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El Diablo Se Apoderó De El Historias De Terror - Voces De La Noche · Niebla en el bosque con Evelith von

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Lucia Gomez called me and I' m fifty- eight years old. My
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life has always revolved around faith. I believe in God and have always done
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so, just like the generations of my family before me. My grandparents were
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very religious people, they were Catholics and they lived their faith every day.
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My parents inherited the same love for religion in their footsteps. They were also
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Catholics and taught me to live according to the teachings of our faith. Since
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I was a child and until today I go by the hand of my life
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partner, my husband Carlos. Since we crossed our lives, we have shared
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not only our joys and sorrows, but also our faith and belief in God.
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He, like me, has stood firm in his devotion and together,
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day after day, we strive to live according to the values and teachings of
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our Catholic religion. We both understand and believe deeply in the importance of faith
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in our lives. Our belief in God not only gives us strength and hope
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in difficult times, but also helps us to appreciate our daily blessings and joys.
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Together we work tirelessly to keep alive the tradition of our faith, transmitting
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our beliefs and values to our children and grandchildren, cultivating in them the love
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and respect for our religion, in our home. Faith is a part of
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our life, it is the core of our existence. It' s not
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just about going to Mass on Sundays, but how we live every moment of
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every day. Our house is full of love, kindness and compassion, values
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that our faith has taught us to value. Every night, before sleep,
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we say our prayers together, thanking for the blessings we have received and asking
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for guidance for the next day. Anyway, we have three kids. All
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three are men. Julio is twenty, Raul seventeen and the youngest Omar is
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fifteen. It was an ordinary Saturday and after a week of work and responsibilities
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that had left us exhausted, we had decided to go to the city center
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Tlaxcala. It is a very nice place and especially the center on weekend,
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our morning began in a small restaurant located in one of the long streets of
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the center. There the tables were made of rustic wood and the aroma of
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fresh coffee invited us to start the day with a smile. We have breakfast
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calmly, enjoying the flavors and our family company. After savouring the last sips
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of coffee, we went for a walk while eating an ice cream. After
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the show, we decided to go to a nearby park was very nice,
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surrounded by trees and with a lot of activity. That' s where we
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ran into a group of friends of my son Raúl. They had had a
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football match that morning and had stayed to chat under the shade of the trees.
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I' ve always liked those young people very much, so we settled
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in one of the stone benches and let Raul join his friends. In the
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meantime, we began to plan the time when we would go to Mass in
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the morning. The next day, in front of us was the Church.
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His bell tower was very nice and I just liked that park because it reminded
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me of Sunday mornings dedicated to faith and God. From our position we could
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listen to Raul' s friends speaking enthusiastically. They were talking out loud,
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but then something happened. A boy named Oscar asked them something unusual. He
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wanted to know if anyone in the Group knew the legend of the Church.
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The answers were negative. They all shook their heads. One of them encouraged
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Oscar to tell the story. Then, Oscar, with a mysterious smile on
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his face, began to narrate on our bench. My husband and two other
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children were immersed in their own conversation, talking about their tiring weeks at work
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and at school and about the latest events in the world of football. But
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I couldn' t concentrate on any of that. The history of Oscar had
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captured my curiosity more than anything about my religion and because every Sunday we went
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to that Church. I have been going to Mass for a lifetime, but
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one of them is the one that has marked me the most, because Oscar
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began to tell him that one of his uncles had told him that many years
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ago, in that same church there was an event that marked the life of
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all present. The protagonist of the story was Teresa, a woman deeply committed
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to her faith and devotion to the church. Unfortunately, it was possessed by
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a demon known as Sayatin, an evil spirit believed to be sent by Lucifer
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himself to perform evil acts in the bodies of people. The father of the
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time assumed the responsibility of carrying out the exorcism in Teresa. However, because
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of their lack of preparation and experience in these matters, everything went out of
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control. The demon managed to seize the priest' s body, causing him
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convulsions and drastically altering his voice, which acquired a grave tone similar to a
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voice coming from the hereafter with an enormous force Father R. The R or
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possessed began to attack those present, throwing them violently, as the exorcism developed
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in the midst of chaos, another priest realized the situation and decided to intervene
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courageously. He approached the devil and proposed a deal to protect the Community and
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themselves. The covenant was that the demon would cease to harm them and leave
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them alone in exchange for them to remain silent about what happened and allow the
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demon to return every thirty years to possess the church parents of that moment and
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to do with them as he wished. Surprisingly, the demon accepted the proposed
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deal and Oscar, who told the story, mentioned that his uncle had recently
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warned him that the thirty- year term was running out and it was rumored
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that the demon would be lurking ready to carry out his promise and possess one
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of the current priests of that church. At the time Oscar finished the story,
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I was so upset that I was going to take raul by the arm
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to leave, but something interrupted me from the church. Father Armando was coming
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out, but he was shouting things that didn' t understand. I don
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' t know if it was because we were away and we didn' t
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get it right or because I was really saying nonsense. He was completely naked,
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with a giant red cross painted on his chest. Father Ramón tried to
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reach him by yelling at him to stop, but Father Armando did not even
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change. I just kept running fast my family, Raul' s friends and
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I were totally surprised. Oscar said his uncle was right, that Father Armando
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was probably possessed. I yelled at my kids to get out of there.
