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Ballbusting teacher (fictional story)

2020.06.18 22:50 jojo242322 Ballbusting teacher (fictional story)

I wrote a promp the other day about a teacher busting her student, then a guy in the coments (lov u men) told me that my English wasn’t that bad and maybe I could try it myself, well, this is my first story so hope yall like it.
Also I would love to read others people versions of my prompt, please someone write this in your own style and make it more creative!
Ballbusting teacher
John was a teenager, he was fit and get well with everybody. John have a secret, even he was very sociable he was still a virgin and had a really strong ballbusting fetish, he wants to be busted in all ways, but he never feel a woman hurt his balls. John was in the last year oh high-school and the next year he would go to university, if he passes the extraordinary exams he had beacause he failed English and History, his parents paid him a personal teacher to give him class of this two subjects so John would pass the exams. He knew nothing about his new teacher and just went to where his parents told him so he could meet up her and start studying. John went to a flat in the center of the town, there he meted Maria, a stunning beautiful Latina 23 years old with long black hair, black intense eyes, she was around 130lb, really thick, big round ass and medium tits, she was a little shorter than John, just a few centimetres, she was wearing sandals, a white short and a green t shirt. She welcomed him and they went to a room with a big square table and some chairs. She had a really sweet voice, she asked him what they had to study so John started talking about everything they had to do, history and English, so after this the class begun. John stared at her eyes and legs the whole class but actually could keep up with everything she said and ask, most of the questions he answered where incorrect and Maria was looking for a form to make him memorise all the correct answers. John was fantasying about her busting his balls and got a boner. She stood up to go and get some pen and paper, when she did she could see a lump in John’s pants beacause the angle she got, John didn’t notice she knew about her growing dick and she didn’t tell him either, she just thought of a way she could make John learn faster. The two hours of class endend and they agreed to have another class the next day at 9 o clock in morning. That night John furiously masturbated as he fantasies about her standing on his balls in stiletto heels, maybe his dreams would come true. The next day he was on time at her door, when he stepped in he got a rock hard boner, Maria was wearing sexy white stiletto heels, a very short trouser that doesn’t even cover her but cheeks and a tight blue tshirt, he was breathtaking, John couldn’t say even hello, they get inside the room and Maria was gonna tell John some changes respect the study form. She said:
“I noiced your bonner yesterday and I think we can both benefit of your friend right there”
John was embarrassed that she found he was hard yesterday but also excited to see what happen next, Maria said:
“I noticed that your friend there it’s hard right now to, strip naked, now”
John didn’t hesitate and striped all her clothes but only remaining his boxers
“Underwear to baby”
She said. John now was all naked infront of the woman he have fantasied the night before, this turned him on so much. Maria began talking about the changes:
“So as I can see you find me attractive, and that’s ok no need to be embarrassed, it’s normal from a boy your age to get a boner when seeing a sexy girl, so we can take advantage of that in order to improve your studying skills, we will study for one hour and the next hour I will just make you questions about we just read, if the question it’s correct I wil stroke your hard dick for a little until I pass to the next one”
And then she grabbed his dick and stroke it a few times
“But if aren’t correct...”
Then she grabbed tight her two balls and gently squeeze them
“If you aren’t correct I will make you regret it”
As she giggles at the face expression John was doing she asked:
“How about we get started?”
John was in heaven, everything he ever want it he had it, he barely find enough air to say yes and then they sit down, the first hour passed and then the real fun begins, she ordered John to sit at the cold floor and spread her legs open and sides so she could have full access to his groin. Maria put the heel above John’s right testicle as she said:
“First question, when did colon first entered America?”
He said:
“Maybe at 1492?”
“Correct! Now I will reward you”
She kneed Dow to John’s level and she givens him a few strokes to his rock hard cock, the she says:
“Next, this one a little bit more difficult, what where the names of the four ships colon bought with her in his first travel to america?”
“La pinta, La Niña and santaaa... santa...”
John didn’t remembered the name of the last one, and beacause this count as a incorrect answer to Maria she pressed hard John’s balls against the hard floor with her stilettos as him screamed in pain, that was the first ever woman to hurt his balls, and he loved it, she said:
“You better come up with the answer soon or else I will pop them”
John the remembered “Santa Maria!” He said with a weakly voice
“Correct, but I take you to long to answer, so I will do this, if you just don’t know the answer and don’t wanna suffer my feet pushing your balls hard until you answered correct you can choose to be kicked hard 5 times and the we pass to the next question, do you like that?”
