Latest / Niebla en el bosque con Evelith von / Su Alma No Descansa Por Mi Culpa - Historias De Terror - Voces De La Noche

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Su Alma No Descansa Por Mi Culpa - Historias De Terror - Voces De La Noche · Niebla en el bosque con Evelith von

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Over the years, a nightmare had woven its net into the darkest corners of
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my Mind, in that nocturnal riddle I saw myself a woman entering an abandoned
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house. With every step I took, the echo resonated in the darkness and
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an unexplained sense of restlessness took over my being something within me. He resisted
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moving forward, aware that what he was waiting for in the shadows was not
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something he wanted to face. The house. A maze of shadows and whispers
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was revealed as a recurring scenario in my troubled nights. Every detail, from
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the dimness that enveloped every corner to the resounding sound of my own steps,
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was repeated with terrifying precision. However, just as I crossed the threshold of
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a particular room I woke up abruptly soaked in sweat and with my heart pounding
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on my chest. Over the years, this nightmare had taken root in my
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subconscious, becoming a constant presence in my life. In recent months, their
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frequency intensified, waking me repeatedly in the darkest hours of the night. The
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fatigue and emotional weight of this nocturnal experience began to affect my day to day.
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As a functional adult, I decided to seek help through therapy in the
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hope of freeing myself from the chains of this recurring nightmare. However, as
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I shared my experiences in the sessions, a disconcerting revelation began to emerge.
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What I initially thought was simply a dream was revealed as something deeper and rooted
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in my past, my therapist with patience and insight encouraged me to explore beyond
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the limits of my conscious memories. Thus, the layers of my childhood in
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a rural town in northern Mexico began to take off before me, a place
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where technology was a rarity and electricity was a scarce good, even for those
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who could afford it. I vividly remember the village store, the only place
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where television blinked with limited images and where the sound of the radio became a
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momentary escape. My family, struggling economically, could not afford modern comforts to
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enjoy those brief moments of entertainment. I was supposed to buy a soda at
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the store and sit in front of the blinking screen. It was in one
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of those afternoons, while absorbing the fleeting images of television, that my deepest
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desire went on, A commercial flashed on the screen presenting some Waki Tokis.
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They weren' t just toys. To me, they were the promise of
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a connection beyond the limits of my little world. The idea of rising with
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other people at a distance from the loneliness that surrounded my life took hold of
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my imagination. It was as if those personal radios had the power to transform
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my existence into the people. After those ephemeral twenty minutes of television, I
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ran home with the determination to express my deepest desire. After expressing my wish
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enthusiastically to my parents, I noticed that both listened attentively to me at first.
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However, the illusion faded almost instantly. In interpreting the eyes that exchanged
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their eyes, they reflected concern and a reality that they could not hide.
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They couldn' t afford those Wacki Tockis. Despite that hard truth, I
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decided to persist arguing that if they gave me that gift, they wouldn'
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t have to worry about finding me something else for the next five birthdays.
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I assured them how much I loved them and begged them to consider buying them,
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especially because my birthday was just around the corner. My parents, with
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a sincerity that I appreciated even in my disappointment, told me that to get
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those coveted Joakiy Tockis would have to make a trip to the city. The
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reality of their economic limitations was undeniable and the prospect of a trip to the
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city became unattainable to them. At that moment, although disappointment seized me and
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sadness seized my heart, I left the subject for peace. I knew from
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life in that town that many times what we want does not materialize and learning
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to accept that reality was an early lesson in my life. The real misfortune
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came a few months after that conversation, the news that a village boy not
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only got the wakitokis he so longed for, but they were also all that
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I had imagined and more, resonated in my ears as a cruel melody.
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The fashion of these devices spread rapidly among the children of the village and in
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a matter of about two months, several of my companions already had theirs.
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However, during that period my family was going through an economic bump and,
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although those radios were more accessible, my parents could not afford to buy them
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at that time. Adding one more layer to my sadness in the evening,
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as I walked back home with the light of day, fading away, I
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made a peculiar discovery, something appeared half- buried under a nearby mesquite and
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my curiosity led me to that. To my astonishment it turned out to be
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a personal radio, although it was just one more time I searched. The
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pair didn' t show up, but the excitement seized me. Realizing that
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somehow I' d gotten what I wanted so badly. I quickly kept it
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when I noticed that there were no witnesses around me at home, I considered
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showing it to my parents, but almost immediately discard the wrong idea My father,
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known for his honesty, would surely insist on looking for the owner,
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even though that would involve walking home by house until he found it, a
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task that would certainly be a torment for me. So I chose to keep
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it a secret, hiding it inside my pillowcase. I planned to turn it
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on that night, once my parents were deep asleep so they never knew I
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had it. However, while I was waiting for something truly strange to lie
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down, it began to unfold in the stillness of the night, while I
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remained fully awake with my gaze fixed on the ceiling and waiting for my parents
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' constant whisper to be extinguished, telling me that they had finally plunged into
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a deep sleep. I noticed an unusual sound coming from my pillowcase. It
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was the distinguishing static of the radios a disconcerting phenomenon, since it clearly reminded
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the to have turned off the device before saving it. In addition, to
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prevent any involuntary ignition, he had removed his batteries, adding a touch of
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mystery. To the situation. Intrigued and slightly concerned about the possibility of my
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parents hearing the sound, I extended my hand to the case to extract the
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radio and turn it off. However, when I pulled it out, I
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checked that it remained off without a trace of batteries that could explain its activation.
