CASA MUERTE

Svetlana built this dark house where the trees crowd close and the fog lingers after sundown. Iron fencing, narrow windows, and a crooked porch give strangers every reason to keep walking. The name Casa Muerte glows inside like a warning she does not have to speak aloud.

Behind the door are green lit specimens, medical equipment, old portraits, a stone cooking fire, and rooms dressed in black and red. Some of it is decoration meant to frighten trespassers, while some of it carries memories Svetlana will not explain. Upstairs, she keeps the last remains of the husband she could not bear to leave behind.

I cannot say every choice in this house sits easy with me, but grief can make a person hold tight to what ought to be given over to God. Casa Muerte keeps the curious at a distance and lets Svetlana mourn in private. I pray the warm lamps and living plants remind her that death does not get the final word.