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El DIABLO En Una JAULA - Historias De Terror - Voces De La Noche · Niebla en el bosque con Evelith von

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My name is Laura Garcia. I am currently eighty- five years old and
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when I was a girl as young as ten, I lived with my mother
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and my two younger sisters in a small remote town in Mexico, which I
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prefer not to say the name. My mother worked long hours to support us
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and, as expected, at that time, I was responsible not only for
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the house, but for my sisters. I remember that at that time,
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I really hated the responsibility on my childish shoulders, but I also felt resigned
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to my destiny, since, as I said before, there were not many
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options at that time. However, if there was something I couldn' t
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get used to, and this was the poverty we lived in, something inside
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of me would tell me that if my father was with us, we could
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have more money in the house. I guess in the deepest part of my
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mind I idealized my father, even though I never knew who he was or
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why he had abandoned us. My mother used to evade the subject and always
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told me that I and my sisters were only her daughters. But I didn
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' t like that answer and the people in the village didn' t help
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me accept such information. In the village people murmured about him. They said
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that my father had been a man of great wealth, who had caused trouble
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with his violent character and insatiable ambition. I remember one time, an old
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woman who occasionally helped clean her house, told me that it looked like him.
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That at first made me smile a little, as I thought you would
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tell me more about it. However, on that occasion he only slightly shook
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his head and said with a little condescending. I hope not in every respect.
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One day, while helping the old woman, I couldn' t hold
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back my curiosity and asked her if she knew where my father was today.
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I remember that your answer left me petrified for a few seconds, since you
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told me that he was dead. Although after the initial shock I asked her
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how my father had died with a gloomy look, she only told me that
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it was better to leave the past behind and that my mother had done the
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right thing by getting away from the problems my father had caused. But I
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didn' t settle for his answer and started searching for information about him in
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secret. Eventually I gathered fragments of my father' s story. I didn
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' t see him as a villain, despite the general opinion of the people.
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In fact, I came to the conclusion that all that bad fame my
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father had behind him was because on one occasion he had had problems with a
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guy who, after a fierce fight, he had beaten my father in such
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a way that he left him lying on the floor. Although when he was
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walking away believing he had won, my father managed to take his gun and
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shoot killing that man' s life. The fatal wound was on the back,
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which led to rumors that my father was a coward who murdered in the
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back. That didn' t seem so bad to me. I mean,
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I thought I' d only done something impulsively that, unfortunately, ended in
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a tragedy. The more I looked into who my father was, the more
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they told me how much he looked to me. But there was a time
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when this made sense, at least to me. It was on one of
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the few occasions that I was allowed to go out and play with us children
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of the village, a particular girl, who was the daughter of one of
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the most affluent families in the village. That day he was mocking our evident
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poverty, mocking the lack of shoes on our feet. That day I was
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determined not to endure further humiliations. Our words became an angry exchange that finally
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led to a physical fight and although I managed to defeat my opponent with relative
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ease, my anger did not slow down. I continued to beat her and
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whip her head against the ground, even after she no longer offered resistance.
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The children they observed stopped seeing it as a simple child conflict and became a
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worrying spectacle. A neighbor alarmed by the violence that had broken out, ran
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out to separate us, pulled me away from the crowd that had already formed
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and tried to calm me down. He told me that wasn' t the
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way a lady behaved and other things more or less related to it, although
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I didn' t calm down and just wanted to come back to keep hitting
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that girl. But what finally made me ten was his chilling phrase. Do
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you want to go to hell like your father? My fury evaporated instantly and
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I looked at it with disarray. I asked her for explanations about what she
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had said and she responded seriously by saying that my father had not gone to
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heaven because of his wickedness. Then he ordered me back home. I tried
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to get more information, but I couldn' t get anywhere. However,
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those words were etched in my mind throughout the afternoon. Finally, I decided
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to consult my mother about my father and why the people of the village believed
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that his soul was doomed to hell. My mother reacted with hostility and ordered
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me never to mention that man again. He warned me that I was a
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horrible person and that I' d better forget about it. Completely. Despite
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my mother' s orders, I couldn' t stop thinking about it.
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Every day, my curiosity grew more and more. I wanted to know the
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truth about my father and understand why the people saw him as a monster.
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As I sought answers, I found the same answer over and over again.
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My father was an evil man and my mother had done the right thing by
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getting away from him. However, everything changed one day on the way home.
