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Profane La Tumba De Una Bruja Historias De Terror - Voces De La Noche · Niebla en el bosque con Evelith von

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My name is diego and my life took an unexpected turn because of the family
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problems my parents faced. Excited by the difficulties, they made the difficult decision
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to send me to live with my aunt. Lucia, an intriguing and mysterious
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woman who engaged in clean spiritual practices in the small town where she resided.
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At first I resisted with all my might to leave my home, not to
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mention that the last place I wanted to go was a town where there was
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barely electricity and, even worse, with an aunt I hardly knew. However,
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my parents gave me no choice. The season in which all this happened
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was during the Day of the Dead, a very deep- rooted and important
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holiday in the village of My aunt was a time when the streets were filled
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with flowers of cempasuchi and aromas of traditional foods However, it was also wrapped
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in a special atmosphere where the veil between the world of the living and the
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world of the dead seemed to fade away. In the middle of all the
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hustle and bustle and preparations for the holiday. I heard about a challenge hanging
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out among the local boys. The rumor spread like fire and came to my
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ears. They were talking about an ancient and gloomy cemetery known as the Witch
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Cemetery. His name came from Alma Gutierrez, a woman who had been accused
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of witchcraft centuries ago. His spirit was said to still dwell in that place
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and many claimed to have witnessed unexplained phenomena near his tomb. The story of
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Alma Gutierrez aroused my curiosity and aroused my desire to fit into this new environment
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to earn the respect of the other children of the village. I decided to
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accept the challenge of going into the cemetery of La Bruja in the middle of
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dead day night. The challenge was to enter after the closure of the cemetery
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and take one of the offerings they left in Alma Gutierrez' s tomb as
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proof of having reached there. Although fear took hold of my being, I
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could not allow that to stop me. I repeated over and over again that
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I had to face my fears and demonstrate my courage. I prepared mentally for
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what was to come, gathering every bit of courage I had inside me.
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Convinced of my decision, I eagerly waited for the night of dead day to
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come. When the time finally came, the darkness enveloped every corner of the
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village. The candlelights and lanterns lit up the altars and roads to the cemeteries.
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The atmosphere was loaded with a special aura, full of mystery and solemnity
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with the heart. I fast- tracked, headed towards the cemetery of La
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Bruja. The story of Alma Gutierrez was popular in that town, especially because
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some people approached his tomb to leave offerings and ask for favors. In return,
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the challenge was simple. It consisted of entering the cemetery after its closure
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and taking one of the many offerings left in the tomb as proof of having
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reached there. Although fear invaded me, I did not want to lose the
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reputation that had cost me so much to gain. In spite of everything,
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I accepted the challenge. I got him to wait for the pantheon' s
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wakeman to make his first round of check- up before going into that scary
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place. Once inside I walked through what seemed like an eternity, as the
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Witch' s tomb was in the depths of the cemetery. The darkness became
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more and more chilling and as I approached, I heard strange noises. I
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even swore I felt someone' s breath right behind me. I finally got
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to Alma Gutierrez' s grave. On your own. I would never have
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dared even get close to that place. Despite having lived for a very short
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time in the village. The witches were my greatest fear, so I was
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pleasantly surprised to discover that the tomb was in an impeccable state. It was
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full of candles, offerings and ornaments. I was amazed at the macabre beauty
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of that place and could only get out of my self- absorbing when I
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heard the scream of the watchman, which put me on alert. I decided
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to act fast and take something from the grave as proof of my courage.
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My trembling hands approached a small ceramic statuette representing a crow, one of the
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symbols associated with Alma Gutierrez. I took it cautiously, feeling a strange sense
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of electricity, precuring my skin as I come into contact with that object without
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wasting time. I kept the statuette in my backpack and set out to escape
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from the cemetery. However, as I walked away from Alma Gutierrez' s
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tomb, strange noises intensified. A cold, stabbing wind began to blow,
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passing through my clothes and nailing itself to the bones. I looked around and
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witnessed a terrifying scene. Several people' s spectra emerged from the graves around
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me. His translucent and disfigured figures slipped through the air, emanating a supernatural
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darkness. The anguished laments and whispers filled the atmosphere, enfolding me in an
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atmosphere of indescribable horror. I felt trapped in a world between reality and nightmare.
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Panic took over me, but my survival instinct went off. I ran
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through the rows of graves, tripping in the dark and listening to the echo
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of my own steps, mixing with the groans of the spectra. The intense
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cold seemed to increase with every step, as if those thirsting spirits of vengeance
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wanted to drag me into eternity with them. I finally managed to find the
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way out of the cemetery. I ran out to the security of the street,
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with my heart beating wildly and my breath cut short. I looked back
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one last time and saw the spectra receding unable to leave the boundary of the
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cemetery. I breathed relief, knowing I had escaped from that cursed place.
