When The Church Bells Toll

Casilda

      The week went fine for Leoncio. One morning, he woke up early to the delicious smell of Tia Gertrudes’ kitchen. She cooked her la mazamorra (corn porridge) and prepared his favorite steaming cup of black coffee, the way he always wanted it. The weather around town was cold and breezy. The trees lost their leaves which turned yellow, red, and brown. Children ran and played chase. The dusty winds carried away the rustling dry leaves into different directions. The valleys and the hills, alive with foliage, looked neat and undamaged. Plaza de Frias was only a thirty-minute walk from Tia Gertrudes’ house. The rugged and enchanting hills lead to the town plaza – the wide-open space mixture of past and present, of greenery and stone edifices - where one can find everything he needs. Whenever the ships docked near Frias, Leoncio had the chance to leisurely walk up and down the hills, to see the picturesque view of the Ebro river where the historic bridge of Puente de Frias had stood since the 14th century, he needed to pass by the town plaza.

     Leoncio strolled on the concrete path and stopped every time he met some friends along the way. From the street corners of the small villages leading downtown, the castle view on the highest part of the hill mesmerized him. He passed by the rows of little stores: flower shops, shoe stores, a pharmacy, and a coffee restaurant before he finally reached the grocery store. On his way back home, he changed the route towards the gradual downward slope to visit the bridge. A huge smile flashed across his face the moment he saw the huge, concrete defense tower of Puente de Frias up ahead. He embraced the concrete walls like an old tradition, as he used to do when he was younger. His eyes shifted and saw a lone female figure at the other end of the bridge. It had taken him a while to recognize me. He stopped as if he had seen a ghost in front of him. His mouth was wide open. On the other end, I spotted him from afar. 

   The look in my laser eyes, which penetrated through my spectacles, immediately locked with his. He turned his gaze away as if I was to send him a very bad curse, but to no avail. His whole body turned stiff. Little did he know, I wished that the ground too, had opened up beneath my feet and swallowed me alive. For both of us, there was nowhere to hide. My thoughts raced through my mind at 140kph. I sensed my whole body heated up because of anger. Was it some kind of a joke? Was the universe playing a bad trick on us? I wanted to turn around but it’s too late, Leoncio walked towards me as fast as he could – there was no time to run, no place to hide. Unless, I was brave enough to throw myself off the bridge, which was very unlikely.

    “B-buenas dias, Miss C-Celina de Almeda?” asked Leoncio. Inside the calm and charming demeanor, his heart pulsated.

    Without blinking, it was as if my laser eyes penetrated his, I replied, “Lo siento, senor, but I don’t know you. Sounding a bit sarcastic, I asked, “Have we met before?”

    “You are Celina de Almeda, the librarian, right? A friend of Ana Nieves? I have seen you at the christening but I didn’t get the chance.

    “I think you got it wrong, sir. My name is not Celina. It’s Casilda. I am in a hurry… and late for work.”

   “There is something important I want to discuss with you, C-Celina.”

   “It’s Casilda. C-A-S-I-L-D-A!”

   “Okay, if you insist. It’s about the book...”

    “If it’s about a book, then, you need to visit me at the library. I guess, this is not the right place to discuss it. Now if you will excuse me, I need to go, senor.”

    Leoncio stepped back to let me pass. His face turned red. He grits his teeth and tried to get through the embarrassing situation, but he didn’t do anything.

  My steps became rapid. I kept moving forward without looking back. There was no need to stop, not now. Not on Puente de Frias.  Those same eyes. That same look. The raspy voice. The dashing look. How could he! I walked and walked, but I wondered why it had taken me a long time to cross the bridge? I had walked on this bridge a thousand times going to and fro to the library but, today… From end to end, the bridge seemed longer than the usual 150-meter walk. What could have happened? Am I on another dimension? My heart pounded and I gasped for air. My steps quickened. I desperately wanted to reach the other end as if it could save my life. I struggled with my situation. One hand clenched into a fist, and the other held on tightly to my bag – it remained like this for a while as if I was desperately holding on to something for dear life and not letting go. Something that belonged solely to me – my heart, my mind, my soul. All I could utter was, Dear God, save me.

                                                                                                          *****

“All I wanted was to explain. I was responsible, of course, but it was an accident,” Leoncio told Ana on the phone. “I knew it was her at your party, but she insisted on the wrong name.”

   “What name did she give you?”

    “C-c-as…Casilda, I think.”

   “Casilda?” Ana laughed so hard on the other line.

   “What?”

   “That was the name of the character in a story she read in the library called, The Wailing Woman. A violent ghost spirit. If she had given you that name, it means you must run for your life. Do you know that when Casilda was still alive, she was an executioner of men?”

  “I am not afraid of Casilda nor any other women for that matter,” Leoncio replied.

   “That’s my guy.” In my book, I will make you a hero…like Leon Ranger.

    “You mean, Lone Ranger.”

    “No, I said that because I based it after your name, Leoncio.”

    “Whatever!”

   They both laughed and ended the conversation.