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NO Se Como Alejarlo De Mi: El Demonio Que Acecha Mi Vida - Historias De Terror - Voces De La Noche · Niebla en el bosque con Evelith von

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Before I begin with this story, I want to make it clear that,
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first of all, I will not use names and I will mix many points
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of occasion to keep my father' s identity and mine safe. And secondly,
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I don' t blame my father. That' s why I'
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ve always considered him a great man, who didn' t have the best
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of luck. So he had to do some things that most people would consider
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questionable, but still, he will always be, before my eyes, the
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best father in the world. Well, I think I' m getting a
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little ahead of myself. I' ll start by giving a little context.
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At first I lived with my mom and dad. However, the situation in
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which we lived was serious, very bad. On good days we could eat
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twice a day and it' s not like it' s too much and
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good, one day Mom just left. I don' t know where,
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he just left a house saying he couldn' t take that miserable life anymore.
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Partly I don' t blame her, but it' s not like
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Dad and I like that life. But, well, from that point on,
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we just went. He and I didn' t take long to get
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out of the neighborhood we lived in, and after that we wandered from here
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to there. Usually, Dad could only pay a month or two before we
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had to leave until we eventually ended up on the street and on the luckiest
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days, Dad could afford a night at some cheap motel. However, in
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the worst, which turned out to be almost every day, we had to
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sleep in some alley or park bench, terrifying stories with real people living on
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the street. I have a lot after we did this for a long time,
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whenever I said I was afraid of the dark, Dad reminded me that
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the living were more dangerous and I guess, despite what I lived is true.
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I remember one night, while trying to ignore the cold that I was
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about the arrival of winter, a rat crawled into my t- shirt,
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also trying to ward off the cold. I remember well that it was more
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of a reflection. Today I wouldn' t dare do something like that,
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but then, as a child whose age I didn' t reach two figures,
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I put my hand in my shirt to pull it out. And a
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lot of you can imagine how a sewer rat reacted. In that situation he
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bit me not only in almost the whole hand, but also in the chest
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and scratched my shirt before finally running away. I ended up in the ER
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that night with some stitches in my hand and several rabies shots. Dad felt
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very guilty even when I tried to tell him that it didn' t hurt
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so much and that the doctors had said it would be okay. I remember
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when I finally got high Dad and I left, I was really excited because
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he told me that I would never, ever sleep on the streets again.
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Again we walked for a long time before we got to a big house.
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Dad helped me climb a fence and then he did it. It was a
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huge, albeit careless, house. He had a pool full of lama and
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rotten tree leaves, so I knew it later belonged to someone who worked in
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the United States and sent money to build his house. That was a serious
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thing. Well, I think we live there about half a year. I
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didn' t understand why one day people who I considered my home started arriving,
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but I know Dad picked up everything he could and we both got out
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of there to never come back again. After I cried and begged for us
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to go back to our house, he explained to me that we couldn'
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t go back, but he did it in a fun way, trying to
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make me think it was really fun to look for a house and if someone
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else was occupying that one, then we would look for another. And so
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we would know new places always and that way we live a long time.
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We perfect our technique over the years. No one could know that someone was
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occupying a house. I even got to start school and it didn' t
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take long to catch up and be in my proper grade. No one knew
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the peculiar lifestyle that my father and I had, but other than that,
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I was having a perfectly normal life with friends and one that another couple once
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were sleeping. When the owners of the house arrived, I was about fourteen
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years old and remember that we took things and escaped where we had already planned.
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In case that happened. Honestly, I got a little sad that was
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the first house I felt very comfortable in. It was furnished and I had
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my own room with a royal bed, but a part of me had always
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known that it was only a matter of time to lose it. It was
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r rs of ten o' clock at that time and we had almost finished
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all the houses in the area. In fact, we had planned to go
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and search nearby for new places where we could go in case something like that
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happened. Only we' d been doing it for so long that we'
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d become a little confident and we thought we still had a little more time
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before that happened. We stopped for a moment at a self- service store
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to have some coffee and eat something we thought we' d do. I
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had classes the next day and needed to sleep after a while. We thought
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we' d been there a long time, so we decided to go somewhere
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else. We were walking about an hour and a half. I told Dad
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it was okay if we slept on a bench that night, in the park
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or something, that it didn' t matter, but he totally refused.
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He told me that he had sworn to me that he would never sleep on
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the street again and he would not break that promise that night. Then we
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keep moving forward until we saw her. It was not at all appropriate to
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our standards. He had some broken windows, some graffiti outside, and the
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façade in general. If it looked careless, however, we didn' t
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have many options, so we went in. Honestly, at least I didn
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' t plan on staying there more than one night. We' d have
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to find a better place in the morning, or at least I thought so.