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The next day I showed up with the local boys with that statuette bragging about
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my bravery and since I wasn' t afraid of anything or anyone, I
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thought I had gotten away with it. However, it was not long before
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strange things began to happen to my soul. Around, my health began to
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deteriorate rapidly. My body showed disturbing signs of the consequences of my daring.
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Dark haematomas began to appear on my skin as if they were traces left by
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invisible hands. These bruises multiplied rapidly, spreading all over my body and causing
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me intense and constant pain. In addition to bruises, stabbing pains swept through
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my bones as if they were being pierced by invisible needles. Each movement was
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an agony and I was constantly bent by pain. My joints became stiff and
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swollen, making even the simplest tasks difficult. The cold that I had felt
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in the cemetery had now become a perpetual sensation that seemed to emanate from the
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depths of my being No matter how many layers of clothes I wore the on
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how much heat it surrounded me. I always felt a icy presence that wrapped
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me and left me trembling. In addition to physical problems, I also experienced
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recurring nightmares and disturbing visions in my dreams. The spectra from Alma Gutierrez'
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s grave appeared before me. Their deformed, angry faces whispered incomprehensible words to
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me and prompted me to join them in their eternal torment. My appearance was
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emaciated and the look of terror was constant in my eyes. I became a
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shadow of what I once was. The curse was manifested in different ways objects
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that moved alone, incomprehensible whispers that filled my head and shadows that seemed to
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haunt me in every corner. The presence of Alma Gutierrez seemed to haunt me
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wherever I went. My nights became a hell filled with vivid and terrifying nightmares,
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in which the figure of the Witch stood upon me laughing with malice while
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uttering incomprehensible words. My life became a constant torment. Every day was a
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battle against the fear and terror that surrounded me. I became a prisoner locked
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up in my own house, fearing any interaction with the outside world. Even
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in my shelter, I could feel his presence, stalking me from the shadows
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and reminding me that I would never be safe My aunt desperate to help me,
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intensified her rituals and clean, burned sacred herbs and performed invocations in a
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desperate attempt to free my soul from the evil influence that afflicted me. However,
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his efforts seemed in vain. The negative energy continued to cling to the
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house, persisting in its purpose of destroying me. The putrid aroma that invaded
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the sound place became even more nauseating. It was as if the spirits trapped
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in limbo manifested themselves through the suffocating stench pervading every corner. It didn'
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t matter how many times we cleaned the house. The smell of rot always
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came back wrapped in his fetid mantle, but that wasn' t the worst.
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Every morning she woke up with her clothes soaked in a black, viscose
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substance. That substance seemed to emanate from the very walls of the house as
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if a dark force leaked from within and adhered to everything it touched. I
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was trying to wash my clothes over and over again, but it was useless.
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The black stain resisted disappearing as if it were steeped in the depths of
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the fibers. My appearance became more and more emaciated and sick. The darkness
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that emerged from the walls seemed to have infiltrated my being consuming my vitality and
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filling me with anguish my impotent aunt in the face of the situation sought help
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anywhere she could find. One night, while I was in an uneasy sleep,
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I was suddenly awakened by a sense of oppression in the environment. My
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eyes opened slowly and what I saw in front of me frozen my blood standing
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there. Next to my bed was the grotesque figure of Alma Gutiérrez the Witch,
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who lived in the cemetery of the Witch. His appearance was terrifying,
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his skin wrinkled and worn out. He hung on his face revealing an evil
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and ruthless look. He watched me with penetrating eyes mocking at my misfortune his
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laughter resounded in the room, resounding in my ears like a macabre echo.
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I tried to scream, but the words got stuck in my throat. I
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was paralyzed by fear, unable to move or escape from that evil presence.
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Alma Gutierrez slowly approached his figure, fading and materializing with every step that gave
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his sinister laughter. It intensified, filling the room with its dark power.
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Finally, the witch disappeared in the dark. Leaving me trembling and sweating cold
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in my bed, I dared touch my back and my hand encountered a series
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of ugly ones. Scratches that spread along my skin were palpable evidence of the
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terrifying encounter that I had just experienced at Dawn. I decided to get help.
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Desperately, my aunt, worried about my deteriorating state, sought answers in
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every possible corner. He consulted healers shamans and experts in the paranormal, but
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none seemed to have a solution to my situation. The past few days and
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my health was getting worse quickly. The wounds on my back became infected and
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the black and viscous substance that had emerged from the walls began to cover my
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entire body. My aunt continued her rituals and clean, but nothing seemed to
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stop the curse that had fallen upon me. My appearance became more and more
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emaciated and sick. The darkness emerging from the walls seemed to have infiltrated my
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being consuming my vitality and filling me with anguish. My aunt, powerless in
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the face of the situation, sought help anywhere the inhabitants of the village could
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find. Upon learning of my misfortune they began to prevent me from fearing that
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the curse would spread to them. I was left alone by everyone except my
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aunt, who held on to the hope of finding a solution. The days
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passed and the situation in the ras worsened the black and viscous substance that once
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emerged from the walls. Now it also flowed from my mouth in the form
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of vomit. Every time it happened, I felt like my strength was running
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out even more, leaving me in a state of physical and mental weakness.
