The Last Mariachi (Fin)

The ground’s mist mirrored my mind’s panic as I ran. I lost track of whether I had passed that damned shack… 4, maybe 5 times?

The music which had calmed me only a short time ago now grated itself across my ears like a cat’s tongue. I tried running perpendicular to the road, risking the chance of getting lost in the desert, but I only returned to the same spot.

I glanced upwards and found that moon hadn’t shifted in the sky one iota. Spent, I plunked down on the ground to try to collect myself. It wasn’t a simple task, with the constant invasion of the strumming from that old guitar.

‘Da Capo’… I looked at the sign curiously. That wasn’t spanish… The phrase wandered around in my head and finally connected with my old high-school band lessons. ‘Da Capo’… Repeat from beginning.

With a giggle of desperation, I grabbed a nearby piece of white rock. Beneath the existing phrase I scratched the words ‘al coda’ and set off toward my destination, the music fading one last time.

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