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El Ex Novio De Mi Madre Le Hizo Brujería Historias De Terror - Voces De La Noche · Niebla en el bosque con Evelith von

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Although this story did not happen to me directly, but to my mother,
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I was certainly very involved in it. You could say that I was born
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into an atheistic family Mom and Dad always said that deities, magic, ghosts
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or any kind of paranormal entity were nothing more than bullshit since childhood and I
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even remember that when we came to see some street magic show, a few
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days later, Dad would inform himself, buy what was necessary and teach us
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how to do it. I wouldn' t know if this thing about not
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believing in magic or gods affected me. I don' t think so.
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However, I must admit that when my father died, when I was only
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ten years old, I was disappointed and I would dare say terrified when an
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old woman told me that, like my father, I had denied God to
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last before his whole life. The moment he was talking to me, my
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dad was burning in the flames of hell for blasphemous. I remember crying more
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about the fact that I thought my dad was suffering in hell than about the
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fact that he was dead. Mom was the one who told me it wasn
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' t true. He told me that even if something like that existed,
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my dad would never set foot there because he was a good and fair man
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and that, according to that mythology, that place was for bad people who
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hurt others in life, and that reassured me a lot. Dad' s
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death was certainly a very hard blow to the whole family. I was the
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eldest of three daughters, my twin sisters, were too small back then,
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so the worst part of us took her. Mom and I, however,
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gradually found a way to get ahead on our own. I think it'
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s been about three or four years when Mom decided that she should give herself
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a chance to meet more people the truth. At first I didn' t
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like the idea very much, but after taking therapy, I accepted that it
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wasn' t fair to expect Mom to be left alone for the rest of
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her life, because it wasn' t what Dad would have wanted. My
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mom' s couples came and went. I think it never lasted for more
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than a few months, so we never got to know any of them at
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all. Or that was until he came into our lives. I don'
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t know if I should say his name. In part I' d like
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to in case someone knows him so he doesn' t relate to him,
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but on the other hand, he might be able to do something to me
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or my family better. I think I' ll leave it as I'
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ll see. M came into our lives when I was about to turn fifteen.
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Dad had opened a savings account since I was born for that party,
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so Mom told me I could have everything I wanted that day. I remember
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back then that I was completely in love with the Twilight movies and their books,
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so I told my mom that I wanted the party to have that theme
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and Mom had no objection, so she started with the party preparations, taking
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care of every detail so that it was exactly the way I imagined it.
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In that m worked on something related to the dessert table or maybe it was
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decoration. I honestly don' t remember, but if I know that you
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met at the party organization, I remember that by the day of the party,
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Mom invited me and him as a gift. He gave me very expensive
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bags and clothes, as well as the whole twilight book saga. He bought
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me everything my mom couldn' t buy me. I' m not gonna
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lie at the time. Those gifts made me very pleased, even though it
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was only the third time I saw him, and the party was definitely the
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best experience I had in my life. Since then, Mom began to frequent
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me even more. I think it' s been about two months when everything
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seemed perfect. You know, like almost any beginning of any healthy relationship.
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One afternoon, though, my mom came back from a date with him and
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looked a little sad and told me that it just hadn' t worked.
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I understood. If anything admired about her, she always told us we shouldn
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' t settle for less than we thought we deserved. I think that was
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my first experience seeing someone so intense. I would call almost all night,
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every day, and when my mom would turn off her phone and pick up
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the phone from the living room, she would call us on our phones and
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my sisters. Sometimes I got drunk in the middle of the night and knocked
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on the door for hours. My mom went out one night to tell her
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I had to stop at once, or I' d sue her so she
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wouldn' t come near us again. And even though he managed to get
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him to leave that night within a few days, he went back to the
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same thing. Mom, already quite sick of that situation, answered her phone
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one night just to tell her that the next day she would go with the
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lawyer to start the lawsuit. And this time it wasn' t a threat.
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Empty the next morning mom left the house early to go to the lawyer
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before going to work. The lawsuit did proceed and it seems to me that
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even he got the papers or something, because for some reason he got very
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angry a few days later telling him that he loved her and who knows what
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else. In that he bled his hand hitting the wall of the house m
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was very volatile. He behaved that way and later that night he came home
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with serenade to forgive him and obviously, my mom didn' t go out,
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so eventually it was over. This happened so quickly that I can'
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t explain it, so I' ll just say it. Mom forgave him.
