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Por Su Culpa Perdí A Mi Hijo Historias De Terror - Voces De La Noche · Niebla en el bosque con Evelith von

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I grew up in a nice little rural village, which, despite not having
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the same access to all the comforts of the great city, I never felt
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or felt unfortunate about the place where I was born. I' m sure
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my childhood was much happier without all the stress and dangers of the city.
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However, when I turned fifteen, it was time to move on to the
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next phase of my student life. My mother died giving birth to me and
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my father always wanted me to have every opportunity he thought my mother wanted.
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For me, that was attending high school and then college, even if he
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was away from the village, so even without knowing the city he investigated the
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student rooms in the safest neighborhoods and enrolled me in high school and he went
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back to town. He told me that as long as I wanted to continue
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studying, that I didn' t care how he got the money to pay
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for my studies, he never broke that promise. I was never afraid.
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I knew if I ever had problems, I' d just have to call
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my dad and he' d come after me. I managed to finish a
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career in architecture and got a very good job in the city. So returning
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to the village, if it wasn' t for a visit day by day,
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looked more like an impossibility, so I resigned myself and went on with
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my life. A couple of years later I met the perfect man. You
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could say that I fell in love with him at the very moment when I
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saw him and for my luck, that love was mutual. However, there
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was a problem. His mother and sister hated me. I' m not
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just saying, from the first moment he took me to meet them, I
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knew they didn' t like him. It seemed that my then boyfriend'
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s father had died, when both he and his sister were very young and
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his mother had told him that he was the man of the house and apparently
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believed that I was coming to take them off or something like that. I
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didn' t really care that much. After all, I really loved my
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boyfriend, My dad approved it and because I had a department of my own,
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so I didn' t see myself in the need to go visit her
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never just two years later, my boyfriend proposed to me and we both got
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married. Neither his mother nor his sister set foot in the church, much
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less at the party. Honestly, for me, they couldn' t have
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given me a better wedding present. You could say that our marriage, as
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long as my husband' s mother and sister were not present, was pretty
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good. We both had a very good job that allowed us to help our
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respective families. At least in my view, we were both still as much
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in love as when we started our engagement. On one occasion, my husband
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had the wonderful idea of spending Christmas at his mother' s house, for
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there was a lot of family on his side, while mine alone was my
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father at first did not want to, but to tell the truth, my
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husband was always cancelling his mother just to avoid conflicts between her and me,
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so he ended up exceeding with the only condition that he would also bring my
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father. At first, the celebration seemed to march in a rather cordial way.
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It even seemed that this lady had liked my father, for he was
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giving him the talk and trying to include him in the conversations. However,
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my dad didn' t seem comfortable with her. I assumed it was because
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I had previously told him how he had treated me in the past. My
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dad was kind of a bear dad who hated everyone who messed with his kids,
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so I decided not to give it any more importance. But when the
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holidays ended and it was time for Dad to return to town, he told
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me that that woman and her daughter had the darkest aura he' d ever
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seen. To tell you the truth, I didn' t know how to
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take it, because Dad always said that with people he didn' t like
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and he didn' t want me to approach. I told her that lady
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was very strange and bitter, but I didn' t think she could do
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anything wrong. My husband always said that his mother could be a little secretive,
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but that she was someone completely harmless and, for the sake of our
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marriage, I didn' t believe. The situation got worse when we organized
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a meal to announce that we were expecting a baby. She and her daughter
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went crazy and started breaking a lot of things out of my house and even
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coming out broke a window. They said no grandchild of her could have my
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blood. I also ended up a little upset that afternoon and told my husband
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that I didn' t want to see his mother or sister back at my
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house again. And even though my husband always tried to defend his mother and
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sister, at that time he completely agreed with me. I knew they had
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gone too far and realized that I never wanted to see them again. He
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also promised to go talk to them to tell them how he felt, but
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to tell them the truth I have never been sure if he really did or
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just left things the way they were. It hurts me to admit it,
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but my husband often avoided conflict. That' s how it went for about
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a month. That day I met him with some discomfort and, as I
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was very paranoid because that was my first pregnancy, I decided to ask for
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permission at work. I spent the day at home until today. I have
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no idea how that woman knew I was home, as she arrived around noon.
