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Dejanos En Paz Historias De Terror - Voces De La Noche · Niebla en el bosque con Evelith von

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Since I was a kid, I behaved in a very different way than the
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rest of the kids. My parents say that during my first years of life
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they were really worried because my mind was not entirely healthy because I disliked some
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textures or flavors that other children would love. In addition, it took me
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a long time to talk, among other things, that my parents were forced
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to put aside their beliefs that child therapists were for failed parents who could not
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control their children, and they decided to take me with one. To my
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parents' luck it turned out that I only had a fairly low level of
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autism, so, in the words of my father, I could pass like
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a normal child. Whatever that means, because in my own experience I have
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no idea what it looks like to someone normal. At the age of five,
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my dad gave me a box full of toy carts. I guess I
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was hoping I' d play with them, but I wasn' t interested
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in that. What I loved was to keep them in their original packaging I
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hated the feeling of seeing them damaged or powdered by use. As far as
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I can remember, I spent the whole afternoon settling the cars by color and
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size. And that was the beginning of that obsession as a collector of toys
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and as the years passed he did not stop there. I loved finding unique
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pieces and restoring them to look new, so they could often find me hanging
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around in second- hand shops or nearby bazaars. In school I didn'
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t usually have many friends, most of them tried to avoid me and honestly
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didn' t bother me at all. It didn' t matter how many
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times my dad told me he was lying and that he really did bother me.
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I knew how to appreciate my loneliness. I remember when I was twelve
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years old I was at the same usual table when Max first approached me.
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I have to make it clear that Max is not a real man, only
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that he doesn' t want him to really say it. But the point
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is, he asked me for some notes from the Spanish class. I gave
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them to him and even when he got what he wanted from me, he
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decided to stay a little longer to talk to me a little bit. We
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talked about what lasted the rest of the recess and returned to the salon as
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good friends, a friendship that lasts until today, when I turned fourteen.
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Max surprised me with a special present. It was an old boy' s
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toy fishing. If you pressed a button, the doll would move and pretend
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to fish. He needed several repairs like varnish paint and maybe open it to
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adjust the mechanism, so that it didn' t get stuck when it worked.
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However, what made it even more special was that it had my name
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engraved on it. Besides that fishing was one of the few outdoor activities I
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liked to do. I loved it and, after spending several hours fixing it
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to become perfect again, I put it on a shelf along with my other
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favorite toys. The first night after receiving Max' s gift, I woke
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up at some point in the morning, as I heard a loud noise that
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made me jump out of bed. All my toys were on the floor.
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I thought it was weird. For a moment I thought it could be because
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the shelf had collapsed by weight. However, I not only knew exactly how
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much weight that ledge could hold, but I also knew that I had not
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placed so many pounds for it to happen. So I turned on the light
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of my room and saw that they were not only the toys of one shelf
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and they were r but of all, and not only that, but,
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as I suspected, the shelves were in perfect condition. The only problem was
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that all the toys had fallen and I couldn' t explain why, but
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I couldn' t leave it like that so I was almost until dawn trying
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to leave everything as it was when I went down for breakfast that morning,
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I tried to tell my parents what happened. However, as it usually happens
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with those who enter the autistic spectrum, they treat us like children with a
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lot of imagination, at best, so I followed the tide so that finally
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my mother told me it must have been a very crazy dream. Dear my
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sister, who, by that time, was only ten years old. She
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said she had heard how all the things in my room fell in the night,
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but although they usually believed her more than I did, my dad told
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me to stop hitting my crazy sister and not say those things again, so
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I followed up with my breakfast and tried to forget about it over time.
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I started having strange nightmares with the fishing toy in my dreams. A child
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who, for some reason, knew that he owned the toy, stared at
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me with completely black and glassy eyes. But even though I was in the
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dream, trying to talk to him, I just didn' t get an
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answer from him. But the strangest thing started to happen when a kid started
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showing up at my house. The first time I saw him was reflected in
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my mirror. I was trying to make a toy work again. When,
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suddenly, I came to see something strange from the corner of my eye.
