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Pesadilla En La Misión Militar Historias De Terror - Voces De La Noche · Niebla en el bosque con Evelith von

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I was born in the colorful and vibrant city of Mexico, named after Francisco
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Ruiz. Ever since I remember, I' ve always wanted to be a
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military man. My first memories are full of toy soldiers and drawings of men
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in military uniforms my little hands, trying to capture the strength and courage I
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saw in them. I grew up in a loving and united family that always
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supported my dreams, my parents, both teachers instilled in me the importance of
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commitment, discipline and dedication. My mother was often up late drawing plans for
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battles and military tactics with my crayons. My childhood was marked by an event
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that each year waited impatiently for, the Independence Day parade, the anticipation of
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seeing the military march through the streets of Mexico City in their impeccable uniforms,
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the discipline and pride that they had shed. I was so excited. Every
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parade made me know that my desire to join them one day was completely real.
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As I grew, my interest in the militia did not diminish. On
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the contrary, it was strengthened. I studied diligently, knowing that to enter
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the military academy I needed excellent qualifications and optimal physical condition. In my teenage
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years I balanced my academic studies with rigorous training and my effort was worth it
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when I was accepted. I am currently seventy- three years old. Many
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years ago in my youth, you can from all the effort, dedication and
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excitement I had put to my greatest dream. I was finally in the military.
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Serving my country, I had fulfilled one of my dreams and my parents
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two were extremely proud and had my name high. It was a good time.
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Life was different, although I was a plaintiff being a soldier, at
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first it took me to rise in rank, but thanks to my effort and
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the many missions I was carrying out, I managed to go up little by
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little. He had made great friends, so many soldiers and superiors who,
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although very strict, were always there to help those of lower rank to grow,
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to be disciplined and to fulfill our duty with pride. I was finally
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the one who was at one of those parades that I saw with so much
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taste as a child. Now I saw the little ones get excited when they
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saw me pass, and that was a great reward for all the sacrifices I
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had made to get to where I was, even though they had taught me
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to be strong, brave and courageous. Being so young, this was complicated
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and more so when it came to human lives, but I always tried to
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show myself strong, though on one occasion it was very difficult for me.
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Many things happened in those years, but I remember mostly a lot of strange
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things. I have a lot to tell, but at the moment I will
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narrate one of the most impacted. He left me something that happened. I
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will begin by saying that it was the year of one thousand nine hundred and
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seventy and I was serving as a soldier in the ranks of the Mexican army.
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He explained that he is a soldier to be understood better good is the
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lowest rank in the army and generally refers to those who have just joined the
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armed forces or who have not ascended on the military ladder. I was still
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very young, so I didn' t have much of my incorporation into the
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army and as part of one of my first tasks, I and my platoon
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had been entrusted with the mission of reforesting the steep slopes of Mount Bravo in
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the mountains of Arteaga, in the State of Coahuila. The task, to
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say the least, was to plant several trees specifically pine trees. It seemed
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like one more mission, but it didn' t. The sun of that
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morning was still very high the fresh Dawn began to surrender before the first flashes
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we found ourselves in the task of distributing the small pine trees that we had
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brought to repopulate the area. A few hours after planting the pine trees somewhat
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tired, each of us carried an empty plastic box where the small trees had
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been before. The boxes at that time served nothing but to protect us from
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the cold and moisture of the soil. The air was filled with the fresh
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and slightly bitter smell of the young pines and the murmur of my companions was
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mixed with the sound of the wind between the branches. A little later,
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without warning at about eleven o' clock in the morning, the sky was
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slightly darkened and a raining end began to fall on us. In that place,
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in the mountains of Arteaga. Rain is never just water. Each drop
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looked like a small fragment of ice crashing into our skin. It was normal
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for the climate of that region. Soon after, the rain intensified, the
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sun hid and the sky turned from an almost black greyish tone. Seeking refuge,
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we began to disperse, seeking the protection of the high pine trees that
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populated the land. The trees in those areas are tall and robust. Its
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branches extend into a maze that is perfect for birds, squirrels and other animals.
