ALBERTO SERNA’S STORY

My name is Alberto Serna, and I am the oldest of four brothers. My family and I once lived in a little settlement three miles northeast of Santa Fe. My grandfather had built our home of adobe in 1918, and when he died in 1953, he passed it to my mother who already had a growing family. This home, along with Doña Leticia’s house, was demolished soon after the family sold the land to the New Mexico Highway Department. Presently, I live on the west side of Santa Fe and have two sons. By the age of 15, I had acquired a great knowledge of ghosts and witches through the spoken stories told to me by my grandparents, and uncles and aunts, including stories of the famous La Llorona. So when my father took me aside and told me of Doña Leticia, a neighbor who lived about a quarter of a mile east of our home, I was not surprised by my father’s lecture. He warned me to avoid the old spinster and stay away from her home.When I asked why, he replied simply, “Es una bruja.” (She is a witch.) My father told me that he had always suspected that she had evil powers, but hadn’t any proof until his friend Juan told him how Doña Leticia had given his brother el mal ojo (the evil eye). My father said that soon Juan’s brother became bedridden and remained that way for a month until his wife tearfully beseeched Doña Leticia and offered her cash to remove the spell. My father also told me that Doña Leticia had a small wooden box in which she kept some sort of animal that she could manipulate to work her magic. The witch fed the animal a concoction of herbs, threads from an intended

victim’s clothes or strands of hair, and drops of Leticia’s own blood. I listened intently to my father’s words and promised never to go near the witch’s house—never. About a month later, neighbors received the news that, while en route to Albuquerque with a close friend, Doña Leticia’s cart had turned over and she had broken her back. She died the following day. Because my parents were held in high regard in our community, Doña Leticia’s only surviving relative, a 73-year-old brother from Taos, gave them the opportunity to buy Doña Leticia’s house and land for a reduced price.None of the neighbors wanted anything to do with the place, so, since my parents had saved up a few extra dollars, they purchased Doña Leticia’s small homestead with the intention of fixing it up and renting it. Once Doña Leticia’s brother had removed most of her belongings and left for Taos, my parents and I entered the house. Apparently, in his haste, the brother had disturbed a floorboard in the bedroom. I removed the board and found a small wooden box painted in a faded green patina. I retrieved the box and undid the tight twine holding the lid in place. The inside of the box was lined in red cloth and lying on the cloth was a black, coiled, and shriveled worm. I assumed that this was the animal my father had told me about. When I showed the box to my parents, my mother immediately made the sign of the cross and ordered me to “take that thing outside!” My father followed me out of the house and around to the back. Then he gathered some old boards that were lying in the yard and built a fire.Once the fire was roaring, he threw the box into the flames. I watched the flames of the fire consume the green box and its twisted, black contents. Many months later, after painting, fixing the plumbing, and sprucing up the property, my parents finally rented the house to an