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I quickly turned around thinking that I could be my sister, but instead I
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could see that child was wet and with purple lips I turned to the place
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that reflected my mirror, but it was not there. But when I looked
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back in the mirror, I was still there. I stared at him for
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a few seconds totally on sop because of the incredible situation until he vanished at
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first. I thought it was just my imagination. After all, my parents
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kept telling me that my mind was not very well. But after seeing him
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several times I began to feel very scared. Sometimes the boy was in my
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room staring at my toy rack. I realized she always disappeared. Every time
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I looked straight at him. I began to realize that, in fact,
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what that child saw was that fishing toy and I started avoiding my room,
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but it didn' t matter where I was. I could feel the child
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watching from somewhere in the house. I started to be afraid of sleeping and
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being alone in my house, but I never told anyone about it, although
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after a few months when I had to accommodate my toys almost daily and not
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be able to sleep, I decided to arm myself up and tell Max.
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Okay. At first I only asked him where he bought the toy he had
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given me for my birthday. He replied that he bought it in a walking
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post in Tianguis, where they sold many things. So, I asked him
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if he could take me there and he asked me why, so I told
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him everything. I thought you wouldn' t believe me, but instead,
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you told me it must be a horrible thing and you told me that after
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school we' d go. However, the lady of the post was a
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little hostile to us when I started asking her a lot of questions about that
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toy. Specifically, she told us that she bought pore from used toys and
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obviously didn' t have the time to find out where each of them came
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from. We were left with the uncertainty where that toy came from. For
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a moment, the idea of throwing it away passed through my mind. However,
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on a TV show I had seen that friends could get sad and throw
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away their gifts, so I told Max that there was no problem, that
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I would see what to do a few days later Max came to spend the
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night at my house to play video games and eat pizza. We hadn'
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t had a sleepover in a while, so we were excited to spend the
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night together. When he arrived, the first thing he asked me was if
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I was feeling better already. I replied that I had started sleeping in the
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living room because of fear. He took the toy, stayed admiring it for
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a while and then put it back on the shelf. Then he told me
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that maybe I could go to sleep at his house. So I could get
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some rest. I said yes, maybe one day and we tried to forget
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about it that night. We spent all night playing and watching movies like that.
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At three in the morning we realized that we had fallen asleep in the
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living room. I woke up. First I turned off the TV and went
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for some blankets for Max and me, because I was getting a little cold.
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I opened the cabinet door to get them out. I bent over and
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pulled out what I needed and when I closed it, the boy was sitting
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behind the cabinet door. I threw a choked scream and he disappeared. I
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wanted to wake Max up, but the kid was already gone and for the
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time I' d been seeing him, usually, if I didn' t
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see him, it was only once a day, so I decided it was
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best to go back to the couch next to Maxi boll See to sleep.
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It took me a while, but I got it. When I woke up
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the next morning, Max was deep asleep on the couch next door, I
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assumed he had changed for comfort at some point in the night. I woke
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him up and we both went to the kitchen for breakfast. Everything seemed normal.
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Max and I spent the day playing video games. We wanted to make
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the most of it before his mother called him back home. But while we
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were playing, I noticed Max seemed a little uncomfortable. He scratched his neck
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from time to time and moved uncomfortablely in his seat. And that' s
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when I noticed. He had a small bite mark on his neck. It
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was very strange, because it was a very small bite, even to my
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younger sister' s jaw, which was the only girl in the house.
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He told me that by night night he had dreamed that a very strange child
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bit his neck. I asked him to describe it to me and Max described
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exactly the child I had been seeing. He also told me that after he
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bit him, he told him to leave, that he didn' t like
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him, and that he left him alone. But when Max opened his eyes,
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he couldn' t see anyone, but he thought maybe it was because
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he was asleep so close to me and that' s why he changed his
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couch. We decided that it was enough and that we had to get rid
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of that toy once and for all we threw it in the park or some
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public dump, but as much as we tried, it always came back.
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Also, we began to notice that bad things happened to us when we did
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that at first they were small things like bruises when we woke up or some
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scratch that didn' t represent such a serious problem. However, in every
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attempt to get rid of him, he seemed to climb further into the gravity
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of his reprisals. I would dare to say that the worst thing that that
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child did to us happened to me, because I remember the day we tried
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to throw it in my trash can just the moment the car happened, because
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we believed that in this way it would be compacted along with the rest of
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plastic and we could finally get rid of it. The plan seemed to work,
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as we were sure it was still in the bag when the car took
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it and besides that, we never saw it again all day. I remember
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that even the atmosphere in my room was the usual one again and for the
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first time in several days I was able to sleep peacefully in the comfort of
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my room. I even called Max to tell him before bed. During the
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morning I got up for a glass of water and everything seemed to be back
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to normal. However, by taking a few steps inside my room, I
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will be one of my fishing hooks. He buried himself right in the arch
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of my foot. I screamed as loudly as I could for the pain and
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fell to the floor. That' s when I realized that the ground was
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full of my fishing hooks, which I ended up burying in many parts of
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my body. But the worst thing was that when I fell I could see
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under my bed that fisher boy' s toy. That night they had to
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take me to the emergency hospital to heal my wounds. Dad was furious with
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me and told me that if I wasn' t going to be careful because
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they asked him for floors, I couldn' t tell him anything, but
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I knew the truth. That wasn' t my nature. I was particularly
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proud to have all my things and collections in order and in perfect condition.