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Not only did my body suffer the consequences, but also my mind. There
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began to appear mental gaps at times when I lost control of my actions and
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plunged into some sort of trance. My aunt was terrified by these demonstrations and
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feared for her own safety and that of those around me. To avoid any
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dangerous situation, my aunt made the difficult decision to tie me to bed for
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safety. It was a drastic measure, but she believed it was the only
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way to protect me and others from possible harm that I could do in my
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moments of uncontrolled violence. So I was confined in my own room, with
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my body weakened and my movements restricted. My aunt stood by me day and
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night trying to find a solution. He desperately investigated further the dark secrets of
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the Witch and consulted with occult experts, desperately seeking some clue that could free
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me from this curse. The days became an amalgam of physical pain, mental
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confusion and hopelessness. Despite my aunt' s efforts, none of the solutions
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tried so far had worked. The curse seemed to be more powerful than we
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imagined, clinging to me with unrelenting ferocity. In the midst of this darkness,
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my aunt stood firm and never gave up the hope of finding a solution.
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Although I could not express it, I was grateful to her for her
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unconditional love and her tireless struggle to free me from that desperate nightmare for finding
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a solution that seemed to dodge it. My aunt heard rumors about a mysterious
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shaman living in the innermost part of the mountain. This shaman was said to
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have a deep knowledge of the dark forces and possessed supernatural abilities that could defy
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any curse moved by renewed hope. My aunt decided to take a dangerous journey
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with me into the depths of the mountain in search of this shaman. Although
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I was already very weak, we knew it was a journey we had to
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make together. We go through dense forests, raffle large rivers and challenge all
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the natural obstacles and warnings of those who feared for our safety. Finally,
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after days of exhausting journey, we managed to reach the shaman' s shelter.
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The abode was hidden between trees in your prayers and emanated a mystical energy
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that made it clear that that man was in tune with the supernatural. My
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aunt humbly presented herself to the shaman and told him of the terrible curse that
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afflicted me, explaining to him the physical and mental devastation that consumed me.
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The penetrating gaze of the shaman seemed to penetrate his soul by assessing the gravity
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of the situation. After listening attentively to my aunt’ s story, the
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shamana felt sad and sighed deeply. His eyes reflected the understanding of ancestral knowledge
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and the connection with the spiritual world. The lack of respect for the spirit
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of that Witch has unleashed a powerful and twisted curse, the shaman said in
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a serene but firm tone. I can' t undo what has been done,
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but I can try to provide you with protection and relief. The shaman
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rose from his seat and began to collect herbs and objects are sacred from his
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sanctuary. Then, with skilled hands he created a series of amulets and talismans
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imbued with protective energies and blessings. The first amulet was a transparent crystal necklace,
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carved with delicate sacred symbols. It represented clarity and purity and its purpose
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was to dissipate the darkness that surrounded me every time I carried it, as
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it felt as the revitalizing energy flowed through me. The second mulet was a
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hand- carved wooden beads bracelet. The accounts represented strength and connection with nature.
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The bracelet reminded me that it was rooted in the earth and had the
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power to overcome any obstacle. When I touched the beads I could feel the
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comforting warmth and protective energy that enveloped me. The third amulet was a small
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glass jar filled with arrons herbs. This bottle contained a carefully selected mixture of
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sacred plants that, when opened, released an intoxicating and purifying aroma. Inhaling
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deeply its fragrance, I felt rejuvenated and protected from negative energies. Finally,
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the shaman gave me a small package wrapped in silk cloth. Inside the package
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I found a talisman engraved with ancient symbols. He was a protection talisman designed
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to ward off any bad negative influence that might approach me. He carried it
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with me in my pocket, feeling safe and protected by his power. After
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receiving the amulets, my aunt and I returned to the village where I remained
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a few more months before my parents decided it was time to return to the
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city where they lived. Although protected by the amulets, I felt the neura
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need to continue learning and seeking a definitive solution to the curse that affected me.
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Therefore, I visited my aunt more often, wishing to absorb all the
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knowledge and wisdom she had acquired. My aunt became my guide and mentor,
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sharing with me the stories and teachings I had learned from the shaman. Together
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we looked into ancient books, consulted experts, and explored any clues that might
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lead us to the way of breaking the curse. Although we did not find
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an immediate solution, every encounter with my aunt and every learning I acquired brought
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me a little closer to the possibility of undoing the curse. It didn'
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t matter how long it took. I was determined to free myself from this
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dark destiny that I myself had sought for not respecting the dead. Today I
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still have some nightmares about it, but I am convinced that the day will
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come when I can fully recover my life. Anonymous account