A Second Visit from Saint Michael - A Halloween Story

"And when seven voices call out to you on the Day of the Dead," I said evenly, "you must act to save them."

"Exactly," he said firmly. "And on this day, with the call of seven voices, I have FULL power to act."

He turned to Maria and said, "Tell your story. Perhaps the officials will act to prevent this in the future and I won't have to intercede."

Turning to me, he said, "Tell your story also. I assume you still have the links to the story sites from last year."

He then turned and began walking away. Once again, as he walked away, he transformed into a hooded figure with skeletal legs showing beneath the long robe. As he reached the door, the figure turned and the skull beneath the hood said, "Tell them that a visit from Saint Michael is terrifying only to those who terrify others."

He then faded away.

Maria looked up at me. "Do we tell the whole story?" she asked.

"You tell the story of yourself and the other women," I answered. "But leave out exactly how I managed to free you."

There was a question on her face, which I answered with, "That way the major news agencies will pick up your story and run it above the fold rather than relegating it to the News of the Weird pages."

She nodded her approval.

"I will tell of Saint Michael," I said. The firmness and anger in my voice surprised even me. "I will have to post it on the same sites I used for the first story. It won't get as much distribution as your story, but maybe his message will get out.

"His message?" she asked.

"Yes," I responded, "It is a message to those who terrify others. Someday, somewhere, sometime, when you least expect it-- perhaps on the Day of the Dead-- seven voices will call out three times for Saint Michael to save them. And you who terrify others will know exactly what terror truly is."

"You really are a priest of Saint Michael," Maria said softly.

Neither of us could think of what next to say, so we both went back to our typing.

The next Monday, Maria officially returned to work. The owner had a banner printed which hung in the office. It said, "Welcome back, Maria." There was also a bonus check on her desk with a note congratulating her for a job well done.

After everyone had greeted her and offered their own congratulations, she set something on my desk. It was the printout of an article with the headline, "Feds and Federales Make Joint Raid on Border Ranch."

The first paragraph read, "Acting on an anonymous tip, a joint US-Mexican task force raided the ranch of Hector Cortez, a well-known member of the Texas underworld with ties to the Mexican cartels. Because the ranch was effectively two ranches-- one on the U.S. side and one on the Mexican side-- both Homeland Security and the Mexican Federal Police acted together in the pre-dawn raid."

It continued, "When they entered the mansion, they found evidence of a wild party from the previous night. Many high-ranking mobsters and cartel members were lying on the floor senseless or dead. Most were wearing elaborate Halloween costumes. There was evidence that other people-- most likely women-- had been chained up or otherwise restrained in the room, but all of the leashes, shackles and chains were empty. The entire staff of the huge ranch house was found cowering in a nearby bunkhouse. They were of no help to the investigation because they either could remember nothing of the previous night, or fear prevented them from speaking."

I looked up after reading the second paragraph. "You know what happened, don't you?"

Maria nodded and then said, "They became those upon whom they had inflicted so much pain. Seven times throughout the night, they lived and relived what they had done to others. It was the punishment of Saint Michael."

I now wear a small medallion around my neck. It looks like a silver military dog tag and most people think it is in memory of a fallen soldier. It's not. On that little rectangle of silver are three names. "Saint Michael, Santa Muerte, and Mictlantecuhtli."

Whenever I see someone who is being unwillingly abused by those more powerful than themselves, I take it out of my shirt and read all three names aloud. Who knows, perhaps on that day I will be the seventh voice that allows Saint Michael to act.

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END OF STORY

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