Estaba bien ventoso esa tarde. That afternoon the wind has really howling por doquiera. Canutito was really clinging to his chaqueta as he hurried home después de la escuela. Pero ese viento maldito seemed intent on tearing away his jacket. Era el Día de los Difuntos. This wind made this Day of the Dead rather spooky. Canutito paused por un momento to fasten his chaqueta. When he glanced up rather unexpectedly, he saw a un hombre standing al lão del camino. The startled boy saw him waving sus brazos at him.
In the darkening shadows del afternoon sun, he looked poco más intently al hombre. He was very thin; bien galgo and he was wearing old clothes que hacían flap about en el viento. Under his old hat Canutito could almost see his face. Su cara tenía una sonrisa that made his skin crawl. He had both of his arms outstretched as if he meant to grab al muchachito. Canutito gave out a startled yelp del espanto, pero when he looked up otra vez, el hombre was no longer there. Había desaparecido.
Canutito suddenly got the willies y comenzó a correr. He ran and ran bien rápido all the way home. Cuando llegó pa'la casa todo out of breath, Grampo Caralampio met him at the door. ¿Qué te pasa, m'hijo?" he asked the boy. "Parece como que you've seen a ghost."
"I think I may have, grampo!" Canutito gasped, reaching por un vaso de agua. As he gulped down his glass of water, he blurted out: "Grampo, I saw a un very thin old man standing at the side of road con los brazos outstretched like he wanted to grab me pero suddenly he wasn't there y el viento was blowing all about."
"What you are describing, m'hijo," grampo said to him, "es un Descarnado; one of the Unfleshed People. Ellos son spirits de los muertos who stand by the side of the road en un día como hoy, porque they have lost their way into the Land of the Dead. Usually están standing next to a descanse y eso hace indicate que they spilt their lives en ese lugar. They don't mean any harm pero if you don't know quienes son, entonces they can scare los daylights out of you."
¿Por qué es que los Descarnados stand by the roadside, grampo?" Canutito asked him.
"They are trying to find a ride a sus destinaciones," grampo replied. "If you should pick one up y darle un ride, they will get en el carro, smile really big; bien agradecidos, and then disappear right in front of your very eyes.
"Is there any way of getting rid de los Descarnados and put them to rest, grampo?"
"When you got to the place donde estaba el muerto, and pray for them y darles permiso para continuar into eternity, m'hijo," Grampo Caralampio said.
Canutito saw grampo reaching for his jacket and he knew que tenía que salir con él and lead him to the place donde vio al Descarnado. He walked slowly trying de hacer tiempo hoping que it would be dark antes de llegar to the side of the road. Al fin they got to the spot. "Es éste el lugar, m'hijo?" grampo yelled above the howling wind.
"¡Sí, grampo!" Canutito yelled back mientras que el viento carried away his answer.
Grampo stood in the wind praying 'el Sudario' to release the wayward soul para pudiera ir forward into the next world. When grampo finally said "Amén," Canutito felt better.
As they turned to go, Canutito saw algo like rags flapping en el viento. He let out a little yell. Grampo went over and picked something up. Era un espantajo; un old scarecrow with a painted smile on its face that had fallen down por tanto viento …