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We stayed under them waiting for the heavy rain to pass. I remember
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looking up, watching the pin needles move with the wind. Other than that,
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it was very cold, because even though we were under the trees,
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we were getting wet. I was standing next to my corporal a man named
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Jorge Castillo. He was humble and disciplined, originally from a small town in
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Oaxaca. However, something inside me prompted me to seek refuge elsewhere. It
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was a feeling like a bad feeling. I told my corporal I' d
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find another tree to cover for me. There were no words between us,
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just an assent before I turned away that act, which seemed so simple at
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the time, became something that saved my life. Distinguishing myself from my cape,
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I headed towards a solitary pine tree about thirty or forty meters away,
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although the rain fell with greater intensity I felt a strange sense of calm.
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As I went into the thickness, the ground was covered with a thick layer
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of wet grass. Every step I took was followed by the crispy sound of
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vegetation under my boots. It was at that moment when I was halfway between
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the first tree in which I took refuge and the new one, when the
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whole world seemed to stop. A deafening roar echoed in the air, a
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noise so loud that it seemed to come from all directions. At the same
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time the impact of the wave, shock threw me to the ground I landed
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in the grass. My body, numb with surprise and fear. The cry
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of my companions filled the air mixing with the echo of thunder. We were
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all lying on the ground stunned and frightened were asking for help, shouting that
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lightning had fallen. In the midst of confusion, the reality of what happened
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began to be clarified. The lightning had not struck us all, but had
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struck the tree where my cape had stayed, the tree from which I had
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moved terrified. I tried to get up and run towards him, but several
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of my companions held me. They told me not to because they had heard
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that where one lightning strikes another again. But the words seemed distant and blurred,
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choked by the deafening beating of my heart in my ears. My mind
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was fixed on my cape, on the man who had been left alone under
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the tree where I should have been. Tears mingled with the drizzle on my
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face as I struggled to free myself from the hands that held me back.
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But as much as I fought, I couldn' t move. Every scream,
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every sob was a reflection of the impotence I felt. Sadness flooded me
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like a tide, hitting me with the reality of what happened. My corporal,
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a humble and disciplined man, had been struck by lightning in broad daylight.
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The other soldiers looked at me with astonishment and confusion. They asked me
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how it was possible that I was there if I had been seen in the
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same tree as Corporal Jorge. The simplicity of your question only served to accentuate
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the complexity of my pain. I answered them in sobs that I did not
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know what had changed my mind, but that I regretted having left it under
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that tree. Some of them told me that thanks to God I had taken
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away in time, otherwise I would no longer be there to tell. At
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that time, the rain seemed to cease, leaving only the sound of my
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sobs and the murmur of my companions. My heart was broken. My thoughts
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were a huge whirl of confusion and remorse. I approached despite the cries of
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my companions and checked his pulse to see if he still had signs of life
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and yelled at them that his heart was still alive. To an aunt,
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at that crucial moment, I faced a decision of life or death, for
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I knew that the life of my corporal was in my hands, since none
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of the other military wanted to approach. My instincts guided me to the courage
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they teach you in military school. Leaving aside the warnings of the soldiers around
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me with an accelerated heart and trembling hands, I approached Corporal George, whose
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face was covered in soot. By crouching next to him, I ignored the
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sharp smell of smoke and the signs of danger and began to administer artificial breathing
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to him. My knowledge of first aid and the experience I had had in
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previous missions helped me. I breathed deeply and placed on my lips over yours
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trying to give life to your lungs. I was aware of the risk,
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aware that poisonous smoke could infiltrate my body, but I didn' t care
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for a moment of truth with all my heart I wanted to save my life.