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It was a day or two after the serenade that he dropped the charges
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and not only went back to him, but led him to live in our
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house, something he had never done with any of his partners, because he
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had told us that if that happened at any time, he would first talk
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to us and if any. He didn' t agree, he wouldn'
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t, but he took him out of nowhere and without asking, he told
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us that he hadn' t realized how much he loved him and that he
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couldn' t live another minute of his life without him. And since none
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of us knew what the hell or pyr on it, we just resigned.
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It only took a few days to completely hate him, as he did not
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want to move a single finger to keep the house clean. He never washed
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a dish or glass that occupied something that was a rule in the house,
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as well as running out of hot water and almost immediately he left his job,
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so he stayed all day lying on the couch watching TV and devouring our
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food. My mom didn' t seem to realize how horrible that man was,
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as long as any of us complained that he ran out of hot water
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or left no food for us. Mom only said that she varied everything about
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him and told us that we could order a pizza or something at home,
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if we were hungry, always stressing that all that was easy to fix,
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so it wasn' t a problem that we had to complain about and that
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we were exaggerating. The situation became even more unbearable over the months. The
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truth was he was rude to us and he acted like that was his house,
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if my sisters or I had guests. When they left, he told
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us that we were making a lot of noise and that we didn' t
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let it rest and that he didn' t want us to take anyone back
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and even got to the point of running to my friends one day when I
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had already asked my mom' s permission to invite them to watch a series.
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That day, when my mother arrived at the house, I told her
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that she could no longer live like this and that he should leave. But
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my mom told me that I didn' t know what it was like to
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really be in love and that when I knew what true love was, I
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' d let some minimal details go through. We ended up arguing a lot
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more that night, because I told him that, how could he tell me
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that knowing that Dad was a million times a better man than he could ever
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be. She replied that she loved me much more than anything or person and
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even more than she had loved my father. I remember I ended up telling
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my mother that if that was what I thought, then I would mark my
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grandfather so that my sisters and I would go live with him, and then
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she would stay alone, being happy with that horrible man. Right away,
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my mom changed her face. It was as if the fear of losing us
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pulled her out of that trance of falling in love that prevented her from seeing
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things as they were that night. My mom, though she didn' t
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run it out of the house. If I talked to him and told him
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that we would all have to find a way to get along better, and
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he also said that when she gave us permission to bring our friends, then
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he couldn' t tell them to leave and he should leave us the TV
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or the sa if we were doing some project. I think if I had
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to repeat everything again, maybe I would have saved myself the part I'
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m about to narrate. I don' t know. Perhaps I should have
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taken my sisters and left there, because a couple of days later I had
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stayed up until late, because I had to present a model that I had
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left for the last minute for nothing but my irresponsibility. I think it was
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around 3 a m when I heard someone scratching my door. It became very
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strange to me, because we had no dogs or cats that could do that
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and my sisters would knock on my door. I was thinking about that,
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when the scratches stopped, then someone touched I asked who it was, but
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only another knock was heard in response, I got a little closer to the
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door and asked again, but again they only knocked again. In that I
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said the name of my sisters and immediately the voice on the other side told
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me that yes, that I was one of my sisters and that I was
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very afraid. Without thinking about it. I opened the door twice. One
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of my sisters was there She told me she was listening to strange noises in
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the kitchen. That became strange to me, so much so that she was
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afraid as that she thought she heard strange noises. Well, as I said
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before, we were practically atheists, so we didn' t believe in ghosts
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or paranormal events either, but still looked pretty scared, so I decided to
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accompany her to see the origin of the noise. I didn' t really
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hear anything and we were going down the stairs in total darkness. In that
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my sister held me by the hand and if my memory remains true to me,
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I could swear that her hand was very cold. As we went down,
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I asked him what kind of noises he was hearing. So s and
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alone or she threw a burlesque laugh and squeezed my hand a little more by
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telling me you don' t listen, at the same time as I started
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humming a song I' d never heard before. Actually, that tonada made
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me shudder. I told him to let me go when we finished going down
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the steps, but he didn' t just keep moving forward at the same
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time as he buried his nails in the palm of my hand. Despair began
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to take hold of me, for something inside me told me that what was
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holding my hand, who knows why toward the kitchen was not my sister.
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I started trying to get Safarme to tell her to let go, but she
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wouldn' t stop messing around with that nasty tonada and threw a laugh.
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Sporadic as if I was amusing the fact that I thought I was able to
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free myself from his grip Now I was convinced that she was not my sister.
