The Plain in Flames by Juan Rulfo

Old women, daughters of evil!

I saw them coming all together, in a procession. Dressed in black, sweating like mules under the sheer rays of the sun. I saw them from far off, raising dust as if they were a mule train. Their faces made ashen by dust. Black, all of them. They came on the road from Amula, singing between their prayers, in the heat, with their huge, blackened escapularios onto which the sweat from their faces fell in great drops.