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At first, when I looked out the window and saw who the truth
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was, I thought I wouldn' t open it I assumed that I could
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pretend there was no one at home anyway. However, she screamed I brought
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you something to make you feel better. I don' t know why I
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did it. If I could return time knowing what it is now, I
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would certainly not open it, but my self of that time was too naive
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to open the door to him. I will not lie to them my face
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was not friendly, it was only hostility, because I had not forgiven her
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and I wanted that to be clear. However, she came into the house
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being kind, pretending not to notice my angry face, as if we were
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best friends. She brought with her a blanket bag, with a small pot
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of pelter inside she went into the kitchen and before they could tell her anything,
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she pulled the pot out of the bag and opened it and I don
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' t know why. But I felt like I had the most delicious food
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in front of me. I' ve never heard of anything so rich.
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The strangest thing about all of that was that what was inside that pot was
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nothing but pozole and I' ve never really been a fan of that particular
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food. I don' t dislike it, but I can eat something else.
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Instead. I do. At that time, however, there was nothing
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I wanted more than to eat a plate of that pozole. Besides, she
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seemed to have a completely different attitude than she had had since the minute one
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we met, so I decided to listen to what she had to say to
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me. He told me that he was sorry and that maybe we could try
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to get along better at the same time that he would serve me a dish
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and bring it to me so that I could eat it. I asked her
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if she didn' t want to eat, but she told me she prepared
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enough and she had already eaten a lot at her house, so at that
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time she didn' t want to. He just stood there watching me eat
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wondering if we had already thought of a name, if I preferred it to
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be a boy or a girl, and that kind of thing the truth had
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never tasted for richer sole. In fact, I couldn' t stop until
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that little pot of Peltre was completely empty and when I told her I was
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sorry I didn' t leave anything to her son, she just replied that
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that was for me and not for him. And after that, only the
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truth went away. After that visit, I really thought our relationship was gonna
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get better from there on. I even told my husband, who was still
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somewhat missed by his mother' s sudden change, was happy for me and
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for her. That night I woke up from a horrible and persistent pain in
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my belly, which made me scream out of the pain. My husband got
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up worried, I was bleeding and he took me to the hospital right away
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where they gave me the worst news a mother could get. I' d
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lost my baby. They couldn' t explain it, but I had a
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hemorrhage so strong that it almost ended my life too, but somehow even more
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unexpected. My body was able to resist long enough to stabilize and receive a
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blood transfusion. When I was awake, the truth felt like the most miserable
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woman in the universe. I didn' t mind seeing about revived if my
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baby hadn' t made it. However, after that week I decided that
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life should continue, so, although I still felt terrible, I got up,
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took a shower and decided to force myself to eat a real breakfast,
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so I started to prepare something with the ingredients that were in the house,
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because I still did not have the strength to leave, so I ended up
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frying some games with some sausages from the refrigerator. Every time I think about
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it, I think I didn' t get the smell of food, but
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I guess because of my condition I didn' t take it the importance it
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deserved. When I finished preparing my breakfast I served it on a plate and
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sat on the table. That' s where I looked at the plate for
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a few seconds until I told myself I had to start eating. So I
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took a big spoonful and without thinking twice I shoved it into my mouth.
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I ate it all tasted to the ground. Literally, it was like I
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put a handful of dirt in my mouth. Even the texture felt that way.
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It gave me so much repulsion that I spit it in the kitchen sink.
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I didn' t know what was going on. I tried to eat
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other things, but everything except water. He knew me this way. When
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my husband arrived, I told him what was happening to me and he accompanied
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me to a doctor’ s office. However, the doctor told me that
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there was nothing wrong with my taste buds and that perhaps this was the result
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of the traumatic events that had occurred to me recently I returned home. I
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couldn' t believe my mind was playing me so horrible past. However,
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the next morning my hair began to fall. It wasn' t a formal
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fall, literally, strands of my head were coming off leaving bald areas.
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As the days passed, I began to feel very weak as I tried to
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leave the house to the point that taking a step was a great feat and
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I could not eat anything that I did not know or felt like sand.
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Even though I wanted to force myself to swallow it, I ended up throwing
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it up. It was as if my body rejected anything that wasn' t
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liquid. I tried to take therapy online, but it didn' t work.
