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Los Secretos Oscuros Y Aterradores De La Morgue - Historias De Terror - Voces De La Noche · Niebla en el bosque con Evelith von

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My name is Alberto and what I come to tell you next is an event
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that made my life change forever. From a young age I was a skeptical
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person. It could even be said that something disrespectful about paranormal issues. My
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friends and acquaintances used to express how horrified they would feel if they had my
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work at the morgue. But for me, working in that place was any
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other job. I had had that job since I was eighteen and until that
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time it was the perfect job for me. However, he was twenty-
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six years old when everything changed. My work consisted of the usual functions of
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a morgue, receiving bodies, performing autopsies, documenting findings and preparing them for
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delivery to their loved ones. Like I said, it was a quiet job,
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as long as it didn' t bother you to work with corpses.
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That day, a new body came to the morgue victim of a horrible fateful
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accident by two Pitbull dogs. His face was unrecognizable, with no nose or
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lower lip. Despite the crudeness of the body. That was not the most
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striking thing, but it had the body completely full of tattoos related to Satanism.
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To my colleagues in turn, that made them very nervous, which is
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why I proposed to do the job on my own, thus trying to feel
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braver than all of them. My colleagues accepted and once they left me,
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I just stared at the body. For a while before the process begins.
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I don' t remember exactly what step I was doing when something caught my
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attention. A slight whining barely audible resounded in the room. I turned my
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head to the sides looking for the sound source, but only in between the
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empty room. I decided to ignore the sound and continue my tasks, but
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the whining persisted. But this time I noticed that the blanket that covered the
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body had fallen to the ground. Intrigued I approached to cover the body again.
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But while I was doing it, I saw something that left me breathless.
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The body' s eyes opened and stared directly at me. The horror
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swept me from head to toe and an involuntary scream escaped from my lips.
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One of my companions alerted by my cry, ran into the room, but
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when the corpse arrived, lay again with his eyes closed, as if nothing
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had happened, I tried to explain that I thought I had seen a rat,
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an absurd excuse that I did not believe myself. However, and for
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my fortune, my partner did not try to inquire much about it. The
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following days passed normally. Appearance. I tried to forget the incident by convincing
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myself that it had been the product of my imagination. I also thought about
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my long shift and had even spent hours on Internet forums investigating all kinds of
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things that a postmortem body could do. That was my way of dealing with
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that strange event. It wasn' t long before the routine broke again while
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performing the autopsy to a body, I heard the same complaint. My heart
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accelerated, but this time I resisted the temptation to turn my head and chose
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to continue my work, ignoring the feeling that something was watching me. That
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decision seemed to be yielding results. However, in an instant I could hear
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someone or something screaming directly into my ear. That made me even fall off
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the chair and being on the floor, I realized that I was completely alone.
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I remember one night in particular, while I was alone, the temperature
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of the dis ms room abruptly fled. I could even see my breath in
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the air. I felt as if I was being watched from all directions trying
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to calm down I closed my eyes and started counting from one to ten when
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I opened them all the drawers of love that were open. The bodies rested
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on their trays, but they all had their heads turned in my direction,
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their lifeless eyes looked at me with a disconcerting intensity. I wanted to run
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to the exit, but the door was locked. Then a chilling laugh rang
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in the room and the lights flashed before they went out completely. In the
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darkness I could see shadows moving and laughter began to become more intense and the
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figures of the bodies rose from the tables. They surrounded me slowly advancing as
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the laughter intensified. Desperate I screamed for help, but my voice was lost
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in the room, plunged into darkness and surrounded by laughter and whispers. Suddenly
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I felt a pressure on my shoulder as if someone hadn' t taken it
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with a firm grip. My heart beat hard and my survival instinct took desperate
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control. I tried to pull the hand that held me away, but my
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hands found only the cold, dense air suddenly. Among all that noise,
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I heard a voice, it was the voice of one of my co-
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workers, begging me to calm my words as soon as they escaped from my
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lips. While trying to explain what happened the fear experienced barely allowed me to
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articulate coherent phrases. That' s when I noticed the lights were back,
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the room was lit and the temperature was back to normal. I looked around
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still trembling from experience and realized that everything seemed normal. The drawers were closed
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and the bodies rested on their trays and there was no trace of what had
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just happened. It was as if I had never witnessed the nightmare I had
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just lived in. My companions looked at me with concern and skepticism, unable
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to understand the madness I had just experienced. As I tried to find answers,
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my companions persuaded me to go home and rest that night in the solitude
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of my home, I could not turn away from my mind the horror I
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had experienced in the morgue all that happened. It made me think maybe I
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was going crazy. I went over every detail of what happened trying to find
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some logic in the nightmare I had lived through. That' s when I