“I think that’s better”
Then Maria noticed that John’s erection when even bigger and harder than before
“Oh my, you are a nasty boy, do you like me hurting your balls? Do this turns you on? Maybe it’s beacause I didn’t punished you hard enough... now get on your knees”
John did as Maria said, he get on his knees and spread her legs a little bit so she could have access to his manhood, he was in real pain but he loved it so much...
“As you like to be punished It will make you happy that now even if you respond correct to my questions I will kick your balls, if you respond incorrect I will just kick them harder and more times, like this!”
WHAAM, she sent a flying kick to John’s balls as he winced in pain and tried to cover his balls with his hands but Maria grabbed his hands and put them on John’s back locking them with some sticky tape, then she throws him another 4 full force kicks, John was trying his best to not fall and don’t close her legs, when she finished she said
“You took those very good John, and you still rock hard, we only have 30 minutes left so maybe today we won’t make more questions and I will show you ho I will torture your nuts if you didn’t answer correctly, stand up and put your balls on the table, you are gonna enjoy this, trust me”
As she smiled at the excitement she would get from busting his own student balls John got up and put his balls at the table, then, as she pressed his balls against the table with her bare hands, Maria asked John:
“Honey, what’s you favourite way of getting busted? Squeezed, me standing on your balls barefoot? With my pointy heel stilettos? A hard kick to your balls? You can choose how you want to be busted now, but we will do everyone of those don’t worry”
John’s balls were pretty sore and they still hurt from the trampling and kicks he revived before, but he was so horny so he asked for her fantasi
“I would like you to stand on my nuts with the heels of your stilettos please, not full weight, I don’t want to pop my balls, but make them ache”
John could see she was incredibly happy to bust his balls, she had a big smile on his face, the she told him:
“ I like it but I will do it only if you accept those conditions, first you got to ask me in a more polish and submissive way to please stand on your balls, and the second rule would be this, I will stand on your balls in top of the table, if you stand al the pain and don’t fall down I will give you a blowjob, don’t worry I won’t stand full weight, but if you fall, then I would pop one of your little nuts, I gave you the choice of what nut to me the one gone, so ready? Ask me how you want this”
John clearly wasn’t aware of the dangerous situation he was going to accept but his dick was so hard and so horny he desired to get a Maria’s blowjob, so he said:
“Please Maria, I would like you to offer my balls for you to stand on the with your heels, you can cause me as much pain as you want and stand as much time as you desire, also, if I fall from the pain I will give you one of my balls so you can pop it with your beautiful feet in those sexy stilettos, please, bust my balls as you like”
She was surprised as how much John wanted it and the she get up on the table and placed her heels at the top of each ball, he was facing him so she could see the face he make when she applies pressures:
“Thank you John, I will gratefully bust your balls, you are so cute, and no need to be scared, I will only stand here for 10 minutes, I promise you it won’t feel as much as it is, here we go!”
Then Maria applied half of her weight into John’s balls, he didn’t knew this would be that painful, the sharp heels made it worse, his knees were shaking and he almost fell down but he remembered that if he fell down ho would loose one but and wouldn’t get Maria’s blowjob he wanted so much, so he managed to stand even with the enormous pain he was suffering. Maria loved this and she even was wet, just seeing John’s face of pure agony makes her horny, also he loved the feel of being in control of a male and how his little balls were squeezing under her heels. 3 minutes passed and Maria started to touch herself as he put more pressure on her heels, almost 70% of her body weight, John was in so much pain he didn’t even noticed her teacher touching himself in front of him until much later, minutes passed and John was just staring at Maria’s pussy as he felt he was going to black out from the pain.
“You are doing so good John? I’m sure you can pass this, only one minute left and I will suck your dick, I believe in you baby”
Then, breaking her promise, she put all of her weight into John’s balls for the last 30 seconds, then she started listening some little crack noises, John couldn’t hear them because he was is so much pain and agony that he couldn’t feel anything besides the pain of his balls being crushed, those sounds were from John’s balls, they were good but at the edge of breaking, at the last second Maria jumped a bit at John’s balls and this almost caused the total rupture but after all her balls were still good, incredibly big and sore but nothing broke inside permanently, then she stepped off of John’s balls. John fall down to the ground the moment she free his balls amd he was crying in pain, the Maria told him:
“You done so good baby, for real, you withstand all of the tourture without falling down, now it’s okay to you to cry and fall and rest to heal your balls, but I’m afraid we just ran out of time, I won’t be able to give you the blowjob I promised because the two hours have just passed, time pass so quickly... now put your clothes and stand up, I will give you some homework and we will have the next class in a week, Thursday at 4 o clock sounds fine?”
