The Five Acts of Diego Leon Read Online Free PDF Page B

yarn undone and wrapping around its tail. On another shelf there were keys of different shapes and sizes. There were crosses and Holy Spirit doves sandpapered smooth.
    And then there were the masks. Some had forked tongues sticking out of opened mouths, their heads crowned with horns or spikes. Others looked like old men, wearing wide grins, their teeth chipped or missing. In the setting sun, the shadows of his carvings danced and leapt across the walls and floor. All around him, the figures elongated, their bodies stretching and bending and contorting. The forked tongues of the masks wiggled around like those of hissing snakes. The eagle’s wings fanned out, and its beak swelled almost to the size of Diego’s head. The monkey’s arms reached out, and he imagined them wrapping around his body, its hands tightening around his neck. The tip of the rhino’s horn rested just above the doorway, swallowed it whole, trapping him inside. They circled around Diego, stalking him like prey, and he remained there, motionless, scared of making any sudden moves. He felt as if he’d fallen down a deep well, the daylight absent, only darkness and shadows, when he felt a tap on his shoulder.
    “You saw them, didn’t you?” the old man said, laughing.
    “No,” Diego said, still afraid to move. “I …” he began then looked closer now; the figures had stopped moving.
    “The masks are here,” said José, leading him to an overturned trunk strewn with more carvings of animals and birds, saints and crosses, arms and mouths. “All you have to do is pick your face. Pick the one that suits you.”
    There were five of them, all rowed neatly, one next to the other. Their noses were sharp points that appeared not human at all, but more like those of ferocious and unnamed beasts. Creases ran across their foreheads and rows of crooked teeth were set deep within twisted smiles, pulling their cheeks upward. They were painted pink, mimicking skin, and strands of yarn were glued to the tops and sides of each head. He was afraid to touch them, to run his finger over their lips and brows. Their eyes were narrow slits, without pupils, only hollow eye sockets that stared upward, looking past the straw roof and up to the sky, at something so large, so ominous that Diego recoiled.
    “Which one?” asked José. “Any of the five.”
    But Diego couldn’t decide.
    After some time, José said, “Very well. I will pick for you.” He took one, wrapped it in newspaper, and handed it to him. “Good luck, young man,” he said.
    “Thank you,” Diego said, and he tucked the mask under his arm, turned, and left.
    He had carefully laid out the outfit the night before and, on the day of the festivities, he took his time dressing, handling the outfit with gentle, delicate touches, as he fastened the cotton trousers around his waist, pulled the shirt over his head, and draped the gold and blue serape across his chest. Diego placed the mask inside the morral, which had been hand-knitted with bright yarn and fabric, and slung the bag over his left shoulder. He regarded himself now in the outfit Elva had purchased, and Diego knew that it was important for him to take good care of it, to not dirty or ruin it. He felt resplendent in the outfit, noble, like a warrior or priest. If his father came, he would notice Diego and be proud of him. The embroidered designs along the hems of the pants and cuffs of the shirt were like bright strings of sugar laced together so delicately, their patterns forming roses, hummingbirds, and butterflies. He clutched his straw hat—the long strips of blue, red, and yellow paper glued around its rim so that they hung down along the sides and front—and the cane Elvahad fashioned from a sugar stalk, grabbed his things, and ran off to the church.
    Elva had made sure to tell his father and Luis about the festivities the day before. Luis had nodded and said he would surely make it.
    “What do you say, Gabriel?” he asked Diego’s