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Mi Pueblo Maldito Dónde La Maldad Está Al Acecho - Historias De Terror - Voces De La Noche · Niebla en el bosque con Evelith von

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From the first day I came to this world. My life was already marked
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by man' s lack and evil and ambition. I am the third son
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of a large family, made up of my father, my mother, my
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older brother Adam, my sister Inés and my two sisters, Ana and Anais.
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My life from the beginning was woven with threads of mystery and suffering.
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Over the years I have desperately sought to remember the exact whereabouts of that town
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where I grew up. However, the mist of time abhorred crucial details of
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my memory. The only thing I can say for sure is that it is
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somewhere in the vast country of Mexico. Since my mind began to become aware,
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I could not realize that what I was seeing was not normal. As
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a child knew nothing beyond those limits, he believed that primitive reality was the
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norm all over the world. I never dared to question her in the illusion
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that everyone shared our isolated destiny in that forgotten corner. Technology was something we
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didn' t even know about. There were no phones, computers, TVs,
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we didn' t even know the existence of the radio. The Community
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lived in a sort of Arcaic Communion, where barter reigned as the only form
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of exchange, we did not know what money was. If you needed anything,
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you had to offer something of value equivalent to the person who could provide
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it to you. The education we received was as limited as our interactions with
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the outside world. In addition to restrictions on human sexuality, any hint of
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a larger or different world was prohibited. The teaching was strictly religious and the
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only book allowed for children was the Bible. Our life, our beliefs and
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our decisions were based exclusively on the interpretations that the Community gave to sacred scriptures.
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We were all trying to follow the word of God to the letter,
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but the lack of understanding of the true teachings created a breeding ground for suffering.
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My years in that town were a constant agony. The restrictions, the
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lack of freedom and dogmatic education created a bitter cocktail of suffering every day was
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a reminder of the prison in which we lived, where those who were to
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love us and protect us threw us into the wolves. Today, as I
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chronicle my story in chronological order, it entertained the hope that my words will
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reach someone who has escaped from that hell. I hope my testimony inspires others
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to share information about the location of that cursed place. I would like the
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authorities to investigate and for every child born in those lands to have the opportunity
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to live free, away from the nightmare I experienced, that the truth should
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come to light and that justice be the balm for broken souls. My story
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has no end, for the fate of that people and its dark secrets is
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yet to be revealed. Like every little boy. I never questioned my surroundings
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much. I accepted the daily tasks that life in that town imposed. From
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the moment I was right, I knew that it was my duty to contribute
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to the work of the household, to take care of the livestock and to
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adapt to an existence illuminated by candles and oil lamps, since electricity was an
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alien and unimaginable concept. I think it is not surprising what has never been
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had, so the lack of modern comforts did not particularly affect me. However,
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the first crack in my perception of reality manifested itself when I was about
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five or seven years old in that environment. Then she attended elementary school in
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a modest living room built with palm leaves. Children between the ages of five
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and ten shared classes in the morning, while children between the ages of eleven
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and fifteen did so in the afternoon. The curriculum was limited to Bible readings
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and discussions about the feelings they aroused. In addition, they taught us basic
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skills, such as reading, writing, adding and subtracting I grew up immersed
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in that environment, without having the slightest idea of more advanced concepts, such
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as multiplication or division in that people. Education ended at the age of fifteen
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and this coincided with the legal age for being considered an adult in the Community.
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Fifteen years old marked the time when you had to leave childhood to become
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an adult member actively contributing to the community. It also involved getting married and
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starting to form a family in s s s s NS. The transition to
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adulthood seemed more like a rite imposed by the Community than a personal choice.
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The seed of doubt was sown in my mind on a particular day, as
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the teacher read us the Hobbe story. For those who do not know basically,
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this biblical narrative relates the life of a man who was favored by God,
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prospered and thanked constantly for his blessings. However, satan challenges God by
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arguing that Job only worships him because he is doing well. God accepts the
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challenge and allows Job to lose everything, thus demonstrating the eternal loyalty expected of
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his followers. While reading this story, I wondered why God, being omniscient,
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would allow Job to suffer so much just because of a bet with Satan
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was about to share my thoughts with the teacher. When one of the girls
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asked a similar question, the teacher' s reaction was disproportionately violent. He
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lifted her by the hair and went out with her from the classroom, leaving
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them alone and creating a silence full of fear. The morning after that incident,
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the teacher returned to the classroom as if nothing had happened. However,
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the absence of the girl who dared to question God’ s word did not
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go unnoticed among the children. Five days passed without anyone seeing her again.
