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La Llorona
Cecelia Raker People:
MARIA: A sixteen-year-old girl. She might be Latina; she might just be taking Spanish classes at school. LA LLORONA: The reason you don’t go out alone at night down by the arroyo, a ghastly woman with long, dark hair. She wears a torn white dress and string of severed children’s hands. She is Latina. Place: The arroyo out behind a bad neighborhood, on the edge of the desert in the American Southwest, right now. The streambed is dry most of the time, but when the rains come, the water flows fast enough to kill you.
MARIA
Hey!
You coming to get me? You real, ghost lady? Hey! Come and get me!
MARIA
Come and get me.
Please.
LA LLORONA
aay, mis hijos!
will you give me your name, mija, will you will you will hey kid will you give me your hey kid wanna come down by the water tonight wanna hear the water run in the arroyo it sounds like music ven, ven, hey mija you wanna tell me what your naaaaame is come on MARIA
Maria. my name is Maria.
LA LLORONA
really?
no jodas? me too! that’s my name too! you’re not shitting me? I got the same name as you! MARIA
yeah, I know. we got the same name. ‘cept mine’s alive.
so. um. How’s it going? LA LLORONA
Llorona down by the dry creek
by the cracks in the dirt where the water don’t run no more Llorona llorando hair splayed out on the wind like a crow wing like a splatter of blood like a child’ssssss cry in the night Llorona eyes como lunas blancas como dry bone snake spines out in the desert no pupils MARIA
that good, huh?
LA LLORONA
Llorona hears the blood
pumping in your burnt out veins squeezing your fingernails into your plump soft palms hears your eyelids straining Llorona holding in salty water why? MARIA
I got a situation.
he left, and I. well.
LA LLORONA
aaaay, mis hijos!
MARIA
I’ma be all like you, now.
One Maria Two Maria Red Maria-- LA LLORONA
mira mija
you don’t wanna be like me pinche saint Peter won’t let me into the pearly gates keeps asking me where my kids issssssssssss what kind of fucking question is that, coño you KNOW where my kids— asshole gringo what the fuck MARIA
well gimme a sec down there in the water with those rocks and the flash flood situation and
you can tell him I’m your kid. LA LLORONA
you're not a kid
MARIA
I'm only 16, bitch.
LA LLORONA
not a kid you're pregnant
A long silence.
LA LLORONA
Llorona took the soft ssssskin
the little unsure smiles the tiny fingernails like jewels freed the sound from their little ears opened their faces with rocks blood like lace in the water Llorona went back to el rico rich man and said I’m a virgin again I got no kids, I’m pure I’m free. And that pendejo still wouldn’t marry me. Llorona looks back over her slump shoulder long line long, long line of Marias with bastards in the womb some of us handle the situation with more grace than others MARIA
I got no grace.
LA LLORONA
Llorona outside the gate looking in and it’ssssssss
peaceful in where they let you see God wish I could say go home and let that baby grow MARIA
wish I could wish I could wish I could should would...
whatever. Aren’t you sposed to like eat my soul or something? LA LLORONA
tienes miedo?
you scared of me, mija? got old dry blood under my fingernails from prying open the lid of my coffin tienes miedo? I could breath on you and the sound of demons could never leave your ears Lllllllllllorrrrrona you want that? MARIA
no but.
LA LLORONA
Llorona curling up her hands
in that wild hair you got latching on como bats and birds and inssssects writhing and pulling you down under the dessssspair with me MARIA
I shouldn't've
LA LLORONA
oh, late for that now!
you’re gonna get it, you’re gonna get what I got to take from you. MARIA
no, I only—my mom says I have to I have to go with her to the hospital tomorrow and I
LA LLORONA
you're gonna get it
MARIA
what's it?
LA LLORONA
it t t t t t t
Llorona heart like cactus spines full in the drought cut one open and you find agua milagrosa MARIA
milagrosa.
Miracle? LA LLORONA
dejame decirte—
you claw your way down deep past the grave dirt Llorona and the iron smell on your hands from holding onto those pearly gate bars and looking inside y el picor en el cuello where they won’t stop looking at you looking at you looking get down under the smell and the weeping and the blood find it t t t t find no matter rich man no matter pure you just you only you you are the one choosing. MARIA
heart like
Llorona--
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Cecelia Raker is a Boston-based playwright currently at work on a cycle of movement-and-text pieces based on fairytales, a few more traditional plays, and a collaborative experience with the Project:Project devising collective. Recent exploits include production in the Boston Theater Marathon and a reading at the 2014 Great Plains Theater Conference Playlab. www.ceceliaraker.tumblr.com
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