{"id":277,"date":"2025-11-06T23:37:02","date_gmt":"2025-11-06T23:37:02","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/21-1\/?page_id=277"},"modified":"2025-11-06T23:58:27","modified_gmt":"2025-11-06T23:58:27","slug":"the-vanilla-march","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/21-1\/fiction\/the-vanilla-march\/","title":{"rendered":"The Vanilla March"},"content":{"rendered":"

Barlow Crassmont<\/span><\/p>\n

L<\/strong><\/span>ouis Garcia found the silence worse than unwanted noise.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The reticence rendered time a cumbersome nuisance, and turned reality trivial. In comparison, his heartbeat sounded boisterous. Thump-thump, thump-thump. It made the hair on his arm stand. He would\u2019ve preferred the wailing of a tortured cat, even nails dragged across a chalkboard – anything but this. The ominous quiet reminded him of a concealed doom waiting to pounce from within the shadows.<\/span><\/p>\n

Maybe they\u2019ll stay away if I wish for them to. <\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

As a child, he prayed for a set of pirinola toma todo<\/em> set for his sixth birthday. He sat on the old, dusty rug in their home in the Mexican village of Patzcuaro, humming to the Macarena<\/em> music video that played on their antiquated TV set. The song was slaying the billboards both north and south of the border. While most local adults thought it derivative and unimaginative, young Louis found himself repeating the silly repetitive lyrics during every waking moment – even at nighttime, when he struggled to fall asleep without counting this or that farm animal infinitum.<\/span><\/p>\n

A few days later, when his father had returned from the fields, dirt and mud composing his figure more than clothes and flesh, he held his son\u2019s desire in his left hand. Little Louis\u2019 grin extended from ear to ear as he leapt at his old man in unabashed joy. So it was true what they said. Pray often enough, and God will eventually respond.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

He hadn\u2019t made such an invocation in decades. But if any occasion called for it, this was it. Excessive perspiration and a dry mouth always made Louis wish for that which he didn\u2019t have.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cThey\u2019re done for the day,\u201d Isabella whispered, her muffled syllables echoing across the wooden floor. \u201cWe can relax.\u201d<\/span>
\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cLike hell, we can,\u201d Roberto said. His forehead was glossier than a waxed floor. The trio lay in a tight space no bigger than a slightly wider coffin, crafted in the kitchen\u2019s floor.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cUntil tomorrow – I mean (whispering), until tomorrow.\u201d<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cI heard they play music\u2026 uhm, I forgot the name of the artist\u2026 some one-hit wonder, back from thirty years ago\u2026 they play it over a loudspeaker,\u201d Roberto said. \u201cTo put an extra scare in everyone.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cWouldn\u2019t the announcement of their arrival give everyone a chance to run and hide?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cThey don\u2019t think we got anywhere to go.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The ensuing days delivered heartbreaking news. Whispers, rumors, and gossip resonated down the building\u2019s hallways, like echoes across a rugged mountain range. Adjacent walls produced cipher taps that recalled Morse Code of yesteryear. Several raids took place across the Pilsen neighborhood. Locals feared Belmont Cragin to be next. Parents separated from children, brothers from sisters, husbands from wives. Tears, agony and grief were all the armed, concealed brutes left in their wake.<\/span><\/p>\n

Louis, Roberto and Isabella moved lightly within their tiny kitchen, like weightless apparitions. On most days, they didn\u2019t use the stove. It was too noisy. The majority of their meals consisted of refrigerated food. Cold cuts, stale bread and an occasional spread. Mustard, mayonnaise, salsa. Whatever they still had.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBeatriz was taken two days ago,\u201d Isabella said.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHer mother must be devastated,\u201d Roberto said.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDamn,\u201d Louis said, staring into the empty freezer. \u201cNo ice.\u201d In his hand was a bubbling soda, which his face judged with mouth twisted sideways. \u201cIt\u2019s warm. There\u2019s never ice when you need it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cCareful there,\u201d Roberto chuckled.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d Louis said. \u201cI\u2019m just sayin\u2014\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBoth of you,\u201d Isabella carelessly raised her voice. \u201cShhh!\u201d Her finger was planted across her lips.<\/span><\/p>\n

Louis\u2019 heart sank to the pit of his stomach, like an overweight anchor. \u201cIs\u2026 is that\u2026?\u201d Roberto\u2019s bulging eyes and Isabella\u2019s sudden paleness confirmed the worst. Subsequently, Louis\u2019 grip on the soda loosened. The glass fell, shattering on the floor. Its crash echoed across time and space. The trio crawled back into the hiding space, covering themselves with the appropriate boards.<\/span><\/p>\n

For the longest, they nearly held their breath. Eyes closed tighter than blinds, bodies still as graves. The faint sound of their heartbeats slowed, mimicking a clock running on a drained battery.<\/span><\/p>\n

The first knock was raucous, the ensuing one more so. \u201cDHS! Open up!\u201d The clamor sent chills down their spines. Then a large black boot shattered the door without delay, sticking inwards like an infernal serpent. Several men with bulletproof vests stormed the unit. Batons, pistols, shotguns, tasers: they had it all. On their chests, a familiar acronym\u2019s font burned the retina. Through the floor\u2019s crack, Louis watched with an apprehension that was equal amounts disappointment.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNot the kind I had in mind,\u201d<\/em> he whispered. His words were quieter than wind, hardly heard even by Isabella. Yet, their emittance was all the armed men needed. The utterance was smelled rather than heard by the humanoid hounds.<\/span><\/p>\n

A bulky fellow smiled while looking down at the floor. He pointed his shotgun towards the concealed trio, then exclaimed, \u201cBeaners in sight. There. Grayson, use the crowbar to pull that board.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The plywood was peeled off quicker than a crusty scab over a healing wound. The three immigrants were exposed, resembling a trio of frightened children.<\/span><\/p>\n

And rightfully so.<\/span><\/p>\n

In lieu of faces commonly associated with the feared Department, the quartet towering over them possessed ghastly features. Monstrous countenances. Eyes glowing with red. Horns protruding from their oval shaped heads. Grimacing, they revealed sharp teeth from their slimy mouths. Their hands were composed of claws rather than fingers.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDios mio!\u201d cried Isabella. Roberto crossed himself several times; yet little salvation was in sight. Louis uttered a muted prayer, just before the outdoor screams resonated. In a flash, the noises escalated tenfold. Bloodcurdling, ear piercing shrieks that crushed silence as easily as fingers crumble a plastic cup.<\/span><\/p>\n

With eyes closed, Louis took a deep breath, and resigned to his fate. He embraced the vociferous outdoor wailing as a welcome change.<\/span><\/p>\n

Good to know we\u2019re not the only ones. And the silence is gone, at least. Silver lining in everything.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\nBarlow Crassmont Louis Garcia found the silence worse than unwanted noise. \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The reticence rendered time a cumbersome nuisance, and…\n<\/div>\n
Continue reading “The Vanilla March”<\/span>…<\/a><\/div>\n","protected":false},"author":81,"featured_media":0,"parent":14,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-277","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry","entry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/21-1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/277","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/21-1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/21-1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/21-1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/81"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/21-1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=277"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/21-1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/277\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":280,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/21-1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/277\/revisions\/280"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/21-1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/14"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/21-1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=277"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}