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But when I realized there were no more vital signs, I no longer
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beat his heart and at that moment my tears fell. He had made a
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great friendship with the corporal. Jorge was a person who definitely didn' t
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deserve that death. He had been a good man and had always served the
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country with his head up. My colleagues and I took off our service cap
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and put our hand on my chest to show respect in my mind had a
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thousand thoughts and everything was blurry. I still couldn' t believe what had
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happened. My superior had died before my eyes, my good end and friend
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lay under the tree. I could have died too if I hadn' t
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taken off that tree and haven' t taken refuge in another. Death had
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been so close to me that I could smell it. Things are going through
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something, and maybe it wasn' t my time yet. Perhaps I should
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have lived more experiences in military service, his deposed, put the name of
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my country on high, but the idea that my superior was no longer there
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hurt to my soul and I thought I should have told him to move.
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I should have followed more, too. My bad feeling saved myself, but
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not him. One of my colleagues pulled me out of my thoughts touching my
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shoulder. When I turned to see him, I saw on his face an
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expression of horror that I had never seen in anyone and suddenly a sense of
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fear made my hands tremble. My companion pointed with his finger at the tree
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right where the tip was, The tree that had been struck by lightning was
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smoking a column of dark smoke rising toward the cloudy sky by rain. The
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twisted remains of the once majestic pine were now a grotesque shadow of what they
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had been. Its structure was charred and shattered by the force of nature.
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I didn' t see anything strange and my look under made the figure of
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my superior lying still under the tree. His olive green uniform was torn and
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scorched. The fabric melted and burned in several places. The boots he always
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wore carefully tied were untied. The twisted black holes were hanging. But when
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my thoughts were again invading my mind, my companion touched my shoulder again pointing
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up and at that moment I realized something frightening about the burned tree. It
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was a feminine silhouette, it was gripped by the tip. I didn'
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t understand what a woman was doing there It didn' t make sense.
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After what had happened, I looked more closely and my companions also without saying
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a single word, and then I saw that that woman was smiling and that,
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although when I first saw her it looked like the silhouette of a young
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woman at that time, it was as if I were seeing the figure of
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an old woman. One of my colleagues said she was a witch, but
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I said no. He said nonsense, that those things didn' t exist,
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but there was something unpleasant about that scene. He also began to smell
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like sulfur and did not understand why. Little by little, that woman'
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s face became more visible and her eyes were completely black, her wrinkled skin,
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full of moles, looked careless and her mouth showed teeth that looked like
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an animal, although I thought maybe as far away and I didn' t
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see very well she was hallucinating. But another of my companions said that if
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I was a witch and at that moment I began to believe the witch,
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horrifying and disfigured, she began to descend from the tree as if she were
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floating. Her body moved grotesquely and we realized that she was completely naked and
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her feet had nails that looked like claws. We were paralyzed by fear.
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We could only observe as the witch approached the inert body of my superior,
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without first looking at us with her dead eyes, her long, bony fingers
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caressed her cheek before licking it with a long, thin tongue, the witch
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seemed to taste the flesh of the deceased and with a quick and brutal movement,
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ripped a piece of flesh from her face and began chewing it with delight.
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Fear kept us in a state of soc That horrible, supernatural creature had
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appeared in broad daylight, something that made one of my companions pee from fear
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and no one judged it afterwards, for the scene before our eyes was unbearable,
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but none had the courage to face the witch or flee. Every second
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I spent I was only serving to intensify the terror we felt. Time seemed
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to have stopped and we were spectators of the grotesque scene unfolding before our eyes.
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Our bodies were paralyzed and our minds were filled with horror. The tears
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of fear and sorrow were running down my face it was almost as if we
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were in a trance unable to turn our eyes away from the witch who was
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continuing her act. Atrocious after what seemed like an eternity, the creature finally
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finished chewing the piece of flesh on the cheek of the cape. Roberto seemed
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to have finished his disgusting feast, although we thought he would eat it completely.
