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El Departamento MALDITO numero 55 - Historias De Terror - Voces De La Noche · Niebla en el bosque con Evelith von

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When I was a kid, my brother, my mom and I were constantly
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moving. My mom was an excellent mother. He always made us see the
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glass half full and told us that moving was not so bad and made us
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look like we were explorers. And even as a child, it worked as
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an adult. I can know that my mother, being a single mom and
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having two jobs, could hardly keep the rent for a long time, so
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that' s why we moved every time I heard about a cheaper place or
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when I just couldn' t pay that rent anymore. I remember that was
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the reason why, when my mother told us that she had found a new
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and better place to live, both my brother and I, at that time
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I was nine years old and the seven were very excited and we told her
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that we already wanted to meet her to tell this story. I asked my
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mom how she found that place and she told me she had gotten a friend
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' s contact from her job. She told him that her brother' s
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girlfriend had told him that the building had lowered the price of that place to
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a ridiculously cheap rent. Considering it was a place with two bedrooms, living
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room and kitchen. My mom told me she doesn' t remember how much
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she paid anymore, but if she remembers that she was too good to let
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it go. Also, that was a very good thing for everyone, because
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before that, my brother and I slept in the same room with Mom and
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the idea of having something just ours was wonderful. However, I remember when
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we arrived in front of the apartment door, I felt a chill running around
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my back. It was as if the air had become denser and the atmosphere
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had cooled instantly. I don' t know if to say where this is.
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I guess it won' t matter if I say it' s somewhere
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in Tacubaya, Mexico City. As far as I can remember, the apartment
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door was metallic grey and had an old, rusty plate showing the number fifty
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- five, although we not only knew that we were in department number seven,
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but that there were not even fifty- five apartments in that building.
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The landlord explained to us that an old man had lived there years ago and
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had put the badge without permission. They tried to remove it, but it
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seemed melted with the door and it did not seem that they could remove it
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without taking a piece of the door in the attempt, so eventually they had
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decided to leave it there, but that we should not worry about anything.
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As we entered the apartment, we found an unexpected panorama, smelled awaited and
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the interior was full of abandoned objects, furniture, old, worn pictures,
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among many other things like statuettes and other things that I don' t remember
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well, were not frightening. It was just weird. We were used to
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getting to almost empty places. The landlord told us that he had had troubled
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tenants in the past, that, after not paying rent for months, they
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simply left behind their belongings to think they hadn' t left at all and
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that they would pay him back He told my mother that he was free to
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use what he needed. My brother and I exchanged intrigued looks while my mother
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accepted the landlord' s offer. Although the idea of taking advantage of abandoned
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objects sounded tempting, something in the atmosphere of the department filled me with restlessness
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and a feeling that something was not right. The first few days in the
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department passed with an apparent normality. Honestly, we were already so desensitized to
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new places that creaked or some other sound during the early days was just part
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of the experience, so when we heard them there, we didn' t
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give them any importance. I wish we had. I' ve always believed
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that if we and my mom had thought that place was rough and with sounds
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in the night that looked like footprints, we' d probably have left and
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I wasn' t telling this. As time progressed, we gradually adapted to
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the routine in Tacubaya. My mother would get up early to go to work,
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wake us up and get ready to go to school with her. We
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were very early. I remember sometimes before they opened the school, although we
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had to wait a few minutes before they opened it. One day, however,
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this new routine broke in that morning I felt unusually ill I woke up
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with some fever and a little runny nose. It wasn' t serious enough
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to take the day at work or take me to the doctor, but it
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was to decide that it was better for me to stay home with my brother
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and mother. Outside the house I was alone in the apartment. Sitting on
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the couch, I was trying to distract myself by watching TV because I couldn
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' t sleep, because it wasn' t long before I had a pill,
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as my mother had indicated. While I was having a tea my mom
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had left without warning. The screen suddenly went out. My first reaction was
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to think that electricity had been cut off, something common in our life at
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the time. However, when I get up to go to the light switch
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and turn it on. The room lit up right away. I just shrugged
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on my shoulders assuming that the electricity had come back just the moment I got
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up. I went back to the couch and turned on the TV, although
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it was a strange thing, since when I turned it on it was on
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the news channel and I was sure that was not what I was watching.
