Folklore & Family

The cold was a welcome distraction from my current miserable state. Although, I regretted not grabbing a warmer jacket. I tugged it closer as another gust of wind blew. I rubbed my hands together and blew hot air onto them. Not bringing gloves was another oversight. My already sensitive skin would pay for it come morning.

In my defense, I wasn’t in the best of headspaces. The funeral house was too stale. Everything was too perfect, too sterile, too micromanaged in a way that rid the environment of life’s unpredictability. The air over there was too suffocating. The ranch proved to be no better. Time apart and tragedy made sure that our interactions were stiff and awkward. It was as if we had all forgotten how to exist around each other. In a house once filled with love and life, no one knew how to break the somber air. Determined to drive away my encroaching sadness, I thought back to happier times at the ranch.

“Beware La Lechuza, or she’ll claw you into ribbons!”

A swinging lantern cast odd shadows on cabin walls. Cousins shrieking in terror and delight. Parents looking on with exasperated fondness. Abuelo’s eyes twinkling with mischief through it all.

The childhood memory brought a smile to my face. It’s one of my favorites, after all. Our family held reunions frequently, and storytime with Abuelo had always been a highlight. Abuelo’s abuelos grew up in a more rural part of Mexico where folklore stories were passed down like heirlooms. He spent his later years in the city, but he made sure that his grandchildren still knew the old legends.

Like many folklore stories, La Lechuza had different interpretations. One thing remained common: La Lechuza took the form of a terrifying owl. Her claws could carry grown men off to their doom. Some say that she took the form of a human-size owl. Others say that she appeared as an ordinary owl with the exception of a horrifying, decayed face of an old woman. In the story that Abuelo told with an impish grin, La Lechuza was a witch killed by angry villagers. She died swearing revenge on those who had wronged her. Whistling was her only warning before attacking. A homicidal bird-lady sounds like a poor choice for a bedtime story. But hey, that’s Mexican families for you.

Looking back though, I learned to appreciate the secret meanings behind the folk stories of old. La Llorona taught us to be careful around rivers. El Cucuy taught us to listen to our parents. La Lechuza taught us not to wander through the woods at night. Which… was exactly what I was doing right now.

With that thought in mind, I paid more attention to my current surroundings. Time away from the ranch had taken its toll on my sense of direction. In my quest to clear my head, I somehow wandered off of the marked path. Trees blended together and formed twisted towers. They formed a fortress with me as the sole prisoner. Constellations kept me company, but I long forgot how to ask them for directions.

Needless to say, I found myself lost in the woods.

I tried to quell the rising panic in my throat. In my haste, I left my phone back in the house. I slipped out while everyone was attending to their own devices, so I don’t know if anyone actually knows that I’m gone. Did Abuelo feel lonely when he-

Stop it.

I smacked my palms against my temples. Get out of the woods first. Mourning later. Another gust of wind left me shaking. The temperature reminded me of what a stupid move it was to run into the woods alone. The wind howled with laughter as if mocking me. It rattled the branches and whipped up fallen leaves. At one point the wind even sounded like… whistling. The shadows around me suddenly seemed a lot more foreboding.

“Beware La Lechuza, or she’ll claw you into ribbons!”

Abuelo’s warnings replayed in my mind. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a figure fly over the treetops. Maybe it was a trick of the dark. Maybe it was my fear formed from being alone in the woods. I hate to admit it, but I panicked. I took off without a direction in mind. I crashed through the woods with the grace of a newborn deer.

A gasp escaped my lips as my foot caught in a gnarled tree root. My body plummeted to the ground. Luckily, my arms took the brunt of the fall. Unluckily, my hands were now covered with several cuts and a layer of dirt. I rolled onto my back and took a moment to breathe. It proved to be a mistake since I was now forced to confront the emotions I had been running from. It was over once the first tear broke free. The tears I held back during the funeral sprang forth without abandon. I lost track of how long I laid there quietly sobbing.

A hoot brought me back to reality.

Right. Still in the woods.

Sitting up, I did my best to wipe away my tears with a clean part of my jacket. Turning my head, I found the source of the noise. A perfectly normal barn owl stared down at me from its tree branch. Abuelo never cared for owls, always saw them as omens of evil, but Abuela had a much more positive outlook towards them. She subscribed to the belief that owls guided souls to the afterlife. She saw them as kind creatures who sometimes had wisdom to share. I wanted to smack myself for my overreaction, but the ground already did a good job of that.

“Beware La Lechuza, or she’ll claw you into ribbons!”

Yes Abuelo. I learned my lesson. No more nightly adventures in the woods for me.

“Got any wisdom you wanna impart on me?” I joked, voice cracking more than I cared for.

The owl, being an owl, said nothing. Honestly, I couldn't tell you what I was expecting. Grief did weird things to people. This… had to be part of that. The owl and I continued to stare at each other in silence. Tilting its head to the side, the owl let out another hoot. Then without warning, it took off.

“Hey wait up!” I cried.

My body moved of its own accord. Determination replaced paranoia. The irony of the situation was not lost on me. Moments before, I had been running from an owl, and now I ran after one. I struggled trying to keep an eye on the owl and on the ground in an effort to prevent another fall. The owl seemed to notice my struggle. It let out a hoot every now and then to make sure I still followed. I followed the hooting until we reached a clearing.

After that, I lost track of the owl. I combed the skies and trees to no avail. The owl was long gone. Almost as if it never existed in the first place. Before despair could settle in again, relief washed over me as I recognized my surroundings.

I had arrived back at the house.

Hoping over the fence, I made my way through the backyard. The back light was still on, and I could hear the faint traces of conversation. The deck creaked under my weight but held steady as I knocked on the door. The back door swung open to reveal my cousin Abraham. As the first grandkid, Abuelo’s death hit Abraham especially hard. It showed in his deepening wrinkles and the way he carried himself since we heard the news. He regarded me with an expression of equal parts exhaustion and concern. I imagined I made quite the vision with leaves in my hair and covered in dirt.

“What happened to you?”

“Thought I saw La Lechuza.”

Abraham, ever collected, simply stepped aside to let me in. The weight of a dozen stares fell on me. My family may not have noticed when I left, but they definitely noticed my arrival. I self-consciously picked a few leaves out of my hair. My niece, Amanda, bounded up to me.

“What were you doing Tía?” She asked.

My eyes shifted from Amanda to the fireplace mantle. There sat Abuelo’s lantern. I felt a familiar mischievous spirit rising within me.

“I was running from a monster.”

Amanda’s eyes widened. The word “monster” piqued the interest of my other nieces and nephews. They scrambled to find a place to sit on the living room furniture. Abraham raised an eyebrow but, again, said nothing. By now, the rest of my cousins were also watching with their own expressions of curiosity and concern. I shot them a reassuring smile.

Standing in front of the fireplace, I turned the knob to turn on the lantern. A warm glow washed over the living room. I gripped the lantern handle. It groaned from a lack of use. The weight of the lantern felt welcoming in my hand. I turned back to my family. My family sat gathered around the living room waiting for the story I was about to weave. My heart ached with the familiar scene. It felt strange to be the one holding the lantern, but I knew Abuelo was smiling with approval. Kneeling down until I was eye-level with the kids, I began my tale.

“Have you children ever heard the story of La Lechuza?”