Substratum

The letter stated that they wouldn’t let us in. Despite the signatures of the project director and the department dean, the letter read: “it is with deep regret that such request has not been granted.” Ella and I had probably read the paragraph twenty times while stumbling down the inclined street where the house was located. But the two-story stone house was not our concern. It was the abandoned circular cemetery within its grounds that needed a thorough investigation.

The house that covered the cemetery had a gate made of wrought iron about the same height as that of the mango tree in front of it. If we were to climb the fence, then we could probably jump to the cemetery and hope that the dog had not yet been unleashed. Beyond the gate, passers by could peek at the three-story structure that had no balcony or porch and painted gray from the ground floor to its small tower, which could be climbed to view the expanse of the bay in the horizon. All of its sliding louvers were shut and encased in diamond-shaped metal grills. Behind the house, the arched entrance of the cemetery made of bricks and adobe could be seen by jumping up a foot high. Ella rang the doorbell. After fifteen seconds of tapping her shoes on the concrete floor, she pressed the button again. We heard a dog bark after her third attempt, so we lurched backwards and returned to the sidewalk.