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From school, the girl I had fought with, along with two other
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girls, tried to intimidate me again and of course, having the character I
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had, I did not back down and confronted them by challenging them to a
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confrontation. I remember I even told them I could with all three at the
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same time, when we were about to enter into a violent confrontation, a
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man who had only seen from afar in the village approached us. I remember
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this severe- eyed man scolding the girls for the injustice of fighting three against
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one you give him. He said there was nothing more than cowardice about something
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like that and then he ordered them to go home. After persuading the other
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girls to retire, he turned to me and his words puzzled me. You
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have the same stubborn character that brought your father to ruin, but that same
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character is worthy to admire. At that time I told the man that everyone
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in the village was talking about my father, telling me that he seemed both
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physical and character to me, but no one had really told me who he
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had done to deserve the condemnation of hell and, like all the people in
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the village, told me that I should leave everything in the past and that
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my mother had done well. However, at that time, Harta, from
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that answer, I told her that I was tired, that everyone would tell
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me that it was good for me and that I didn' t know and
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that that was something that only I could decide. So right there I demanded
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answers and he, with a grim expression. Finally, he began to tell
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my father' s story, according to what that man told me. My
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father began by being an extremely poor man, who often had to look in
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the garbage to eat his misery. One day, in his despair, he
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ventured to Mount Remote and with a heart full of ambition, he called the
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devil. He offered him his soul in exchange for wealth and power, beyond
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what any man had ever dreamed of, but he did not get an answer
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at that time, which enraged him, though without remedy. He returned to
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the village that night, while sleeping in a petate on the ground, in
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a small quarter made of quarry, he heard a hellish sound, goat hooves,
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hitting the earth and something or someone desperately knocking on his frightened worn wooden
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door asked who it was, but instead of an answer, he only received
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another terrified beating. He demanded to know the identity of the visitor, warning
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that he would not open the door unless he did so at that time by
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a terrifying and demonic voice, as if it came from the very abyss.
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He replied that he had summoned him and would not leave without making the deal
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frightened, but at the same time somewhat intrigued by what was happening. My
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father opened the door only to meet an indescribable creature. It looked like a
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goat, but with a malevolence that could not be hidden. He was somewhat
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humanoid with hands and torsos similar to a human, but covered in hair like
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that of a goat. The creature passed into its former quarry room and began
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negotiating the dark deal. Even though I listened carefully, I could not help
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but feel a certain skepticism about the history of man. I asked him how
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he knew all this to what he replied that he had been friends with my
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father in his youth and, according to him, my father had told him
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all this. The day after the creature' s visit, my father had
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been willing to give his soul to the devil in exchange for a life of
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luxuries and unimaginable wealth. From that day on, he never missed anything.
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If he wanted something, the necessary money seemed to magically arise in his pockets,
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making him one of the most wealthy men in the village. The man.
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He also trusted me that, as a friend of my father' s,
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I had warned him that the price was too high eternity in hell for
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only a few years of good life on earth, but my father, arrogantly,
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replied that he had no intention of fulfilling that part of the deal.
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After hearing the man' s story, I asked him why my father planned
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not to keep his end of the bargain, and the man explained to me
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that my father had a bold plan to shut the devil in a cage.
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According to the deal, the demon would appear every time he was called by
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my father. His idea was to build a cage big enough to catch the
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creature and then he wouldn' t release it until he guaranteed his soul was
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free. The man laughed a little while talking and told me that at the
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time he didn' t think it would work, but my father was convinced
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that his plan would succeed, so he ordered the construction of the largest cage
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that had ever been seen and sought the blessing of a priest to make sure
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it was effective. In addition, he provided a large amount of holy water
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to the priest to help him in his task. The man, as my
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father' s best friend, could not refuse to help and promised to be
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by his side. Together they carried out their plan on a full moon night.
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They waited patiently until the clock set at three o' clock in the
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morning and at that moment my father called the demon the creature a kind of
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goat or umas and appeared. But before I could say a word, my
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father pushed him into the cage and shut it right away. Then he sprinkled
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the surrounding area with holy water, making sure that the nightmare being could not
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escape the creature was furious and demanded that he be released. At that very
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moment, my father told him that he would not let go until his soul
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was liberated. And the devil replied that his soul was already doomed and that
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no act could break the deal he had accepted. My father didn' t
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believe his words and told him he wouldn' t let him out until he
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got rid of his side of the deal. The devil, with a sinister
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smile, snapped his fingers. In an instant, my father suffered a fulminant
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heart attack that left him on the ground. My father' s friend,
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terrified, ran away and never came back. The inhabitants of the village claimed
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that every night at three o' clock the mother gave could see the goat
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in the cage demanding to be released. Faced with my insatiable curiosity, I
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asked the man where the cage was. I' ve never heard a legend
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like that in town and it seemed strange to me that no one mentioned anything
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so amazing. However, the man refused to reveal the location of the cage.