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This riddle plunged me into a sea of thoughts questioning the very reality of
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what I was experiencing, I chose to put the radio back into hiding,
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attributing the strange event to my own feelings of guilt. However, just a
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few minutes after lying down, the static resurfaced and this time, after the
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persistent whisper of interference, I would swear to have distinguished a voice automatically l
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or r l l l r N by submerging my hand in the cover by
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extracting the radio, but to my perplexity, it was still off. The
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confusion increased when, as he was about to put him back on the pillow,
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he turned on by himself, unleashing again the static that on this occasion
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gave way to a childish, clear and clear voice that greeted with a simple
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wave. The voice sounded like a child similar to mine. The perplexity and
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surprise weaved an enigma around my thoughts, as I could not understand how the
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radio, apparently without energy, emitted sounds and, more so as that childish
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voice called me from the other side. My limited knowledge of the functioning of
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the radios left room for mystery and the idea that they could somehow be charged,
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perhaps with the energy of the sun timidly assounded in my thoughts. However,
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that theory could not fully explain the phenomenon that it was experiencing. Despite
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the uncertainty. Another dilemma arose in my mind could be the voice of the
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true owner of the radio. The possibility that someone was looking for the device
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I now possessed filled my heart with a mixture of emotions, from disappointment to
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moral responsibility. I decided to face the truth, guided by the principles that
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education and ethics had taught me. Uncertainty and intrigue intertwined as I approached the
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radio speaker, responding timidly with a wave. However, the device seemed to
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have turned off again without giving me any response. I put the radio back
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in my pillowcase, preparing for any sound indicating that the voice on the other
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side was ready to speak. Despite my expectations, the minutes passed without more
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interruptions and I plunged into a deep and anxious sleep. I was deeply asleep
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when, in the middle of the morning. The persistent sound of static,
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along with the child' s voice at the other end of the radio,
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abruptly ripped me out of my sleep, even though I had no idea of
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the exact time. The shadow of the room indicated that the dawn was still
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distant. The boy continued his monologue by tirelessly repeating a wave there was someone
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there awoke in a state of confusion, but also of an acute intrigue that
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prompted me to take again the little Oaktok and from under my pillow. Almost
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without thinking, I answered with a weak one if I am on the other
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side. The boy' s response was a laugh followed by a relaxed comment.
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How good I thought no one would ever answer a bit perplexed. I
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mentioned that I had heard it before but the radio had gone off before I
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could answer him. The boy laughed again and commented that he was fine,
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that he had left the radio there on purpose, waiting for someone to find
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him and talk to him. My joy overflowed by telling him that it was
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I who found him that afternoon and that I had picked him up excitedly.
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However, my childish mind could not grasp the strangeness of the situation. A
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simple children' s toy picking up such a distant signal was something that was
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beyond my comprehension. Despite my attempts, I was unable to identify his voice
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with that of any of the children in the village I used to interact with,
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which was unusual. In such a small place where everyone knew each other.
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Although his voice was different, I did not raise any suspicion. At
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that excited moment, I asked him if he lived in the village, but
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his response, bewildering, was negative. He was not a local inhabitant,
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he had only come from persistent visio in the search for a new friend.
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I proposed to meet him the next day and asked him where he lived or
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where he was staying. Your answer is somewhat disconcerting. It was a simple
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comment. It' s very cold in here. My childish mind alien to
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subtleties, assumed that it referred to the cold of the village at that time,
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with a smile on my face, I said yes, it was quite
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cold. However, the child seemed to ignore my observation and continued with a
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question that puzzled me. You think you can come for me, even though
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the boy' s application was a little strange. I thought I just wanted
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to play or have a good time. I felt enthusiastically, promising that I
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would come as soon as dawn. That response was received with the same fusivity
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by the child, who expressed that it would be the best in the world.