John couldn’t answer because he was still in so much pain and could barely talk
“I think that’s a yes, at least I will take it as a yes since you don’t say anything, and for the rest of the week just let your nuts heal, I haven’t done permanent damage but I bet they hurt a lot, just rest your balls and they will be good for the next class to bust them again”
“But what about my blowjob?”
John said
“I’m sorry honey but we ran out of time, so I can’t give it to you, it a shame but I can’t do nothing”
Then John got up slowly, dressed himself and grabbed the homework she made for him, when he was about to leave Maria told him:
“Wait, are you gonna leave without thanking me for busting your balls?”
“Sorry Maria, thank you a lot for letting my worthless balls be crushed under your heels, I liked a lot”
John wasn’t happy because he didn’t get his desired blowjob, as she walked to him and said:
“You don’t got to be so sad, I won’t give you a blowjob but I can’t give you this”
And she sent a full force kick to John’s balls, the impact made him collapse to the ground as she laughed at him
“Hahahahaha, you’re so weak, I’m sure you would like me to suck down there but I won’t be this time baby, it was fun “teaching” you, see you in the next class”
And John leaved her house, his balls were so painful but after all he loved the experience and he was still rock hard, he thought to herself
“Hope the next time it would be same”
submitted by jojo242322 to BallbustingStories [link] [comments]

2018.10.30 20:32 MTLStoriesPaty How not to ruin Dia de Muertos

When you paint a calavera, whether on your face or on a skull, it is important that you understand the meaning of the colors you choose.
Rojo, or red, represents the blood in our bodies. Naranja, or orange, represents the sun. Amarillo, yellow, is the color of the cempaxuchitl flower of death. Morado, or purple, represents pain. Rosa, pink, is hope, purity and celebration. Blanco, white, also represents purity and celebration. Negro, or black, represents the soil of death, the soil of a tomb, the soil beneath our feet.
“Pero, what can jou do, mija? De gringos, dey only like some of our culture. And dey don’t even like all of us. So dey do whatever dey want with Dia de Muertos. Pero, is okay, I forgive dem,” she complained as she served me some platanos fritos.
“You’re cute, abuelita,” I said chuckling, “And they do like some of us. At least, the cute ones.”
I laughed, poking fun at her.
“Da truth is, I don care, mija. I jus wish da peopol knew de true meaning. Is important, jou know,” she lamented.
I nodded. I understood. My abuelita, grandma, had tried to make me understand the true meaning of Dia de Muertos for years and even I ignored most of it. I just wanted to decorate my calaveras and bake the pan de muerto, bread of the dead. Pan de muerto is a delicious little bun with bone markings on top in the shape of a circle to represent the circle of life. We finish it off by adding a small tear drop to represent the tears shed by the Aztec goddess Chimalma. She cries for the living, for it is said it is better to be dead.
When you visit the dead, you have to bring ofrendas so that they can enjoy the things they loved when they were alive, like us.
My abuelito liked tequila and frijoles molidos. So when we visited him for Dia de Muertos every November, we brought him both. He also played the guitarra and sang rancheras, so my abuelita brought the guitar and laid it on top of his tomb. I never met my abuelo because he had passed away many decades before I was born. But I had heard many stories about him all my life. In many ways, I grew up with him around, especially during Dia de Muertos since I could actually spend some time with him.
You see, I was seven years old when I first smelled him. I told my abuelita that I smelled something similar to a strong perfume, as we sat and ate tortas on top of his tomb. She immediately knew that it was him. He was known for wearing very strong cologne in his days. Apparently children’s senses are more susceptible to the presence of spirits.
“Nice to meet you, abuelito,” I said to him that afternoon, proud of my apparent super sense.
Latinos, although they largely identify as Christians, they also largely believe in the occult. This includes things as common as the horoscope from Walter Mercado, the most flamboyant and renowned astrologer on Latino TV… to as dark as brujeria and santeria.