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A strange anomaly in a community where the lack of someone was easily noticed.
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The prevailing indifference to his absence was surprising, but even more disconcerting was the
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lack of questions about his whereabouts. Among the children. Rumors spread suggesting that
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the child’ s disappearance was a divine punishment. The widespread belief was that
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God had punished her for doubting his word. However, when the girl finally
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reappeared the cruel truth that was revealed, the children realized that their suffering was
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not inflicted by the divine hand, but more likely by their own parents.
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Although several days had passed since the incident, the bruises and wounds covering his
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body were evident. The girl bore with her the physical marks of brutal punishment
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in a place where medical care was limited and resources were scarce. The child
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' s wounds could only be treated with rudimentary home remedies. Medicine in that
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town was limited to knowledge transmitted from generation to generation, without bottles of medicine
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or needle concept. Children did not know hospitals and the word vaccine was foreign
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to our vocabulary. The girl, despite the severity of her injuries, returned
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to school, but her presence was a palpable reminder of the rawness and lack
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of compassion there. However, her situation did not improve, as the infections
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in her wounds forced her to leave again this time to heal in the isolation
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of her home. The scars left on his face visible to all were silent
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witnesses of the brutality he suffered For me, that event marked the awakening of
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a sense of injustice that infiltrated my conscience. Until then, though, he
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had never questioned God’ s word. The cruelty inflicted on the girl aroused
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in me a sense of disbelief at such a disproportionate punishment for simply asking a
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valid question, although fear prevented me from openly expressing my disagreement. At that
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time, this situation sowed the seed of doubt in my childish mind. Over
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time, this experience became the tip of the question, revealing a series of
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atrocities that were part of life in that isolated village. As the evidence of
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brutality and restrictions grew, they became increasingly difficult to ignore. The mask of
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harmony that the Community was trying to project was crumbling, revealing the twisted reality
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that marked my childhood and adolescence. In that moment of my life, uncertainty
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and impotence took over me. My sisters Ana and Anais were the center of
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my constant concern, since one morning I heard that my parents were closing a
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sort of deal, which basically consisted of that, in exchange for some cows
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and a piece of land, my sisters would be married to the only two
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other twins in the village. This messed my stomach up for two things.
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First, the way they were treated as merchandise and, secondly, because at
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that time they were eight years old and those men were eighteen. The idea
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of them marrying much older men filled me with anguish. I' d already
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heard women marrying older men. That wasn' t weird in town, but
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I always thought they both fell in love or something. As I watched those
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suitors, my instinct cried out that something was deeply wrong. His strange gestures,
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disturbing glances and suspicious behaviors were like alarm signals resounding inside me. I
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could not accept the idea that my sisters were linked to men who were clearly
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not good people. My attempts to express my concerns to my family were met
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with a wall of resistance. My older brother, instead of understanding my anguish,
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urged me not to meddle in matters that, according to him, were
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beyond my comprehension. I quoted Bible verses as justification, but my heart refused
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to accept that such practices were supported. As the twins grew. My fear
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increased. The agreed age for these forced marriages was approaching inexorably, since,
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from what I had heard, it would be at the age of thirteen.
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Back then, I felt trapped in a web of oppressive traditions. My despair
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drove me to seek solutions, but the rigid structures of society seemed unshakable.
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Every encounter with those men increased my aversion to them. I wanted to protect
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my sisters, but the rigidity of beliefs and customs stifled any attempt at change.
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My heart longed for divine intervention to alter the course of events, but
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faith was mixed with doubt in my soul. As the fourteen years settled in
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my life in the Community, I sensed a change in the way they treated
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me. The insistence that I should behave like a man resonated in every corner.
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In spite of my internal reluctance, I tried to follow the tide,
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believing that adulthood would manifest itself if it acted in accordance with the expectations of
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the Community. However, my attempt to fit into the mold of what they
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considered an adult man turned out to be more complicated than I imagined. The
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pressure from the Community encouraged me to take on responsibilities and roles that I did
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not feel prepared for. In order to assume or attempt to appear mature,
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it faded away in the face of the magnitude of the expectations placed upon me.
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It was in that crucial period of my life that I began to realize
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that beneath the pure surface of the Community lay a rot that could hardly hide
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my frictions with the reality outside the people intensified, revealing an unknown world that
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had remained hidden from me for so long. The awareness that the Father of
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the Community and some ecclesiastical leaders were aware of this duality only increased my intrigue.
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This I knew since my good reputation in the village led me to be
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selected, along with two other companions, to be part of the Church Committee.