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We took a cab that took us home. When we arrived we were all
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sweating cold and when my husband wanted to bring the matter up, I told
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him not to say anything, that those were rumors and that surely Father Armando
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' s incident had some explanation. And tomorrow we would ask the Father.
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Ramón knew that my husband had not heard the story that Oscar had told,
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but if he had heard when he said that Father Armando was surely possessed,
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for me all my son' s friend had told was a complete lack of
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respect for the church and he did not understand how it was possible for his
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uncle to be able to tell such twisted and false stories. I spoke privately
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to Raúl and told him not to mention anything about what his friend had told
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him, because he didn' t want him to be telling lies and blaspheming.
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Raúl told me that he would not comment and that I did not worry,
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because he already knew that his friend always told things that were not true.
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That afternoon we all ate in silence and after that. Someone knocked on
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the door when I opened I realized that it was the French neighbor who was
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going to tell me what they were saying about the father, arming that he
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had run away naked from the church and how undecent that seemed to him,
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I lied to him saying that I had seen nothing. It was a pious
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lie, but necessary in order not to continue to feed a gossip. I
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also told him that surely that was not true and if it was true,
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some explanation would have to be given the next day at Mass. We'
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d find out. The afternoon passed and gradually I thought about other things and
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no longer what I had heard and seen in the park. When night came,
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my family and I watched comedy movies and ate popcorn. It was about
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ten o' clock at night and about twelve o' clock at night,
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we all went to sleep, since the next day we had to go to
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Mass. Early I was very tired. So the dream overcame me, but
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around three o' clock in the morning, a loud sound woke me up.
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My husband was already awake, sitting on the bedside and when he saw
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me awake, he asked me why the church bell was ringing at three in
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the morning. That was unusual, almost impossible. Unless they had an emergency,
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my kids didn' t wake up, so we didn' t.
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It was best they didn' t find out anything. I was worried and
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I told him to ask for a cab to go over there as to whether
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something had happened. When we went out to wait for the taxi, we
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noticed that many people were also outside muttering about what was going on. Doña
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Francisca, told me that never in all the time I had lived there had
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the bell been heard. At that time I told him we' d go
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see what was going on and he told me he sent me up to the
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table. She was my friend, but sometimes I didn' t like her
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for gossip. The bell kept ringing and ringing while we were in the cab.
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When we arrived we noticed that there was someone where the bell was located.
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It was Father Armando, who was moving her repeatedly, but behind him
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was Father Ramón, who seemed to want to stop him, but did not
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succeed. Seeing that several people were spectators, Father Ramón yelled at us from
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there to go home, that everything was fine. It was just that Father
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Armando had had an anxiety crisis. The truth. I thought it was something
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else, but I decided to believe him and told my husband to leave for
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a while. After we get home. The sound of the bell stopped and
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was not heard again all morning. But the worst of all happened that Sunday.
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We got up at seven in the morning and got ready to go to
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the nine o' clock Mass. I was intrigued by all the events of
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the day before and at dawn. I wanted to know what was really going
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on with the father arming. My husband took my hand before entering the Church.
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By giving me security, we arrived and sat down, because as my
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family and I were always among the first to reach the Church, we had
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places to choose. Sometimes my children did not want to wake up so early
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on Sundays, but I always told them that, just as they had an
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obligation at school, they also had an obligation to God. It was eight
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twenty in the morning when we arrived so there was no one else in the
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Church. But the more time passed, the more people were coming, the
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people behind us were talking about the bell that sounded the night before and I
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was getting nervous. Suddenly it crossed my mind that perhaps what Oscar had said
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was true, although I was more reasonable thinking that a boy his age might
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not be right about something like that. It was certain that the events that
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had happened were just a coincidence. When the clock struck nine o' clock
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in the morning, the Church was completely full. In fact, there were
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even people standing outside to listen to the Mass. It started in due time.