I grew up on Wheaties and Youtube and social media and Super Bowl Sunday just like the rest of Americans. But I also grew up on tortillas and Telenovelas and Quinceañeras and Primer Impacto.
Most mornings, I’d wake up and have some cereal for breakfast. Then my abuelita would give me la “bendicion,” which consisted of her making the sign of the cross over my face as she said, “En el nombre del Padre, del Hijo, y del Espiritu Santo.” Then she would hand me my lunch box and give me advice from Walter Mercado.
Off to school I’d go, where I’d meet up with my best friend, Meghan. I learned a lot from her about the things I couldn’t learn at home with my abuelita. You know, important things. Like the new Justin Bieber song. Or the newest Instagram filter. In return, I gave her the horoscope from Walter Mercado, as she wanted to know what the most famous Puerto Rican astrologer had to say about her love life. You must understand, the love life of a 13 year old is extremely important at that age.
You see, Meghan had a huge crush on Craig Cohen. But when I say huge, I mean, it was like a pimple ready to be popped. If you didn’t pop it, it would surely combust on its own and leave a mean scar. So it was in her best interest to pop it.
Well, Craig was pretty oblivious to Meghan’s everlasting love. And she almost had a complete meltdown one afternoon when she saw Craig holding Leslie Silver’s hand in the courtyard. So, Meghan enlisted my abuelita and I to give her all of Walter Mercado’s horoscope to increase her chances of having Craig fall in love with her.
“This is it, Meghan!” I almost screamed at her that morning. “Walter said this is your week for love! But he says you have to take a chance for something to happen. And, you know, the Halloween ball is coming up so I thought… why not ask him out?”
“Oh my god! Oh my god! Okay! Okay,” She replied, barely breathing, “Try to find that book from your grandma. The one you told me about.”
“What?” I asked, not sure what she was talking about.
“You know,” she insisted, “the one with the skull on it.”
“Oh, shit,” I replied, “No. I can’t, Meghan. She told me it was strictly off limits and that she would cut off my hand if I used it.”
“Please! Please! Please! Pretty please! I’m certain this is what Walter Mercado means. Asking someone out is not taking a chance. A real chance is that book!” She begged, almost jumping on me.
I sighed, resigning myself to being a good best friend.
La Huesuda (the Bony Lady), La Niña de las Muchas Caras (the Girl of the Many Faces), La Santa Muerte (the Sacred Death). Those are some of the names for her. But her first name, her Aztec name, comes from long ago, Mictecacihuatl. Today, millions of people worship her, in spite of the Vatican’s claims that she represents hell and devastation. Most of her worshippers are Christians who believe that she protects, heals and helps to cross over into the after life.
The book Meghan spoke of was the one I had found in my parent’s room one afternoon. My abuelita never allowed me to enter their room because she claimed it was bad to disturb the room of the dead, but sometimes I liked to sit in there and think about them. I wondered what they had smelled like. And I wondered how could you miss someone you never really knew?
One afternoon, while in their room, I sat there wondering why my abuelita never took me to their tombs on Dia de Muertos. That’s when I saw the box that sat by the window. I went to look through it. There were rosaries and skulls and a thick book. The book had a drawing of a skull with a white robe over her head. I say her because she was decorated with jewels and flowers and bright colors. It was clearly a woman calavera. On the inside, my mom had written a note to my dad:
Para mi Amorsito,
Espero que logremos muchas cosas con nuestra Santísima Muerto a nuestro lado.
Que sea uno vida llena de salud, logros y amor.
Te amo,
Tu Catrina.
To my love,
May we accomplish many things with the Santisima Muerte by our side.
May this life be filled with health, achievements and love.
I love you,
Your Catrina.
I went on to the next page, which had a table of contents separated into many sections. The sections were love, health, work, education, revenge, death, life, children, past, present, future. I went to the first one and I quickly understood it was some kind of spell for love. It had an ingredient list followed by instructions. Just as I was about to really dig into it, my abuelita burst through the door.
“Que haces?!” She screamed at me. “Wat are jou doin? Get away! Don touch dat!”
She slapped the book right out of my hands.
“Jou never, ever, ever touch dat again? Jou understan? Yes? Entiendes? Nunca! Never! I cut jour hand off!”