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Until we got in, the place was clear, it was extremely dusty
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and the place looked very old and smelled like a lockdown, but it didn
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' t look like anyone had stepped on that house. In years, we
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began to tour the site to verify that there was no one in the place
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but us and the more we saw it the more perfect. It seemed like
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my dad told me that one day he had gotten a temporary job as a
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waiter, he had heard someone talk about that house. Apparently, she'
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d been abandoned since her owner died. What they said was that in life
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he had behaved so badly with his children that when he died none went to
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his funeral and much less to claim anything for what he had been abandoned since
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then, although Dad had never considered it, for as I said before,
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we had some standards and my dad thought that if he had been abandoned so
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long, he should be in a totally uninhabitable state and in a certain way
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if he was, for the dust that had accumulated over the years towards which
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we sneezed at every moment, or we had to cover our noses with a
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wet cloth to try to breathe better, even if out of that he was
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quite decent. We both came up with the idea of trying to clean up
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all the dust in the place and maybe we could stay there for a long
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time or a little longer. Luckily, maybe forever there were several rooms,
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so at some point I separated from my dad because I wanted to see which
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room I liked best. To start cleaning it I opened one of the doors,
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which was heard how it broke when I pushed it. I probably had
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some kind of insurance that over the years it had rotted or deteriorated in some
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way, because I don' t remember pushing so hard. I remember I
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lit up the room with my flashlight It was almost empty There were only two
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things. A king blue trunk with worn paint. This one was just under
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the window. The second thing there was a sort of wardrobe but it was
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extremely big, maybe the biggest wardrobe I' ve ever seen in my entire
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life. He looked very old and with certain dyes from the time of the
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porphyriate. The first thing I did was open the trunk. I didn'
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t have a lock or combination, so it wasn' t hard for me
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to open it. I pictured the inside rior were many toys, most of
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them even in their packaging or even wrapped in time- weary gift paper.
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It made me a little sad. I imagined for a moment that old man
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buying every year birthday or Christmas gifts for his grandchildren and that he was never
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invited to such festivities. Although after thinking about it a little bit more carefully,
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I told myself that a father is not abandoned just because maybe he had
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done something too unforgivable. I got up and opened the window in the hope
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of starting to ventilate the room. And after that I set out to see
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what was in the closet, because I told myself that we could sell anything
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of value that was in the house, because the owners didn' t want
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them I approached the wardrobe and that' s when I realized that it had
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been covered with some boards carefully, I started to remove the boards one by
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one. Being in a state of advanced deterioration, they did not offer much
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resistance. Finally, the last board gave way when a small crack was barely
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opened I could feel a horrible cold. Literally it was as if I had
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opened the door of a freezer, but at the moment, the truth,
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it all happened so fast that I just opened the closet door I covered my
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mouth to avoid screaming from the impression. From what I saw in there hanging
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on a rope, there was a man hanged. His eyes are bumpy,
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his tongue black and swollen and his face purple and disfigured. They were staring
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at me with a chill. He walked my back in my head. There
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was just the idea of running out of there, but my body just didn
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' t answer me. And in case that wasn' t creepy enough.
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What I saw next is an image that to this day had stormed in my
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nightmares. That man' s head moved. It was just a little bit
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I swear I remember the bones gnashing and then those glimmering eyes from the lack
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of oxygen turned me to see and almost at the same time I felt a
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bony hand touching my shoulder at that time I could move around, but there
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was no one fast. I looked back at the closet, but the hanger
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was gone. A sense of restlessness invaded me as I watched that now empty
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place, feeling that someone else was present, although I could not see anyone
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else. I started lighting my flashlight to different parts of the room, but
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I couldn' t see anyone. Suddenly, from the glassless frame of the
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window, I began to notice drops falling slowly as if they were blood behind
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me. A dry laugh scratched and something evil resonated in that room. My
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heart accelerated so fast that I thought I was having an attack or something like
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that. I turned quickly, but there was no one. I couldn'
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t resist it anymore and started screaming calling my dad. I can' t
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describe exactly what came next, but I' ll try to do my best.
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That' s when I screamed for the fifth time something didn' t
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let me shut my mouth again and it was like a smoke came into my
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mouth. I can' t explain it any other way. I scratched my
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awful throat and couldn' t move, but this time it wasn' t
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like my body wouldn' t obey me. It was more like something kept
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me standing there and still. I remember when my dad finally got to where
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I was, all this had already happened. I was on my knees on
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the wooden floor, because that experience made me feel pain in each and every
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one of my bones, besides that my throat hurt so much that I was
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coughing without being able to stop in it I was even spitting blood. My
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dad didn' t even ask me what happened to me. It was only
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enough for him to see the state I was in to take me almost carrying
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me out of that house. We ended the night sleeping on a bench in
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the park and I was so traumatized that I wasn' t able to tell
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him exactly what had happened to me. A cop found us the next day.
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I have always believed that we were somewhat sorry to see a father with
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his son carrying his meagre belongings, for he gave my father a chance.
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He told her that his brother- in- law needed a shawl for his
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mason' s work and we could stay in a small room of sheets he
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had. Dad took it. Today, days later, I started a part
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- time job in a stained glass shop. My dad didn' t like
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the idea. He told me that my priority should be to study to have
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the opportunity to have a better life than we had had. But I told
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him that I was tired of not being able to live in one place and
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that I wanted to start helping him to improve our condition. At that moment.