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He conformed to his cheek, wiped his mouth with a piece of cloth
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that he had torn out of my superior' s uniform. His dark,
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penetrating eyes roamed through each of us as if he were evaluating us by deciding
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who he would choose as his next feast. His gaze was so intense that
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he could feel how evil was in him the air. Then, without warning,
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the witch vanished into the air. There was neither a flash of light
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nor a sound indicating his departure. He just disappeared leaving us alone with our
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partner' s body and a deafening silence. We stayed there for a while,
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still afraid to move. We just look at each other without saying a
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single word. Finally, after a few minutes, the sound of the vehicle
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from the healing unit broke the silence. The arrival of help, although late,
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seemed to break the trance we were in. But even with his arrival
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we could not take away the sense of terror he had left us. The
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disgusting witch, the image of her disfigured face and the way she delighted with
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the flesh of our superior remained etched in our minds to this day. I
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think he spoke for everyone. The scene was chaos. Doctors and nurses worked
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frantically to try to resurrect my superior, but we all knew it was in
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vain. We could do nothing but observe as they tried to revive a man
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who had already been consumed by death. The rest of the day was depressing.
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I still couldn' t believe my corporal went to a better place.
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I was taken back to camp. My mind was still tormented by what I
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had witnessed every time I closed my eyes. He could see the witch,
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her lifeless eyes, her blood- stained mouth, her teeth that looked like
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knives. It was something that marked me in a horrible way. I can
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still remember the naked old lady who ate my superior' s cheek. She
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was making fun of a tragic moment, mocking our pain. We were all
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questioned, but I couldn' t get a word out of my mouth.
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He didn' t react. To have lost my superior and to have seen
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that witch had been too much for my body. I didn' t want
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to talk about it, I didn' t want to see anyone, I
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didn' t eat, I didn' t sleep, because I had nightmares
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where I heard that horrible noise again and where I saw the witch again.
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I was feeding only on luck, but of course that didn' t give
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me the energy I needed. I' ve never lived like this before.
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I was plunged into the crying and fear of seeing that disgusting woman again.
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I felt he was coming for me. Then they checked me and gave me
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a diet that I had to follow to the letter. Clearly he was not
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quite well yet and the other soldiers were also affected. Although none of them
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spoke openly about it. I could see it in his eyes in the way
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they avoided answering the questions of the comrades who were not there, like me,
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were tormented by the pests and memories of that event. None of them
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said anything about the apparition. Out of respect for Corporal Jorge, the death
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of my superior had left a void in our team. He was someone who
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had always encouraged us to be better, to love our work, to respect
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and honor our country. He was always willing to help and advise younger soldiers.
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His loss was a severe blow to all of us, a loss that
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was felt even more by the circumstances of his death. As the days passed
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I found myself struggling not only with the mourning for the loss of my superior,
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and although I tried to move on, fear and grief pursued me.
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They were no doubt a ghost who constantly reminded me of the terror I had
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witnessed in Ajusco. My family was worried when they knew what had happened,
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but they were glad it was okay. The truth. It was very difficult
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months where I started to think that maybe I should have killed the lightning too,
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because just a minute before I was there next to my corporal, but
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my sixth sense told me to move, but I couldn' t be telling
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this for a long time. Any noise I heard I thought and felt it
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was lightning. It is important to note that even today, the fear that
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invades me as I contemplate lightning is immense, because I am fully aware that
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any fateful act could occur in the blink of an eye. Since I was
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a kid, I wanted to be a member of the military service, but
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I never imagined that I would live something like that and in those years I
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think everything was more complicated. After a long time since everything happened and asking
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myself why that spectrum had appeared, I came to the conclusion that perhaps that
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witch lived in that region and, knowing what had happened, had gone there
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to take advantage of the situation and feed her disgusting body. Anyway, the
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years went by and everything got better. They sent me on many more missions
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and I always tried to follow my corporal' s advice. Jorge grew up
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from position until at the age of fifty- five, I voluntarily retired from
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service so that I could enjoy my life in a quieter way. But I
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will never forget all the experiences in my years as a soldier and of course,
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I will never forget Corporal Jorge anonymous account