I had never seen my abuelita this red and this angry. I was too embarrassed to meet her eyes. I simply nodded my head and ran out of the room as fast as I could. We never spoke about it again. Unfortunately, though, I made the mistake of telling Meghan about it. And now, she wanted me to fetch the book to help her get Craig.
Brujeria, witchcraft, can be performed by anyone, as long as they follow the instructions correctly. However, many books that teach brujeria are often missing important pieces. And, obviously, a 13 year old bruja wouldn’t know this.
“Ingredients,” I mumbled to myself as I read the list, ”Ewwwwww!”
“What? What is it?” Meghan eagerly asked, waiting for my translation.
“Umm,” I said, “Are you by any chance on your period?”
“Gross. Why?”
“Because,” I giggled, ”We’re going to need your used pad.”
“What?!” She asked, almost vomiting right there.
“That’s what it says,” I said, pointing to the list, “I mean, that plus lemon juice, garlic cloves and a candle… Oh! And some cinnamon. It says that menstrual blood is the most powerful source of brujeria that a woman produces. It says the blood is linked with the moon and the tidal waves. So it’s a strong attraction ingredient.”
“Well,” she hesitated, “I did have it last week and I haven’t emptied out my bathroom’s trash can yet.”
“Oh my god, Meghan. I’m seriously gonna be sick.”
“Sorry,” she answered, embarrassed.
That afternoon we went to her house in search for a used menstrual pad in the trash can. Lucky for us (sarcasm), she had more than one. Not to be gross, but we picked the heaviest one, as per the instructions. Then we poured some lemon juice, garlic and cinnamon on it as a candle sat lit next to us. We made quite a mess and listened to some pop music to lighten up to mood. It really wasn’t your typical brujeria environment I suppose. We finished it off by reading out loud some kind of incantation in an unknown language. It was all fairly easy for noobs. The next part, however, would be more challenging.
The following morning, we got to class before anyone else. We looked for Craig’s seat and took out the pad, which now smelled like a grotesque version of a cinnabon rolled in tilapia. As I pinched my nose, Meghan began rubbing the pad all over Craig’s seat. She did it for exactly 3 minutes, as the instructions stated. As soon as the 3 minutes were up, we ran outside to throw that miserable thing out in the trash can.
As the first bell rang, all the kids began to look for their seats. But as fate would have it, Craig never showed up. And because Craig’s seat was the most coveted seat in the classroom due to its proximity to the window, Andrew Moore plopped himself there after the second bell rang. Meghan and I were mortified.
“Here’s the thing. It clearly states that once you start it, you absolutely must finish it,” I insisted, reading the notes in the back of the book.
“I don’t care! I hate Andrew! He is the biggest loser in the school! I can’t! We can’t!”
“First of all, don’t exaggerate. The biggest loser in the school is James DuPont with his weird obsession of speaking only in poetic rhymes. Second, I just don’t see another way,” I explained, “Plus, we can always find something in the book to change it back. But we can’t just stop once we’ve started.
“I don’t care!” She exclaimed right before storming off.
There was nothing I could say or do to make her change her mind. I went home that night, worried and hoping that the whole thing wouldn’t work at all considering we hadn’t finished it. On the other hand, I was kind of glad that we wouldn’t have to finish it as the last part was the worst one. The instructions stated that we had to extract two drops of menstrual blood and plant them inside a drink for Craig to drink. Just the thought of it caused my gag reflex to activate.
That night was Halloween. It was the most perfect timing as it was a Friday night. Not that it made much a difference for me as my abuelita never let me got out. She believed it was against God’s wishes to celebrate Halloween. I wasn’t even allowed to give out candy.
Instead, we prepared for Dia de Muertos by getting our ofrendas ready for abuelito. We baked the pan de muertos. We went to buy the flowers of death to place over his tomb. We painted the calaveras together as we watched the Telenovelas on Univision. It was always very festive and fun so it did compensate for not being allowed to participate in Halloween. The following night would be Dia de Muertos, the first of November. It would also be the first time my abuelita would let me leave early from the cemetery to go to the Halloween Ball at my school.
All my tias and primas were at the cemetery that Saturday. It was filled with other Mexican-American and Central-American families like mine, enjoying the weekend with the spirits of their loved ones that had been long gone. The colors were vibrant. The people where filled with happiness. One family had even brought a mariachi to commemorate the death of a Tio who had been a singer back in Oaxaca before crossing the Rio to come the US. That is what I adored about Dia de Muertos in LA; it was a time for all of us to come together in spite of our struggles, in spite of everything. It was comforting to know we were all in this together. It was an important source of faith in humanity and energy to keep going.