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It should be noted that during this time my husband’ s mother went
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to our house to see how she was doing and even helped by making food
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for her son and ordering the house. I remember at that time I was
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very grateful for everything I was doing for us. As the days passed,
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the doctors couldn' t find out what the problem was, although everyone could
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see how badly I had lost so much weight that I couldn' t walk
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on my own. In fact, I could only be skinned for a few
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minutes on my own, so they took me to the doctor in a wheelchair
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one morning, while my husband helped me bathe two of my teeth, something
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in me told me that I didn' t have much time left to live
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for that point. I was resigned and as strange as it may seem,
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I hadn' t connected Pozole Day to all this. I called my dad
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and told him I' d like to say goodbye to him. And all
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that I told her that I didn' t want her to come, because
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I was sure that he would collapse when he saw his daughter, being a
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dispossession of what at some point was a woman made full of goals and hopes.
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However, Dad did not just listen to my request, but arrived the
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next day with a friend of his. He was a shaman who, in
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his own words, had dreamed that someone had done something to me. He
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asked me if anyone who thought he didn' t like me could' ve
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given me something to eat or something. My first answer was no, but
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I almost immediately remembered that it was the last thing I had eaten, but
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my husband said that was not possible. So my dad' s friend made
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me a clean one that lasted several hours. He passed an egg all over
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my body and when he opened it, it was absolutely black inside. It
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was so heavy for me that for a moment I thought I wouldn' t
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make it out alive. Also as the hours passed, my dad' s
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friend seemed much more tired and even his arms trembled, but he told me
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he couldn' t stop, because what they had done to me was so
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strong that he calculated that I had hours left to live and probably couldn'
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t stand it. One more night it was already too dark when he told
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me he couldn' t see exactly who he was. But the only way
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for me to get out alive from that was by making whoever was responsible get
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back all the evil he wanted for me. My husband, thinking firmly that
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it could not be about his mother, said to do anything, for if
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the person had not had compassion for me, we would not have it for
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her. My dad' s friend told me to lie down in bed and
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then he gave me something to drink, and that something made me throw up
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almost immediately and he put a bucket so I wouldn' t splash the whole
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floor. My eyes couldn' t believe what they were seeing. It was
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a lot of hair, but it seemed to be soaked in blood with a
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lot of clots. The smell was the worst. I can only describe it
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as smelling of death and despair, and that vomit was not limited to hair.
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I started throwing up something like human nails and insects. Perhaps this I
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am going to say is not entirely true and it was only something that I,
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exhausted mind, imagined for everything that was going on, but I can
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swear that I remember some of those insects still moving in the bucket as if
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they were trying to get out of it. Finally, my dad' s
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friend put some plants in my mouth and ordered me to chew them for the
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first time In weeks I felt another taste in my mouth that was not earth.
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It wasn' t a nice taste, it was like chewing falfa,
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but at that time, at least for me, it was the best taste
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in the world. I swallowed the herbs, like he told me, and
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fell asleep. I woke up the next morning and the room was spotless as
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if the night before hadn' t happened, almost like it was a miracle.
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I felt very well, I was hungry and still looked like a walking
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skeleton, but I had the strength to climb myself into the wheelchair and move
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to the living room, where my husband, my dad and his friend were
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asleep. They looked very tired. I didn' t have the strength to
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make breakfast for everyone. I just went to the kitchen and served myself a
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plate of cereal, which knew exactly what I should know. On it.
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They woke up shortly afterwards and my husband and dad couldn' t help but
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cry of happiness. Seeing my notorious improvement, my husband immediately picked up his
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phone and called his mother to tell her the good news. However, the
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one who answered him was his sister. In a way I couldn' t
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or rather I didn' t want to explain. Turns out his mom was
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dead. While I was sleeping, my husband wept a lot, but he
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understood who had been the cause of what had happened to me. Her sister
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became ill shortly afterwards. I' m not 100% aware of all the
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details, but I know it' s a chronic thing that can throw her
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in bed for weeks. Doctors can' t find exactly what it' s
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about. In the meantime, my husband and I cut off all relationships with
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her after her mother' s funeral. I really don' t think he
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can forgive her yet. I guess he never imagined that either one of us
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would be capable of something like that. It took me several months to fully
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recover and today I enjoy excellent health. As time goes by, I had
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a baby who just turned one year old, but I will always remember my
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experience as proof of what exists in this world, which cannot be explained,
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but it can hurt you a lot. Story written and adapted by Lisa Hernández