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The choir, which was made up of children, began to sing and
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several men played their instruments, we sang the songs to start and a few
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minutes later the father came out wearing a white robe. We all get up
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from the wooden benches in a sign of respect. When I saw him there
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I felt calmer. That meant everything was fine. We all loved how the
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father arming gave the humility. For those who do not know the homily is
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the part where the priest gives a small sermon and reflection on the readings of
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the day. His way of speaking always filled our soul with peace, but
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when I saw him more carefully, I realized that the father arming looked different
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with a strange appearance and showing obvious signs of tiredness and paleness. Surprisingly,
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his usual smile was not seen on his face. He walked to the altar
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slowly and bowed. Before he began Mass, he gave the initial greeting and
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carried out the penitential act. However, his voice sounded weak, snoring and
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somewhat strange during the readings and the psalm preferred to sit in his chair looking
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into the void. His eyes were narrowed as if he intended to rest or
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even sleep. He also began to sweat, showing clear discomfort or nervousness.
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My husband looked silently at me, inquiring whether the father arming would be suffering
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from some illness, to which he answered yes with a concerned assent, although
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we both knew it was something else. The priest’ s countenance looked desolate,
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showing a very deteriorated state of health. Then he began the homily that
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we both longed to hear from all present. We looked forward to his words,
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hoping that he might share with us the details of his discomfort that told
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us that he felt bad or something like that, but that was not the
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case. He stood on the podium and looked at us with disgust on his
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face, and for a short moment he seemed to vomit. However, he
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tried to make an effort to read. He began by saying that morning during
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the sacred readings, Jesus transmitted his message to us. However, in the
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midst of his speech, the father, arming, abruptly stopped his words.
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He took his hand to dry his sweat. Suddenly a series of toces burst
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into the environment through the amplification system. The words uttered became unintelligible, subduing
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the faithful in a bewilderment, until suddenly he began to say very ugly things,
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rudeness and curses. We were all upset, for the fact that he
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was ill did not in any way justify the obscenities that came out of his
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lips in that sacred enclosure. Then he began to say sorry. I corrected
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myself in today' s readings and once again, his oratory was interrupted.
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His voice arns acquired a different timbre, a sinister depth. Sons of we
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were able to perceive the sighs of unbelief spread among the people who were there.
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There was even booing. We all listened perplexedly to the words he said
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next, words I will never forget. His throat began to clear and his
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eyes looked strange until he said they' re all going to burn in hell.
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That was certainly not the voice we knew of Father Armando. At the
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time I realized that what I was probably saying to Oscar was probably true.
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I didn' t understand how your uncle knew that information. I had probably
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heard it from someone else, but it hurt my soul to know that in
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the church we went to every Sunday there was a horrible demon hidden and that
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he had probably owned Father Armando' s life. After all of us heard
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such a disturbing statement, some rose up and left the church compound. The
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bewildered ministers did not know how to act or what measures to take. Father
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Ramon only denied his head, admitting his disapproval and becoming very nervous. My
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children looked at us for an answer, but we didn' t know it.
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Father Armando began to breathe with difficulty. His body seemed to fade,
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but he resolutely clung to the podium not to succumb. One of the ministers
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alerted him to his apparent fall, rose from his seat and ran to his
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aid, holding him to prevent his fall. However, the priest finally collapsed,
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unable to resist the forces that abandoned him. Witnesses of that dramatic episode,
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other people in the church quickly approached the NS, giving their support and
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uttering alarmed screams. They carried the father armed in their arms and rushed him
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to the parish offices. The Mass on that morning had ended abruptly and overwhelmingly.
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Father Ramón told us not to worry, that the father would be fine,
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that he was just going through attacks. Having anxiety, we went home
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and never talked about it again. I didn' t allow my children or
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my husband to say anything about it. But I couldn' t help thinking
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at night that it had really happened with the father arming. The following Sunday,
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Father Ramón informed us about the serious illness that was afflicting the father arming,
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although curiously he omitted to make any mention of the deep and snoring voice
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that had told us that we would go to hell. It was precisely on
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that occasion that we had the last opportunity to see the father arming himself in
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the Church. His words left in us uncertainty and amazement, But the lack
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of explanations from Father Ramón left us with a vacuum of answers, because,
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although several people approached to ask him what had happened, in fact, he
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completely ignored the questions. Since then, the absence of the father arming became
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evident in every Sunday celebration. We missed his comforting presence and his wisdom-
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filled teachings. The parishioners were looking for some news or additional information among themselves,
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but we only found humors, vagues and baseless speculations. The parish was
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plunged into a sense of bewilderment and nostalgia. The demon had seized him.
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Of that I have no doubt anonymous account