos, the ghosts. I forget and let myself just be.

I can feel the secrets pushing against my veins, and in turn, I push right back -- hiding them deep inside, where I hope one day even I won`t be able to find them.

Lula looks up at the ceiling and asks, "What did I do in my last life to deserve you two?"
"You were a pirate queen who stole a treasure from Cortes and then ended up deserting your crew to man-hungry sharks," Rose tells her. "We`re your punishment for every lifetime to come."
Lula rolls her eyes. "Seems excessive."

Nothing says "happy birthday" like summoning the spirits of your dead relatives.

I wonder what it`s like in other households during breakfast. Do their condiment shelves share space with jars of consecrated cemetery dirt and blue chicken feet? Do their mothers pray to ancient gods before they leave for work every morning? Do they keep the index finger bones of their ancestors in red velvet pouches to ward off thieves?
I already know the answer is no. This is my world. Sometimes I wish it weren`t.