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remembered the man with the disfigured face and satanic tattoos. That corpse I had
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seen open my eyes seemed absurd to blame a corpse, but I could not
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find any other factor either, for I refused to think that I was really
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going crazy. The transus days ran between confusion and fear, which took over
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my life. After that event in the morgue I tried to lead my life
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as normal as possible and although I always felt watched there were some nights that
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were accompanied by nightmares. After a few nights, extraordinary events seemed to have
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stopped. Things took a normal restlessness. With the passing of days, I
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tried to resume my routine, focus on work and drown my thoughts in daily
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routine. In spite of everything, I became cautious and avoided being alone,
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as much as possible, but like all attempts to control my environment. This
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measure turned out to be temporary. That day, in particular, had been
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exhausting. The work accumulated until the end of the day and I was on
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the verge of exhaustion when fatigue weighed on me. I had avoided being alone
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at all costs. But at that moment I had no choice, as the
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others had retired or started to do their work leaving me alone. So I
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tried to keep my mind occupied with day- to- day chores and paperwork,
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no matter what I did. The tension in the air was overwhelming,
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as I plunged into the monotony of documentation I began to feel the familiar feeling
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of being observed again a chill swept through my whole body, but I tried
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to ignore it by attributing it to my own paranoia. That' s when
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I heard a sound more than the usual whispers. This was a slight tinkling
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of metal hitting the ground. I tried to rule it out as a product
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of my tiredness, but the persistence of sound forced me to pay careful attention.
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I turned my head toward the direction of the noise. To my horror.
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Behind me was one of the corpses. He had been involved in a
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motorcycle accident and his face was visibly scraped and disfigured. The blanket that covered
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it was lying on the floor. His lifeless eyes looked at me with malice
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and a diabolical smile formed on his torn lips. A chill swept through my
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paralyzed body My mind struggled to understand what I saw while my heart was pounding
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in my chest. Then the corpse began to laugh a dreadful laugh that resonated
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in the morgue. My legs were shaking as I tried to retreat, but
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I felt trapped in an unsettling dream and the laughter of the corpse intensified.
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Filling the room with a tense atmosphere in an act of despair. I closed
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my eyes hard, begging for this nightmare to come to an end. When
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I finally gathered the courage to open my eyes, the room was silent.
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The body had returned to its place and the love that seemed to be back
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in its apparent normality, the following nights were worse than ever. The laughter
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of the corpse mingled with the nightmares that attacked me in the dark, despite
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the intensity of the fear of making a fool of myself. I shared my
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experience with some of my companions, but their faces reflected disbelief and concern.
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The morgue for them remained only a place of work without shadows and without unwanted
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presences. Every day that passed I felt my sanity slowly torn apart. The
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line between reality and fantasy disappeared more and more. My nights turned into a
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succession of torments. Sometimes I was in the morgue surrounded by laughter and whispers
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and others. I could see some bodies turning their heads to see me when
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I pretended not to look, I saw myself in a spiral of despair and
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the only way to find something like peace was through sleeping pills. However,
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even these were just a temporary truce. That night, after taking the pills,
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I sank into a deep sleep. But unlike the previous nights, this
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time the nightmare that enveloped me was much worse. I was in the morgue,
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but this time I had no control over my actions. I was walking
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towards the autopsy table automatically, as if something were leading me to it on
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the table lying one of the bodies covered by the blanket and unable to avoid
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it, I removed the blanket and found myself face to face with the man
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who had started my nightmare. His empty eyes looked at me and, despite
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his shattered lips, he seemed to try to smile further worsening his wounds in
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the process. Suddenly, the nightmare took an even more terrifying turn. The
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man stood up, stretched out a bloody hand to me with a penetrating laugh.
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He took me by the arm with a supernatural force. Although I knew
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that urs was dreaming, the feeling of his grip oppressed me and I could
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not wake up from that surreal nightmare. The laughter kept ringing in my ears
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as the man dragged me through the morgue. The bodies of my companions became
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inert, their eyes were open, watching me with an expression of absolute terror
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and some of them seemed to try to speak to me, but from their
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lips they were only understood to babble. I finally managed to wake up with
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a shock in my room. He was silent alone, but the feeling of
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oppression remained in the air. I was fed up with all that exhausted,
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both physically and emotionally I knew I needed to find answers, although I had
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no idea where to start. I got up and headed to the kitchen looking
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for some water to calm my nerves. At a slow pace, I tried
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to calm my agitated breath. The fear was still clinging to me as if
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the shadows of the nightmare were still lurking. In reality. When I got
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to the kitchen, I filled a glass with water and took it to my
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lips. However, when looking at the reflection on the glass of the kitchen
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door. Surprise and horror took over me. In the reflection was a man
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with a disfigured face, with a look of horror and a demonic smile.