As I began to eat some of the pan de muerto, bobbing my head along to the music, I smelled my abuelito’s cologne. By now I knew that it was his smell. And it always brought a calm over me to know that he really was watching me from above, protecting me. As I sat there, enjoying everything going on around me, I suddenly became nauseated as the familiar smell of cologne slowly turned into an awful and pungent smell. I began to cough up a storm and choke on the bread due to the rancid smell.
As my eyes watered from all the coughing, I realized I wasn’t the only one that was smelling it. Everyone’s face was twisting into prunes from the horrid stank that filled the air. And to my horror, the smell slowly became a familiar one. It was the smell of cinnabon. With a bloody, fishy twist.
We all left the cemetery in a hurry. All the families were horrified and whispering about the rancid air and its possible meaning. I kept my mouth shut, not wanting to reveal that it was my fault. It ruined Dia de Muertos for everyone.
Since the night at the cemetery had been cut short, my abuela volunteered to help me get ready for the dance. I was a ball of nerves as this would be the first dance for me. But my abuelita helped to calm me down. She had only allowed me to go to the Halloween dance because it was being held on Dia de Muertos and with the condition that I go representing it by being a calavera.
“La Catrina is a caricature of a calavera. Jou will be de prettiest girl at the ball, mija,” she said, smiling as she painted all sorts of colors on my face to create the most beautiful sugar skull I had ever seen.
“La Catrina,” I whispered to myself.
“Jou said Meghan also was gonna be La Catrina?” My abuelita asked.
“Yes, but she’s copying something off from the internet,” I replied.
“Ah, I see,” she replied, “But remember what I told jou? The colors, dey are important.”
“I know,” I replied, “But it’s just for one night, abuelita. I don’t think it’ll matter much for her.”
“Okay, jour right. Jus tell her to be careful becos tonight is Dia de Muertos and some of de bad spirits might be attracted because of her colors,” she explained before smiling and adding, “That’s why jou are a perfect combination of de right colors, mija. All finish!”
She had created a masterpiece. It was mesmerizing. It made all my worries go away for some odd reason. Maybe it was the idea that the colors on my face were made to protect me. Maybe it was the way my abuelita’s hands touched my face. It would be many years before I knew why that was. She was a curandera. A healer. But that’s something better left for another time.
Meghan, on the other hand, had her colors of the calavera all wrong.
“I got it from that famous makeup artist on instagram,” she explained, while taking a selfie.
“No, I mean, it’s beautiful. It’s just, considering the fact that you didn’t finish the instructions to the Santa Muerte book, and the fact that the colors can attract bad spirits because it’s the Day of the Dead tonight, I’m just saying… like, stay close to me because I can protect you.”
“Oh my god, Maya. Are you for real? You actually believe all this new age shit? That was just for fun, girl,” she said, laughing at me, attempting another selfie angle.
“First, this isn’t new age. This is old. And second, I smelled that awful smell today and-“
“Ugh,” she complained, “Stop it! Let’s go have some fun! It’s your first time out on a school night and I need Craig to see my costume!”
As we walked to the school, I felt the presence of something awful in the dark of the night. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but my senses were feeling heightened and on alert. It made me very panicky. But as we stepped inside the school, I felt better, safer.
There was a fog machine that filled the bottom half of our legs with a mist that made it seem like we were floating. They had spiderwebs at the entrance, making it seem like we were entering a spider’s dungeon. There was a witch to the left and a vampire to the right. They had purple and red laser lights moving all over the ceiling. They even had a pumpkin carving station, filled with kids carving all kinds of hysterical things. From the speakers blasted the song “Don’t fear the reaper,” one of my favorites. I giggled, remembering that I had convinced my abuelita that reaper meant teacher so she would let me listen to it on Saturday mornings when we cleaned the house.
“I don know why jou kids are always afraid of teachairs,” she would say, giggling and dancing along as the song played.
I always giggled watching her dance along to a song about death and dying. I was pretty bad ass. But not really.
“Maya, I see him,” Meghan suddenly said, pulling me to the corner of the room.
“I’m going to try to make a move. Go and enjoy yourself,” she said, smiling, the calavera colors so mismatched that it even made me feel uneasy.