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He explained that the adults in the village had agreed to keep it secret,
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fearing that a child like me would try to find her out of curiosity
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and release her at a moment of carelessness. In addition, he made me
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promise not to look for the cage, repeating the Council of People' s
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Inhabitants to leave the past alone and focus on the future that my mother had
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built for us. But despite the promise, I could not resist the temptation
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and for several days looked for clues about the location of the cage. I
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discarded obvious, busy places. Convinced that the cage should be hidden to prevent
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anyone from discovering it. As the days passed, my obsession with finding her
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grew. Finally, after a long search, I found a place that seemed
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promising, a wasteland, full of weeds and mesquites that time had completely covered.
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So I went into him and down to the bottom, covered by weeds
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and trees, there was a cage big enough to lock up a person.
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The first time I saw her I doubted it was the same cage in history.
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It seemed rusty, old and empty, but I couldn' t believe
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there was another cage this big and I decided to come back later to investigate
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further. I decided to wait until three in the morning, the mysterious moment
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when the demon was supposedly manifesting. I returned to the place and this time
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I could see that, indeed, there was something inside the cage, a
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creature like a terrifying and grotesque humanoid goat. The creature seemed to ignore my
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presence until I got close enough and stared at it. He put his hands
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on the bars of the cage and bowed forward to the chill. He toured
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my back while waiting for his answer. And finally, after an intense silence,
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the creature spoke you are, the daughter of a bad- born who
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doesn' t know how to keep his promises. Intrigued by the creature'
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s claim, I asked her how she knew everything the creature had revealed,
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laughed and said she knew everything. Then he questioned me about my presence and
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why I wasn' t afraid of him, like the rest of the town.
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My answer was sincere. I was tired of living in fear and just
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wanted to know the truth. When I asked him if my father was really
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in hell, his answer smelled my blood. Yes, my father was in
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hell. The revelation left me speechless and for a moment my mind struggled to
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process the terrible truth. After an uncomfortable silence, I asked him if there
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was any chance that my father could rest the creature in peace. He flatly
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denied, claiming that my father had made a deal that included all his offspring,
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which meant that he was also cursed. However, my idealized attachment to
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my father made me question the truthfulness of the creature’ s words. I
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rejected the idea that my father would have condemned his own children to the creature.
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He laughed sinisterly and assured me he was just telling me the truth.
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However, he also offered me a deal. If I freed him, I
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would take away the curse, and not only that, but he would give
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me more money than I could spend my whole life. I just had to
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open the cage door. I considered the offer for a moment for the possibility
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of a comfortable life without a curse, but something in me resisted giving in,
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for I did not trust the creature and, moreover, did not know
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how to open the cage I explained my dilemma, but instead of helping me,
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the creature became angry. He started hitting the bars in the cage and
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threatened to rip my head off. If I didn' t release him.
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Suddenly, without understanding how it happened, I saw myself being dragged into the
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cage. The creature held me by the arm and I fought desperately to free
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myself by shouting in the process. The tension was unbearable until suddenly a metallic
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sound broke the silence. The old lock that kept the door locked broke open
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and fell to the ground, making the door wide open The creature, now
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out of the cage, looked at me with an unsettling, frightened smile,
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but trying to sound safe, I told her that I did not miss my
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soul to what that thing told me your soul will be intact. Then it
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became a thick cloud of black smoke and faded away. I stayed here in
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fact for several minutes without knowing what to do. I remember feeling like my
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pockets filled with money. I finally came home, where tragedy was waiting for
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me. My mother and my sisters were lying dead, supposedly victims of a
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gas leak from a lamp that had been left on. The people claimed that
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they had died without suffering, but I knew the truth. The curse had
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taken its price. Throughout my life I could never form meaningful bonds with anyone
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who came to me. Affectively, he ended up finding death somehow. Although
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the curse had left me alone and isolated, I never lacked money, but
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the price I paid for the truth was much higher than I had ever imagined. Anonymous account