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After that exchange, the radio stops. He paid again by submerging my
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room and my mind, in an unsettling silence at dawn, I kept the
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radio back in the pillowcase and lay down this time with a happiness that enveloped
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me for the idea of keeping the device. I firmly believed that if I
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managed to get the child to come home and explain the situation to my father,
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he would have no trouble letting me stay with the radio He planned to
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hide it that night and the next day convince the child to go to my
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house to talk to my father. With those thoughts I plunged into a deep
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and quiet sleep. The next morning, just as the first rays of the
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sun leaked out the window, the radio sounded again with the child' s
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voice. Awakening me with his enthusiasm. The boy urged me to go in
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search of him, arguing that it was already daylight and that I could go
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without further delay to a sleepy one I pulled out the radio and replied yes,
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but that first I had to have breakfast and ask my mother' s
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permission. The boy insisted, asking me to go immediately because it was very
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cold. This statement puzzled me, as the day was sunny and promised to
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be quite warm. However, I did not give it much importance and assured
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him that I would go quickly I went down for breakfast and when my mother
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gave me permission to leave, I returned to my room to take the radio.
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Once away from home, the boy resumed the conversation by asking me if
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I was ready to look for him. He answered in the affirmative by asking
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him what his house was. Instead of giving me a precise direction, the
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boy wandered a bit and indicated that he had to walk to the pyrul of
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the mip of Don Matias. Once there I had to follow the road to
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the sidewalk. This description intrigued me and at the same time filled me with
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restlessness. I knew the location of the Milpa and the sidewalk, but the
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latter did not lead to a pleasant place. Rather, it led to a
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large house under construction owned by someone who had gone to the United States and
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abandoned the project. Rumors among the children of the village claimed that paranormal presences
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existed in that area. I doubted whether I should continue towards that uncertain fate.
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The combination of the history of the black house and the horror tales planted
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the seed of fear in my childish mind, making the decision more complicated.
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Despite my doubts, the child' s words encouraged me to continue. He
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made sure he played there all the time and there was no danger. I
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just wanted to play with me, although scared of wanting to keep that toy
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radio moved me to follow his directions. I walked towards the construction surprised by
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the tranquility surrounding the road without giving it more importance. I advanced until I
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was in front of the big black house. The structure lacked windows and doors,
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projecting a frightening image from the outside. I had never ventured alone up
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there, remembering the only time I had visited the house with a group of
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children. That occasion ended in flight, frightened by the crackling of a branch
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or any other harmless sound. Standing in front of the house alone and without
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trace of the child who claimed to own the other radio, I noticed how
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frightening the place looked about to turn me around to get away the radio turned
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on again. The signal was clearer and sharper. The boy incited me to
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come in, disconcerting me even more. I looked around. I didn'
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t see anyone. I responded cautiously, suggesting playing elsewhere, but the child
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insisted that he enter without further ado. I started going into the house.
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From a more adult perspective, I reflect on the decision to enter recognizing that
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perhaps I should have fled at that time. As I entered, I was
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greeted by a smell of moisture and decay that flooded my lungs. The lack
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of sunlight was due to the thickness of the surrounding trees. Although the house
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lacked doors and windows, the child, through the radio, continued to give
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me precise directions on where to turn and how many steps to take. As
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he progressed, he noticed that the temperature was dropping dramatically in an intense cold.
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It enveloped me as if I had entered an altered dimension dominated by coldness.
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My teeth were chestnutd and occasionally I expressed my desire to leave that place.
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The boy, however, told me that we could leave, but first
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I would have to find him. As he continued to receive indications about his
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location. The feeling of restlessness intensified. She was immersed in a surrealistic experience
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where reality and the unexplainable intertwined in a disturbing way. After turning towards a
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corridor, I saw a shadow enter one of the rooms. I spoke on
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the radio noticing how my voice sounded from the echo of the house and asked
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the child if that shadow was. He confirmed that he did, but I
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noticed that his voice was only heard through the radio, even though he was
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already very close to him. Although strange, I continued to advance in the
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hope that, once found, we could leave that dark house. I walked
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slowly down the hallway and as I entered the room, where I saw the
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shadow, I found something confusing for my young age. There was no one
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there, just shovel and a lot of loose dirt that seemed to plug a
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hole. The confusion took over me about to ask the child where he was
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hiding, but he stepped forward saying that he was there, that he had
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found him. Incredulous I told him I couldn' t see him and he
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replied that he was under the earth. In the middle of the darkness,
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the earth began to move as if something was about to emerge. Fear invaded
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me. I dropped the radio and ran out of the house without stopping until
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I got home I told everything to my father, who, knowing he couldn
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' t invent something like that, went up to the house to investigate the
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story. For me it ended at that moment, since I never heard anything
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more as an adult. My father revealed to me that in the house he
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found the body of a missing child from the neighboring village, whose disappearance was
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reported a week ago. Although they never found those responsible, they discovered that
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the boy was carrying one of the radios with him. With the knowledge of
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the real tragedy. I felt a deep sadness for the child and only hope
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that now his soul can rest in peace. Anonymous account