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She could not have so much strength and I screamed without success when,
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just before entering the kitchen, I tried to hold on to the wall of
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the door, when, without wanting to press the light switch and that thing
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disappeared instantly, as if it were a shadow that could only exist in the
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darkness. When I remember it today, the whole time that thing had been
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kept in the dark. I went back to my room, turning on all
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the lights in my path. I didn' t understand what had just happened
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to me, but I was sure I was terrified. Once in my room
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I checked my hand was bleeding where that thing had buried my nails. Of
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course I told my mom the next day, but she was also an atheist.
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I couldn' t believe that a changing body had become one of my
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sisters and then hurt me. He told me that most likely I had had
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a very lived dream and maybe I hurt myself with some of the things I
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had used to make my model, but I knew it was and what I
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had seen had been something very real and I confirmed it when, as I
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left the house with my model, m held me by the shoulder. He
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squeezed it very hard and whispered in my ear in an angry and threatening tone.
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If you ever get between your mother and me again, that' s
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not the worst thing that can happen to you. You got it, brat.
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Those words scared me so much that I only nodded before rushing out of
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the house. I didn' t really dare tell anyone. Until a long
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time later, things were only getting worse. From there, no one could
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understand how such a strong and independent woman, as my mother was, could
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be in such a toxic relationship. M treated her awfully. Not only did
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she yell at her and treat her badly in public, but she also started
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cheating on her. Sometimes I took my mom' s own money to invite
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them to lunch. I remember that on more than one occasion he came to
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take other women to the house. While my mom worked our life in the
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house. It was becoming unbearable almost all the money my mom made at her
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job now was almost everything to me and no matter how many people told her
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that she was cheating or that she had been seen getting women into the house.
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Mom always said they were just neighborhood gossip, because they couldn' t
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stand seeing someone being as in love and perfect a couple as they were and
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they were just jealous that they weren' t willing to reciprocate. Also,
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in the house it was beginning to become unbearable, I can' t explain
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it, but whenever someone entered it felt very sad or in some cases irritable.
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We always ended up fighting. And although on several occasions I was about
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to call my grandfather to get us out of there once and for all something
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inside of me told me that we couldn' t leave our mom there with
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him and that if I gave her a little more time, she would come
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around and leave him alone we just had to hang on a little longer.
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Two years after this, strange things began to happen. In the house.
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They knocked on the door and ran away before we opened it. They threw
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away all the glasses and plates. It was not strange to find the kitchen
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floor full of glass or broken seramic. However, we could never see who
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was behind it, for whenever we turned on the light, there was nothing.
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Mom said we left things in the wrong place and that' s why
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they fell and the doors. Well, it also said that it was us
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trying to play a joke on us A A A. A. A.
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A. R. A. S r. R. Which I thought my
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mom would realize sooner or later, that that man was disgusting and I'
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d have to quit at any moment. Instead, he was the one who
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ended up getting sick of her. He was trying to end the relationship,
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but my mom was crying and humbling to beg him not to leave his side,
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that she really loved him and that she couldn' t imagine a life
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where he wasn' t. And for some reason, he always ended up
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agreeing and staying in the house a little longer, although after a few more
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weeks he would try to finish with my mom again and the story would repeat
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itself. You can call me a bad daughter for this and maybe I deserve
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it, but I remember seeing my mom back then as the most mediocre and
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pathetic being in history. After that he sighed and pointed to a mesquite on
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the left side. She told Mom that she hated her and that the only
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reason she thought she had love for him was buried in that mezquite. Then
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at the point of screaming he ordered us down to go and see at that
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the four of us went down and almost immediately he ripped off without knowing exactly
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what to do. Mom walked to the mezquite and saw that the earth was
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somewhat loose, so it began to end. He didn' t have to
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do much to run into something. It was a photograph of her, but
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she had a lock of her hair tied with red slats and there were five
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pins pricking the photograph. None of the four knew what the hell to say
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about it, but from what my mom told us the moment she had it
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in her hands, she stopped feeling everything she felt for me a feeling of
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hatred and guilt for having left us out. He came along. After that
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we had to walk almost an hour in the sun to find a cool truck
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that would take us to our city and we never saw m Neighbors say it
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only came, took out a suitcase and left mom. She took a lot
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of therapy to regain her confidence in herself and little by little, that experience
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only remained as a rare story that none of the four can find her.
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A logical explanation story written and adapted by Lisa Hernández