Narrative Essay Winner

El Sombrerón

By Winslow Proctor

      The hot afternoon sun beamed down on us as we continued to walk on the path towards Abuelita’s house, our journey almost over. We started through a thin forest, dense clusters of trees made it difficult to see. As we worked our way through the forest, Juanita groans as an acorn hits her on the head. Velia let out a short giggle.

 

     “Shut up,” Juanita said. “It’s not funny,”

 

     “You would laugh the same way if it happened to me,” Velia claimed.

 

     Up ahead we saw a well shadowed by a massive weeping willow. “We should stop here and get a drink,” I remarked.

 

     Pita sighed in relief, and the twins muttered in agreement. Me and Juanita layed Pita’s stretcher on the ground, and the twins ran straight to the fountain. “This shade is nice,” Juanita claimed as she sat down under the tree.

 

     I sat Pita up and gave her some water, I was glad to see that her leg was doing better. We decided that we would eat lunch here too, the shade of this tree allowed us to rest. The humid air was comforting, and the smell of nature was relaxing. A few minutes later a distant noise, a guitar maybe, echoed in the distance.

 

     “There must be a fiesta somewhere!” Delia exclaimed, but it was not music to be played at a party. The song was mellow and quiet; sad, almost. And relaxing, I realized; very, very relaxing.

 

     “That’s not a fies...” Juanita cut herself off with a yawn.

 

     “The music is getting louder,” Velia said, confused, “Why is it coming our way?”

 

      “It might be a marching band?” Delia suggested.

 

      “What kind of marching band would play sad music? I asked. As we argued over what it might be, the mysterious guitar song grew closer and closer. Pita had been quiet this whole time, so I thought I should ask her.

 

     “What do you think it is?” I asked Pita, but when I looked over at her, she was gone. “Pita!” I gasped. “Where is she!?” 

 

     “There!” Juanita screamed, I looked over to see Pita laying by a tree, eyes wide, mouth agape, as if she was paralyzed. She was not sleeping, but she was not awake. The music had stopped. Beside her head was a small creature with a large black sombrero covering most of its face. A silver guitar lay at its side.

 

    “Who…what are you?” Velia asked.

 

     “¿Quién soy? ¿Qué soy yo? Todo lo que importa es si lo soy o no,” the creature said in a surprisingly human voice. I tried to get a better look at its face, and that's when I realized that it was braiding Pita’s hair.

 

     “Get away from Pita,” Delia said, “She doesn’t want her hair braided.”

 

     “Y no quiero tu intervención,” it said softly.

 

     “Get away from her!” I yelled as I ran at it, “You will not hurt my sisters!” It grabbed its guitar and played a few notes, causing me to clamber to the ground, I tried to move, but I was completely immobile. I could not move, I could not speak, I was completely numb. All I could do was watch the rest unfold. Just like Pita, I thought, poor, poor Pita.

 

     Juanita grabbed Pita’s stretcher and hurled it at the man, before falling to the ground just like me and Pita. The man blocked the flying stretcher with his guitar, keeping himself from harm. The guitar broke under impact, and the spell he cast upon us was released. My legs wobbled as I got to my feet, and my mouth snapped shut.

 

     “I’m free!” Pita shouted.

 

     The man fled at the sight of his shattered guitar, and we continued on our way. Velia and Delia bombarded us with questions about why we couldn’t move, what it felt like, and why it didn’t happen to them. All that mattered to me was that we were safe. For now, at least.