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I always didn' t lose anything that belonged to me. I knew where
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I left everything and I wasn' t so careless to leave my hooks on
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the floor knowing I hated aps and used them only if absolutely necessary. As
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the days passed, we realized that things were getting worse. The toy seemed
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to have some sort of control over our lives and we couldn' t get
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rid of it every time we tried to get rid of the toy. Something
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strange happened and, for example, we once set off a huge fire in
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Max' s yard when his parents weren' t spraying the toy with gasoline
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and throwing it into the fire. However, when it seemed to work,
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the fire mysteriously went out. The next day. Of that, Max woke
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up with a new bite on his arm. But this time it had been
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so strong that the mark with the teeth was bleeding. We decided that we
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had to do something new and different from everything we had already proven about it.
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But we were caught up in a dilemma, as we didn' t
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want to tell anyone what was happening. For fear that my father would be
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so angry that he would send me to a clinic and max well, he
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didn' t want them to make fun of him. So, instead,
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we turned to the Internet for answers. After hours of searching, we found
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something that seemed to be some kind of clean that promised to help contain the
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cursed object. We wouldn' t get rid of him, but at least
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we could lock him in a box so he wouldn' t hurt us anymore.
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We didn' t know if it would work, but we were willing
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to try. We made sure to follow all the instructions carefully and, to
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our surprise, it seemed that the ritual had worked. After that, we
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never had problems with the toy again, or at least that' s what
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we thought in time. The damn object box was lost at the bottom of
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my closet and I completely forgot it until one day as an adult, I
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was about to move in with my best friend and my mother asked me to
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check some things in my old room to decide that I would keep and that
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they could throw away, as they wanted to turn my room into a playroom
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for my nephews. While I was cleaning my closet taking some things that I
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wanted to take to my new home, my nephew ran into the room and
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found the box of the cursed toy, without even thinking about it. He
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opened it and pulled out the excited toy asking me if I could keep it
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at that moment. A chill swept through my body and I felt that something
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was not right had been a mistake not to get rid of the box of
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the cursed object or was putting my nephew in danger. I had to make
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an important and quick decision. I took the toy out of his hands and
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told him never to touch it again. But my sister got mad at me
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for yelling at her son and I didn' t know what to say.
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I just left the room, feeling more and more restless about the presence of
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that toy. That night I woke up from a severe pain in my arm.
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I looked at it and saw that there was a bite mark, but
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this time we had to ask for help or the nightmare of when we were
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kids would happen again. I woke up my friend and we went together to
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a sainter who told us that the toy belonged to a boy named Alex who
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had died violently and that his soul could not rest in peace. He made
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us a clean one and gave us protective bracelets and necklaces and warned us that
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we should never take it off if we wanted to avoid meeting that child again.
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And since then I' ve followed those instructions to the letter. I
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' ve never seen the child again, but I always feel a strange presence
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around me when I think of that toy. It' s something I'
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ll never forget. After that experience, my friend and I became more cautious.
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With any object that entered our house. We made sure to investigate its
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origin and verify that it had no dark history behind us will always be better
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to prevent than to regret. We never wanted to experience anything as terrifying as
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what we live with Alex' s toy, so instead of taking risks,
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we prefer to stay away from unknown objects and always keep our protective bracelets and
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necklaces at hand. I' ve always wondered what the sainter did with that
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toy or why that child clung to this plane so much as to torment us
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for so long. However, I am happy to have thrown that thing away
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and I hope, for the well- being of all, that Saint Rono
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has succeeded in destroying it so that no one will ever again live the same
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way we live. Me and my friend Max. Story written and adapted by Lisa Hernández