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I would like to say that this was the end of the story,
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but it was only the beginning of my own personal nightmare, from which I
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believe I will never be able to free myself. Although between the two of
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us we quickly began to improve our economic situation and we could even rent a
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house, I began to wake up with bruises or scratches and very often my
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nose was bleeding. Obviously, we didn' t think it was paranormal.
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My symptoms clearly dictated a very dangerous disease, so we had to go to
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the doctor. They were very difficult weeks for my father, who already expected
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the worst, but for his relief. According to the studies, I was
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too healthy. There was no reason, at least a doctor, for me
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to be like this, so they went to the next option and or or
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or this ba or urs injuring me, so my dad was advised to take
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me to a psychologist and even though my father did what the doctors told them,
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I always told him that I had never intended to hurt me and I
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also swore to them that I had no idea how all those bruises caused me.
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When we were a little more settled, strange things started to happen anywhere
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I was going in my house. While Dad and I were having breakfast at
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the cabinet door, at the window, at the kitchen, they were whipping
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or the glasses and plates were falling off the table. On one occasion,
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my group of friends organized a villamada so that we could all play with the
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new console they had bought from one of them. The whole afternoon seemed to
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pass normally, but everything changed when it was bedtime. From my record,
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sleeping anywhere was too easy for me, so I fell asleep before most.
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But sometime in the morning I woke up because all my friends were screaming and
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trying to wake me up. I opened my eyes just to realize that I
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was standing in front of everyone and with my right hand I was pointing towards
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the entrance. I asked them what had happened and they told me that out
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of nowhere I got up and walked by stepping on almost all the boys and
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waking them up in the process. Everyone thought I was joking, but they
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told me that suddenly I started saying a lot of words very quickly and quietly,
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so they didn' t know what I was saying exactly and that,
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besides that, it wasn' t my voice. It was more of a
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raspberry voice and it looked more like an old man' s. And when
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one of them tried to get my attention, that' s when I pointed
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to the door and they say that at that moment a hanged man fell from
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the ceiling and that I started laughing with that scratchy voice. On another occasion,
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while I was at work, my boss asked me to stay a little
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longer because I had a lot of work and because they were vacations, I
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agreed. It was almost midnight when we both started hearing some strange noises inside
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the place, some tools fell off the shelves and the focus of the place
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began to tingle as if it was about to melt, but it did not
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pass. But the worst was when each glass clearly reflected that hanged man I
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had seen in the abandoned house. My boss got so scared that he ran
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out of the place and after calming down a bit in his car, he
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told me that maybe we were both too tired and that it was best to
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close that he would take me home and the next day we would continue with
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the work. I didn' t tell him I thought that thing was following
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me out of fear of being fired. I only followed the current and let
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him take me home without saying anything to him I stopped paying great attention to
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him for a moment, because I didn' t know what else to do
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besides bruises. I didn' t seem to get sick beyond that, and
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in a way, it wasn' t like I hurt anyone either. And
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I remember one time I was walking home. It was almost eight o'
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clock, but it was already relatively dark because of the schedule and I remember
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when I entered my neighborhood, I heard a very aggressive dog running towards me.
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That was nothing paranormal. I knew I had neighbors who had a Dalmatian
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dog who was extremely aggressive with anyone who didn' t own it. He
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had already attacked several neighbors and had even seriously injured a child, who ended
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up in the hospital. But no one had done anything, because they had
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contacts with the anti- rabies and the delegation, so at that time he
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knew that he was in serious trouble. I turned where I was coming and
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quickly tried to run in the opposite direction. My plan was to ask a
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neighbor for help, but in the attempt I stumbled upon my own feet and
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fell. I turned to where the dog, with much terror, was already
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very close and was willing to attack as a reflection. I remember stretching my
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hand like I wanted to stop it that way, but what happened next left
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me speechless. It was a scream one with that raspberry and old voice that
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I had heard before, it was very loud, even a car alarm went
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on. He didn' t say anything specific, he just screamed and when
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this happened, the dog skated trying to slow down his career. I'
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ll never forget that she peed in front of me before running away in a
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hurry crying and screaming very terrified. The neighbors, who had left because the
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car alarm had been activated, helped me get up and asked me what had
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happened. I told them, but they didn' t believe me. Even
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the neighbor who had a camera went to check, but since the video on
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his camera had no sound, it just looked like I fell and then as
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I put my hand to try to cover me and the dog ran away terrified,
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so no one knew what to say about it. That dog never came
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near me again. Whenever he saw me, he would shove his tail between
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his legs and walk in a hurry to try to hide. I could go
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on with the weird events that happen around me every time I stay in a
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place for even one night, but I think I' ve already extended too
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much, I' ve been made clean and even my dad has taken me
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with shamans who have tried to take this thing away from me, but nothing
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has worked, so it' s just something that I' ve learned to
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live with and I think I' m a little used to anonymous account