You have heard of la Llorona no doubt, but have you heard of The Sigua?
Similar to la llorona, The Sigua is a similar tale told in central America, within the Salvadoran, Honduran and Guatemalan countries. Instead of this being a tale told to kids to behave, the Sigua is told to young men to behave and to respect women.
The Sigua is said to have alluring beauty, effervescent skin, long flowing black hair, complimenting curves, and worst of all, a horse face!
She’s the Medusa of Central America. Her looks can drive men mad, the legally insane type of mad.
We will be releasing the full short story in three parts. If you enjoy it and want to support the author, check it out here.
Our Gothic Summer Giveaway Sale includes this dark fiction short. Simply enter coupon code BNPLEGENDS at the checkout until September 20, 2023.
The Sigua by Willy Martinez Part 1
He finds himself in the body of a young teenage boy, fulfilling the destiny of rural laborer, on a humid plantation along the base of the Santa Ana Volcano. The young boy senses a strong history of submission within. A childhood robbed of him, most of the hours of the day were spent on chores, helping his grandfather on the plantation, and never having much time for himself.
One warm evening, his grandfather sends him to fetch water for the following morning. A deviation from the regular routine of acquiring the water in the morning, but the boy unwillingly accepted the request, for it was his duty.
With a lantern in hand, the boy sets out to stage the horse named Chico for the trek up the small hill. As he prepares the water pails and saddle, he hymns an unfamiliar song. He tries to recall the hymn as something very familiar to him but the more he thought about it, the more confused he would become. Unsure of what he was whistling, he shrugs it off and mounts Chico.
The boy and Chico cut through the dark humid barrier of the night, following the lantern glow of the poorly illuminated path. Although a clear night, the contrasting temperature between the woods and the homestead created an evening dew. As if the dew itself was hugging onto the humidity, riding it like the boy on top of Chico, lurking for no reason.
What is regularly a small hill, soon becomes a small mountain to a young boy in the dark. The lantern only casts light onto a few trees near him, but luckily for the boy, familiarity of his surroundings was on his side. Even Chico knows this path in the dark.
The path seemed to take longer in the evening, causing the boy’s nerves to be on high alert. He tries his hardest not to think about any dark possibilities, but he can’t clear his mind enough. Chico and the boy eventually arrive, and the boy parks the horse at the summit, jumps off, and unties the water buckets.
Turning towards the water tanks at the mountain summit, he notices a shadow being cast from the limited lantern light. The boy jumps back in startled surprise. He sees the silhouette of a … woman with her back turned to him. Her long jet-black hair cascades down to the back of her knees, overlapping her long airy, white gown.
When she turns to look at the boy, he immediately looks down at his bare, brown feet. He knows what she is.
A strange neighing sound seeps out from her mouth, daunting Chico into a rearing front leg kick into the air. Chico turns, and gallops off, leaving the boy alone, with her. Thinking he is adding another layer of defense from her, he covers his eyes with his hands, shutting his eye lids so tight they’d crush a guava fruit.
“Don’t be scared,” she says to the boy.
With his hands still clinging his face, he looks up to peak through his fingers. She was no longer standing with her back towards him. Her head tilted downward, her hair billowed forward, covering her face. Thank God, he thinks to himself.
She walks towards him slowly.
“I know who you are,” he yells at her, once again squeezing his whole face to pinch his eyes even tighter.
“Come here boy, let’s play a little,” she responds.
The boy looks back down to his dirty feet, toes pointed at each other. Stuttering: “Sss stop right, th, th, there. Sign me a song,” he says to her.
Violently halting her movement, she spits back, “What?”
“Yes! Sing me the song that God sang to you when you were cast out of Heaven, you devil!”
At this point, she had no choice but to comply. Every vessel in her body resonated with this command and tune. What one would expect to be dreadful and searing to the ears, was in fact the opposite.
The song moves quickly past the ear, to the depths of the inner chambers of one’s heart and can go even deeper the more you listen. It’s as if the strings of Orpheus’ harp were serenading the senses, evoking all human emotions at once.
*****
If you enjoy “The Sigua,” visit our blog at The Ritual for related flash fiction.
Alvarado wakes up from this nightmare to find himself in a strange bed, in a dimly lit room. He is surrounded by crosses, two nuns, and a priest. To comfort the panicking conquistador, el padre begins to pray an ‘Our Father.’
“Enough,” commands Alvarado as he attempts to shoot out of bed. But the pain in his rib cage is too intense and shuts down his advance. His ribs and head have been bandaged up to prevent further bleeding from God knows what horrible accident.
“Very well,” responds el padre. “Do you remember anything? The church demands to know what happened to you and your men.”
Alvarado reaches for the wooden chalice filled with water to gulp down what he can, barely breathing in-between gulps.
“When we found you in the aqueducts, you were ranting on about some cave system and something about a Sihuehuet. You have been living in sin, Alvarado. Now, you must tell me what happened so that I may report it to General Cortez and the church.”
Copyright © 2023 By Mind on Fire Books
All Rights Reserved. This is a work of fiction. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher or authors, not be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this coordination being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
The Sigua is a short story written by Willy Martinez.
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