She then walked away, leaving me completely and utterly alone. Looking back, Meghan was not the best of friends I suppose. I decided to take a trip to the tables with the foods. The perfect spot for an introvert to hang out at. On my way there, I ran into a collection of sexy vampires and witches and serial killers. I was really enjoying Halloween for the first time.
Just as I was about to grab some chips from the table, a person dressed in a robe stood in front of me, blocking the table from my hand’s reach. The robe was black, with red roses embroidered onto it. It was beautiful. I slowly moved my eyes toward the person’s face and was shocked to see the level of technique on the makeup.
“WOW,” I found myself saying, “You’re a calavera.”
It was a skull inside the robe. She was smiling wide, the boniest smile I had ever seen. She had a crown of flowers over her head and some jewels on the hem of the robe at the top. Her makeup was impeccable. As I looked deep into her face, mesmerized by the intricate design, I realized the eyes were not just a deep black shadow to create the illusion of hollowed out sockets. No. They were actually empty. There was nothing there. And suddenly, her smile twisted into a scream as she pointed with her scythe to something behind me. My heart almost fell out of my chest and I shrieked as I turned around and ran for it.
“There’s no running, Maya!” Mr. Todd screamed over the music as he grabbed my arm, almost making me fall.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, “I just really have to use the bathroom. I’ll walk.”
He let go off my arm and moved away, leaving empty space for me to see that the calavera was gone. I looked around but didn’t see her anymore. I shook my body a bit, relieving the tension, and then giggled at myself for being such a wimp. I turned back around to head to the bathroom, but as I walked towards the door, I saw what the calavera had been pointing at.
From one of the entrances of a hallway, stood a bizarre looking kid. He was standing, but clearly having a hard time staying that way. He was slouching, with one shoulder almost reaching his knees. His hair covered half of his face. His outfit looked dirty, like he had just rolled in the mud. His skin looked broken. He moved his head slowly, from side to side, looking at the entire room, as if his eyes couldn’t move if his head didn’t. I assumed he was dressed like some sort of zombie.
“Cool costume,” I said as I walked right next to him to go to the bathroom.
He turned to look at me and that’s when my heart sank. It was Andrew. The kid that had sat at Craig’s seat the day before. And he smelled like a fucking cinnabon that had been rolled in salmon. I gagged as I moved away, horrified.
Andrew opened his mouth and slowly roared at me as one of his teeth fell out. His gums were rotting and I even saw a maggot popping out from the side of his nose. It was clearly not a costume. At this point, I ran to the bathroom and hit inside a stall.
I sat on the toilet, worried about everything I had just seen… and smelled. I tried to call Meghan but she didn’t pick up. I then texted her.
I heard someone come inside the bathroom and realized it would probably be better to be at the dance rather than inside an empty bathroom all alone. I slowly walked outside of my stall, half waiting to see something awful in the bathroom with me, like you do in horror movies. Thankfully it was just Jennifer Gonzalez who was fixing her lipstick in front of the mirror.
“Cool calavera. My abuelita paints them too. You celebrate Day of the Dead?” She asked, turning to face me.
“Oh, umm, yes. My abuelita did this one for me,” I replied, still a ball of nerves.
“Cool,” she said, turning back around to finish fixing her lipstick on the mirror, “Well, stay alert. Abuelita always says that Dia de Muertos is not just for the good spirits. Sometimes other things come back to life too. But you’ve got the good colors on your calavera.”
She closed her lipstick and popped her lips.
“Happy Halloween,” she said, before leaving the bathroom.
“Thanks, you too,” I said.
After she left, I looked at myself in the mirror.
“Abuelita picked Rosa because it signifies hope and celebration. Naranja for the sun. And a little bit of black for the power of death itself. I can do this. I can do this,” I said to myself, getting up the courage to walk out and find Meghan.
I walked out of the bathroom, ready to face my demonios. I was feeling powerful and determined. But as I walked closer and closer to the dance, I began to hear people’s cries and shrieks and screams. They got louder and louder. It was horrifying. I ran to the entrance of the dance.
The students were huddling around the center of the room as the teachers attempted to break up some kind of fight. Most of the time, when there were fights at my school, the kids would scream “fight! fight! fight!” as if we were on some kind of Jerry Springer episode. But this time, they cried in terror. I tried to make out what it was when finally, one of the teachers got up, his hands bleeding from a cut.