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The idea of contributing to the well- being of the Community moved me
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at first. However, that emotion soon faded away when we entered an office
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that few had access to. That' s when I discovered the existence of
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a battery- powered radio, an artifact that appeared to me as a futuristic
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wonder. However, the revelations were not limited to this device. As we
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explored the office, I ran into secrets that went beyond my comprehension. The
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restrictions and warnings about keeping quiet what we witnessed aroused my curiosity and mistrust.
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The prohibition of disclosing that any detail about those mysterious artifacts was sealed with the
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threat of eternal condemnation to my soul Instead of intimidating me, these revelations aroused
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my desire to understand the motive behind hiding technology and knowledge out of reach of
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the rest of the people. The intriguing combination of fear and curiosity led me
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to question the authority of the Church and the leaders of the Community. As
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the months progressed my effort to gain the confidence of the Father and the members
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of the Church Committee, My efforts were intensified not only in discovering the mystery
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behind the restrictions imposed on the Community, but also in unraveling the hidden truths
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that were woven among ecclesiastical leaders. As I gained the confidence of these authority
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figures, I discovered a dark underworld that was hidden beneath the facade of piety
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and morality. The rebellion over the atrocities committed by the members of the Church
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Committee resounded as a disturbing echo. In my ears atrocious crimes, especially abuses
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against women and children seemed to be the norm rather than the exception. The
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feeling of impotence in the face of the lack of justice and the inability to
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denounce these abominable actions took hold of me. Despite the opportunities presented to me
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for personal gain within this corrupt system, My conscience rebelled against the idea of
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taking advantage of my neighbors and the situation in which they were in. My
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lack of education and my conditioning to blindly obey made it difficult to draw up
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any plan to change things. However, a turning point in my perception occurred
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when I heard the Father of the Church. Talking to my parents, the
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proposal I presented to them turned out to be the drop that filled the glass
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of my tolerance. The father suggested that my sisters, still ten- year
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- old girls by that time, should at that time marry the men of
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the Community, whom they had already committed to years ago. At that time,
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according to my research, I knew perfectly well that they were despicable individuals,
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since at some point I had heard that the father had mentioned that the
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confessions of those men were seriously disturbing and that they often did not seem so
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repentant. He never said anything so specific about the so- called confessional secret.
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However, what he did know was that, as his family was the
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richest in the village, the father always provided them with excommunication. Despite warnings
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about not spreading the dark secrets of the people, I felt the urgency of
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acting in defense of my sisters. My family, blinded by faith and confidence
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in the leadership of crinslesiastico, accepted the proposal without questioning it. Outrage took
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hold of me seeing distorted beliefs and personal interests intertwine to harm the most innocent.
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When I heard of the terrible truth, a chill ran through my spine,
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so I felt the world crumbled around me. The revelation of the dark
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reality that enveloped my little town terrified me in an unimaginable way. I could
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not allow my sisters to be victims of such atrocity. So, despite my
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fifteen years of service, I decided that it was time to act in the
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dark of the night, without revealing my plans to anyone I woke up my
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two sisters I implored them to pack all the essentials in bags, warning them
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urgently to keep a total silence. Fear and adrenaline took over me clouding my
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thoughts. As we began our clandestine flight, with some contacts and a vague
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knowledge of the direction to follow, we began our escape in the darkness of
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the dawn, the fear of being discovered added unbearable pressure to every step we
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took. Although I considered taking my older brothers with us the feeling that they
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already belonged to that place, I was convinced that their participation would only betray
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us. We walked for hours, guided by uncertainty and despair. The sun
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began to appear on the horizon, when exhausted and hungry, we were forced
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to hide from a sound at that moment totally unknown to us. It was
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a van in the dark. I watched with horror as the Father and three
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men of the Church Committee walked through the area looking tirelessly for us. We
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remained hidden until the afternoon covered us again and then, cautiously, we resumed
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our escape. Finally we arrived at a road, an unknown road built with
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a material that intrigued us, we decided to follow it and as we advanced.
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The noises of the cars became familiar, losing the fear that once seized
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us. Providence smiled at us when a woman stopped in her car as we
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met near the road. With a generous heart, he offered to help us.
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Upon learning about our situation, I hastily explained to her our plan and
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she took us to the city to file a complaint with the police. However,
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I could not provide the exact location, as despair had led us to
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walk aimlessly. Until today I have no idea how to get back to that
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place. And although history lacks paranormal dyes, the evil inherent in people ace
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terrifying this experience, although it cannot be erased from my memory, taught me
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that sometimes the true horror just humane. Anonymous account