When I was a wee little pinto bean, my father used to tell me tales involving Papa Chon, my great-grandfather. Papa Chon once won the heart of a village girl named, Rosa. Now Rosa was very beautiful, and her father very protective. He didn’t find Papa Chon a suitable suitor for his dear Rosa and forbid them from seeing each other. Young love, however, would not be foiled. Papa Chon did what any self-respecting El Salvadorian male of his era would do. He decided to steal Rosa away in the night.Rosa agreed to meet Papa Chon by section of boulders on her father’s land. Midnight arrived, and so did the dashing Papa Chon, smoking a cigar and riding his imposing steed―ah, well, mule.There in the moonlight waited his beloved Rosa. Upon seeing Rosa, Papa Chon’s majestic stallion jerked and dug his hooves into the ground attempting to gallop away from Rosa. Papa Chon yanked on the reigns, struggling to maneuver his stallion toward Rosa. Rosa climbed the boulders and slipped onto the mule. The mule went wild, bucking and shaking, trying desperately to throw Papa Chon and Rosa. Rosa’s grip tightened, piercing Papa Chon’s skin. Papa Chon veered to find Rosa was gone. In her place rode the laughing skeleton of the Siguanaba, the ghost of a woman who targets men. The Siguanaba had Papa Chon, and was taking him to the spirit world. Thank goodness Papa Chon was up on his thwarting-evil-entities knowledge. He blew his cigar smoke in the Siguanaba’s face (evil hates cigar smoke) and lifted his machete. He bit the blade three times, signifying The Crucifix, and swung. Papa Chon’s strike failed to harm her, but the action forced the Siguanaba from his mount. Papa Chon watched her form fade into the night while the echo of her devilish laughter drifted around him. According to my father, Papa Chon and his mule then hauled ass (no pun intended).
Papa Chon searched for Rosa, believing her family had somehow tricked him. Rosa was gone. So was her family. No one ever saw them again.
Okay. Call my father’s tale crazy. Call Papa Chon in need of medication. Call me a kid who had to fall asleep with the lights on. But it was this very tale (and more) that triggered my imagination. I have always told stories―the wilder, the scarier, the funnier, the better. I didn’t think to put my creativity to good use until a few years ago when I began writing my Urban Fantasy Romance Series, WEIRD GIRLS.
WEIRD GIRLS is about four unique sisters who’ve obtained their powers as a result of a backfired curse placed upon their Latina mother for marrying outside her race. Do I incorporate Papa Chon stories in my novels? Not quite. But I do integrate the action, suspense, and twisted humor associated with a good Papa Chon tale.
Papa Chon passed his gift of story-telling onto my father who in turn passed it to me. Whether his tales are true, or simply the imagination of a man looking to entertain doesn’t matter. He inspired his great-granddaughter to tell her stories of demons, witchcraft, and scary beasties that bump hard in the night. And for that, I am truly grateful. Rest in peace, Papa Chon.
Cecy Robson, Author with Penguin’s SIGNET ECLIPSE
THE WEIRD GIRLS: A Novella, Dec. 4th, 2012
SEALED WITH A CURSE: A Weird Girls Novel, Dec. 31, 2012
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