Growing up in Los Angeles (Part Nine): Conjuring up Monsters and Ghosts in L.A.

Part 9: Conjuring up Monsters and Ghosts in L.A.

by Armando Ortiz

My fourth grade class was not immune to superstition. We’d occasionally hear stories from different kids that lived near the school that the house next to our school came alive once the sun set. Noises were heard from the halls, abandoned rooms let out a slow hum, and a lot of booze was spilled by the cholitos. Some of the kids would tell us that if we stepped inside that empty shell of a house we wouldn’t make it out alive. Another story told by other classmates was that of Bloody Mary.

Bloody Mary could appear in the bathroom if you stood in front of the mirror and called out her name several times. The mirror would turn into a window and she’d come out of the glass and snatch kids away. One of my classmates even had the good fortune of escaping but not before she changed one of the shoes he was wearing into something completely different. Because of this, it was believed that Bloody Mary did, in fact, exist. I sort of believed the story, but there was something within me that made me go to the public library and get to the bottom of this.

One day, after school was over I went directly to the local public library nearest to my house, which was on Olympic. Eventually the library became a dental office and finally an aquarium. Today that place is painted in navy blue with gold fish floating on the concrete blocks. Occasionally one spots the acronym of the locals that claim that as their territory and who’ve seem to have dug in deep roots. The Korean man that owns the aquarium has no clue what was there before he moved in and who are the thugs that spray paint on his wall.

I walked into the library and asked the librarian for help. Inside were books, and the mellow yellow glow from the lights made the walls, books and furniture have a dark beige aqua tint aura. The librarian looked ancient, but was very kind and helpful. I wanted to find out more about Bloody Mary, if she had really existed and eaten her kids and drank their blood. Of course what I was undertaking was tantamount to learning things from the occult, but I was not frightened away, somehow I had this belief that a book would have concrete information about this so-called Bloody Mary. The book was opened by the librarian. Her slow moving fingers that looked like dried mango peels directed me to the section that talked about Bloody Mary. In that small section I discovered that she had been the Queen Mary the First of England, and that she had had several miscarriages, which at that time I wasn't sure what it meant. Then right below that was some information about a drink that involved some vegetable juice and alcohol.

What was odd about this whole superstitious event was that it permeated into our regular student lives. Bloody Mary could be summoned in the bathroom of our school, and could even change your shoes to give you a good scare. I tried calling Bloody Mary a few times, and I was really scared. The times I tried it I expected glowing red eyes on the other side of the reflective glass but only my own reflection could be seen. I prayed before calling out her name, and I was glad that nothing happened afterwards.

What was a story about the Queen of England  doing in our elementary school? Well, the only explanation is that we were students in the US and we were growing up in a community that had its strange beliefs of “La Llorona,” “Judas,” “El Cucuy,” and “El Chupacabras,” but we were also, by osmosis, being exposed to the greater culture that existed. Of course all the names mentioned above plus Blood Mary created fear in us. We’d debate amongst ourselves trying to figure out the overall profile of the Blood Mary. Some said that she had long bloody fingernails that were dripping in calves blood, while others just mentioned the eyes that glowed red or green. No one ever really had a good view of her because they were too scared to stick around and see her come out of the mirror. Yet, it left one wondering. None of my classmates ever did disappear because they’d called her name. 

Growing up in Los Angeles (Part Eight): El Piojito

Growing up in Los Angeles (Part Ten): Church Services in L.A. - Mysterious Visitors