literature

The Black Rose of Andalucia

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Literature Text

A partial intro to a story I am working on that was inspired by my latest manipulation entitled Bailarín de la Muertes...more to follow soon.


Here in the year 1704, in what had been known as the Kingdom of Castile, an undetectable curse had been beleaguering its inhabitants.  Fifty years, it has been since the last remnants of the 16th century plague swept through this area and yet there still remains a realm ensconced in old magic, mysticism, and myth.

Philosophical and canon advisory associated with the Cathedral of Spain, I, Francisco de Gongoras was sent here to Andalusia on commission to establish what the local populace was suffering from – a descent into inexplicable madness or perhaps it is something all together more malevolent?

It is here on this 3rd day of December that I began to account the very memoirs that would decompensate whatever notion I ever had of good sense and veracity; I would soon come to witness not only my own decline as a cleric but also my decline as a rational, clear-minded human being…


And so the saga begins…


1704, día 3 de diciembre

Clutching my cardinal red journal depicted with the royal crest, I meandered through the cobblestone streets of what seemed like a quaint, forgotten community; I heard the dulcet roar of whispers as I strode past the onslaught of terribly sodden and ashen-faced townsfolk… I could not help but peer in astonishment at their sunken in eyes, their disheveled hair and a definitive look of angst and foreboding.

It was difficult for me to ascertain whether their ongoing trepidation was in accordance with my arrival or this is just the way it always had been.  I felt uneasy as I moved further through the narrow streets.  It was nearly dark but I knew I had to make my way to the innermost part of the town. I knew that had to be where the local drinking hole was…there I would come across the yarns I had all ready been informed of…the local tall tales of the mystical being that tormented this and all the local adjacent towns…a being widely known as The Black Rose…or El Negro se Levantó as some called her.

She was a ghostlike being, a woman, presumably deceased that wandered the land, stalking and stealing young maids to pay homage to her demon consort. Some say the woman was part dark gypsy while others claim her as a pagan witch and nothing more.

I knew once I was in the tavern, the account of her existence and subsequent saga would unfurl in the rampant enunciations of the inebriated. I stopped dead center in front of a place aptly known as El Veneno de las Brujas (The Witches Poison).  It was indeed the local drinking hole; I walked towards the door and grasped the rusty handle to the iron plait door….would I find what I came for …


The Legend of the Black Rose….otherwise known as Bailarín de la Muertes. (Death's Dancer)? Would I see to this local myth's demise or would this dark saga unravel its clandestine secrets only to compel my soul to succumb to its powerful mystique? There would be only one way to find out……


To be continued….

Partial literary component to the manip Bailarín de la Muertes

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purpleh2o's avatar
My apologies for missing this until now. Nicely intriguing start to a story.