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He seemed to be watching me with the same terrifying intensity as in the nightmare.
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I released the glass with water that crashed into the ground, generating a
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rumble in the room. I turned quickly, but there was no one behind
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me, because the kitchen was empty. The feeling of being observed did not
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abandon me, as if that man with a disfigured face continued to stalk me,
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only that I could not see him more terrified. I went back to
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my room and locked the door. My hands were shaking as I tried to
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process what had just happened. Those things now were not only in my nightmares
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and in the morgue, they were now in my home. One afternoon,
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the morgue received the tragic report of a car accident involving a couple of children.
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Their bodies reached the morgue and the news of their death filled the atmosphere.
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With regret though my heart shrunk in the face of the tragedy, duty
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demanded that I carry out my work with professionalism, so, trying to put
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my fears and thoughts aside, I set out to do my job. I
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began the work with the professionalism it required, but the heaviness of the environment
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and the sadness emanating from the small bodies seemed to infiltrate my soul. While
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performing the procedures, I could not help but feel that I was not alone
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in the room. The sense of being observed intensified and a presence filled the
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room. I closed my eyes for a moment trying to push away all those
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thoughts, but when I opened them I found a vision that would drive anyone
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crazy. The bodies of the children were standing by the autopsy table, looking
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at me with eyes that reflected sadness and bewilderment. My legs were shaking and
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a cold sensation swept through my spine. I tried to talk, but the
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words got stuck in my throat. Then one of the children reached out to
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me as if seeking comfort. Despite the internal struggle between horror and compassion,
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I could not help but go back over the overwhelming supernatural presence. The temperature
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of the room dropped sharply and a demonic laughter was added to the whispers.
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As I watched impotently the bodies of the children faded into darkness. Distressed by
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the supernatural experiences that had marked my life in the morgue, I decided to
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take a radical step and give up my work. The morgue had already taken
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too much from me and the hope of finding peace seemed to drift away with
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every passing day. However, I discovered that the nightmare that was being pursued
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did not stop with the resignation. The nights continued to be tormented by disturbing
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dreams. The bodies of the deceased manifested themselves in my dreams preventing me from
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finding a good rest. The sleeping pills. They stopped being an option,
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because if I took them, I ran the risk that the nightmare would catch
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me even when I wanted to wake up awake. Things weren' t much
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better. The figures of the deceased materialized in the darkest corners of my home,
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as well as in the reflections. I no longer needed to be in
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the morgue to feel his presence. They seemed to have taken root in my
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life in a permanent way. Desperate to free myself from that torment, I
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decided to move believing that a change of environment would be the solution to all
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my problems. At first, that seemed to work. The nights became quieter
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and the feeling of being observed decreased. And what was more surprising to me
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was that nightmares were becoming less and less recurrent. However, it was not
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long before those beings found their way to my new home. The moving cycle
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became a routine which, despite believing that it would be a unique event,
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every time I tried to settle in a new place, the bodies of the
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beyond emerged from the shadows to remind me that there was no escape. The
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reason behind this persecution was an enigma. I didn' t know why those
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spirits were clinging to me, but their unwanted presence became a burden I carried
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in my life. Each move was followed by a brief calm, which sooner
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or later returned to chaotic normality. The lack of stability began to affect all
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aspects of my existence. Interpersonal relationships became ephemeral, as proximity to others only
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attracted the presence of the deceased. The daily routine became a constant challenge as
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it dealt with the persistent images of bodies in the least expected places. Over
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the years, I have become an involuntary nomad, like a hermit, unable
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to find a permanent refuge. Every new city, every new home is just
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a brief respite before the nightmare is revived. I live with the uncertainty of
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not knowing if one day they will cease and the reason why I was chosen
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as their prey remains an unsolved mystery. Today, I continue my search for
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answers as I drag my existence. The death that and its secrets left an
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indelible mark in my life and although I have tried the presence of disfigured bodies,
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persists remembering that no matter how hard I try. Life, as I
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' ve ever known it, will be the same anonymous story again.