That’s when I saw everything. It was Andrew. On top of Meghan. I only knew it was Meghan because I recognized the little black dress she was wearing. He had one of the carving tools in his hand from the pumpkin station. He had carved out her face. Her eyes were missing. Her nose was missing. Her lips were completely gone. She was a real life calavera. It was horrifying. All the kids screamed and screamed as if the screams could somehow bring Meghan’s face back.
I walked closer, not realizing how close I had gotten at this point when suddenly, Andrew looked up at me.
“Soil,” he mumbled, looking sad and confused.
“Oh,” I said, “But that’s not soil. That’s Meghan’s face.”
“GET AWAY! GET AWAY!” A teacher suddenly screamed at me, pushing me away.
They evacuated the building and made us call our parents to come pick us up. I called my abuelita who showed up with my Tia Dolores to pick me up. In tears, I admitted it all to my tia and my abuelita on the car ride home. The book, the menstrual pad, the mixup, the fact that we didn’t finish it. As my tia parked in our driveway, they both sat in silence for a while. Finally, my tia spoke.
“Maya, brujería is very powerful. And La Santa Muerte can bring about misfortune to your life. Mi hermana, your mom, she lost herself in that world and took your dad with her,” she solemnly said. That was the most I had ever heard about my dead parents. She then added, “That boy, Andrew, we have to fix him. Do you still have the book?”
I said yes.
“We will go inside the house and fix this,” she said.
“We can fix Meghan?” I asked, hopeful but wondering how that was even possible.
“Of course not, Maya. Meghan is gone. Those are the consequences of your actions. But we can fix the boy and stop La Santa Muerte from doing anything to you as well. She is vengeful if you don’t obey her,” she replied.
My abuela never said anything the entire time. I felt awful.
We walked inside the house and my Tia told me to sit down on a chair and not to move from there. So I did that. From there, I saw them light candles, cook herbs, light incense from a special box I had never seen. It was all very serious, not at all like what Meghan and I had done. Then they prayed for a very long time, with what I can only describe as great conviction and belief. When it was all over, I felt a calm over my entire body. It was as if my muscles had been stretched out and taken to the spa.
My abuelita finally came over to me and caressed my hair. It felt amazing.
“You opened a portal but you didn’t close it. And you opened it inside that poor boy, Andrew. And because it is the Dia de Muertos, a spirit must have entered the opened portal. But I don’t think the spirit was not a bad one. He simple wanted to go home. He was attracted to her due to the blood, most likely. Thinking it was home, he dug into her face. All that black makeup of Meghan’s calavera must have confused him. Or… maybe the Santa Muerte herself made him believe the black makeup was the ground. The soil… of death. An evil illusion for disobeying her. I don’t really know. It’s just theories,” my tia explained.
“Will he be able to go home, tia?” I asked.
“The spirit? Yes,” she replied, “He will go home.”
“And Andrew?”
“Well,” she said, “At the very least he won’t have a spirit stuck inside him. But, I don’t know, it depends what the police and court decide to do with him. We prayed for his best outcome but I can’t promise anything. He might end up in prison for a long time.”
“I’m so so-“ I began.
“Mija,” my abuela interrupted me, finally breaking her silence of hours to me, “Mija, what is done, is done. Jour moder, tu mama, was a bruja. A strong one. It keeled her. Jou must stop. Jou can not be like her. She brought great pain to our familia.”
I nodded, crying.
My tia nodded as well, “It’s true. You have bruja blood in you. Which is not a good thing, regardless of what you may think. It only brings misery and pain to your life. Look at you now. You will never be the same. And you will blame yourself for the rest of your life. So it’s best you never touch any kind of brujeria book ever again. Especially not one belonging to La Santa Muerte.”
I nodded, wiping my tears.
My abuelita continued to caress my head as I layed down and closed my eyes. Slowly falling asleep, I smelled the familiar smell again. It was the cologne. My abuelito had also forgiven me for my deadly and fatal bruja actions. He watched over me on Dia de Muertos as I dreamt about colourful calaveras, yellow flowers of death and delicious sugar candies from Oaxaca.
A word of advice, if you decide to paint a calavera on your face this Halloween, make sure, at the very least, you know the meaning of the colors.
submitted by MTLStoriesPaty to nosleep [link] [comments]

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