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Still, I didn' t care and changed the channel. However, minutes
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later, the screen turned off again. This time a chill ran through my
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back, but I was still trying to stay calm. I was just about
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to get up to check the light again. When the TV turned on again
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I shrugged back and continued to watch TV. I think about ten or maybe
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fifteen minutes passed, when the channels began to change quickly. As if someone
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were frantically pressing the remote control buttons, the volume increased by filling the room
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with a deafening noise. That was impossible since I had control in my hand
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and I was absolutely sure that I was not pressing anything. I tried to
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press the switch off to try to regain the TV controller, but no matter
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how much I pressed the control. I was not desperate to stop that horrible
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situation, I got up and disconnected the TV cable. However, instead of
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the television turning off as usual, it began to play that static noise that
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sounds when there is no signal from the channels with some curiosity and, above
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all, fear. I looked back at the TV and the static began to
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take shape as if a face was emerging from the depths of visual noise.
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The figure was blurred, but recognizable. A woman with sunken eyes and a
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twisted smile that seemed to transcend the screen. My heart was pounding and fear
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was paralyzing me as I watched the image solidify as if someone or something was
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trying to get through the television. The panic seized me and ran into my
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room, closing the door behind me. My hands were shaking as I sought
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refuge in my bed trying to understand what I had just witnessed. It was
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hours before I heard the front door open and my mother' s voice waving
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was about to tell him what had happened to me. But even at that
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young age, I knew that my mom already had too many problems to deal
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with something I thought I had seen. So I decided to keep quiet at
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the time, at the same time that I was trying to self- convince
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myself that what I had seen was only about my imagination. However, something
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happened that afternoon that made me confirm that something was very wrong in that department.
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My mother, worried about my state of health, made me a chicken
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soup. However, I still felt sick enough for my feeling of hunger to
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disappear almost entirely. I explained I couldn' t eat. My mom never
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used blackmail or threats to force us to eat. He always said we'
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d get hungry sometime and then we' d eat. Although that day,
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worried about my health, I was encouraged to drink at least a few vegetables
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from the broth, while my mother was retiring to rest before having to go
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back to her second job, I was left alone on the table, took
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the fork and started pecking at the carrots, trying to make it look like
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at least I tried to bite some while my mind was mired in thoughts about
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what had happened to me that morning. Every noise was ringing in my ears
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and I was getting a little scared again, when, suddenly, through the
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corner of my eye I saw a tall, dark figure fast as lightning had
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gone through the back of the kitchen door. My heart was beating in my
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chest as I tried in vain to discern what I had seen. Maybe she
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was my mother. I thought I was trying to find a logical explanation,
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but when I looked back at the table, I faced something even more frightening.
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Under the table, my mother was crawling. His eyes stared at me
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with an intensity that frozen my blood. A chill swept through my body and
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fear clinged to me. My mother' s face was contorted. His expression
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was a mixture of anger and something darker, something he could not understand.
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Not only was it not normal behavior in her, but she hadn' t
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even seen her come in. Yeah. I don' t want to eat
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babble My words were barely audible. My mother or whatever was in front of
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me didn' t seem to listen to me without knowing exactly what to do.
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I said it again with a little more security, but before I even
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finished talking she answered me, but there was something different about her. I
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don' t know how to explain it, because even though it sounded almost
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the same, I could assure that it wasn' t his voice. It
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was as if someone very good at imitating him was doing it. I don
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' t care. You' re not going to get up until you swallow
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everything He told me in a threatening way a penetrating fear. He walked my
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back stopping my person in my place. I saw him crawling away really.
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That was the most surreal experience I' ve ever had in my life.
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I heard the door slammed in my mother' s room, so I figured
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I was back in it, but still. I was so scared that I
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ate all the broth on my plate and went to my room. My thoughts
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became a whirlwind. As I tried to understand what my mother had just witnessed,
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that figure who had cared for me and protected me all my life,
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had become something terrifying, something I could not explain or understand. The days
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passed with a disturbing normality. However, my mother’ s behavior, while
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sleeping, began to get too strange and disturbing. During the early hours of
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the morning, his footsteps resounded in the apartment. It was as if he
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were marching or on other occasions, it was as if he was running everywhere,
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followed by the unmistakable noise of his body, violently hitting the furniture and
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walls. Every morning his bruises were evidence of what he was doing every night,
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but he sincerely stated that he had no idea how he had been hurt.
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Finally, my brother and I decided that we should tell him what we
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heard almost every night, so we did. At first he looked at us
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with skepticism, but in view of the persistence of our narrative and the impossibility
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of finding an alternative explanation, he finally accepted the possibility that something unusual was
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happening. Her answer was simple, attributing her actions to sleepwalking and assured us
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that we should not worry if we listened to her wandering around the house during
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the night. We just had to do what we had done until then and
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stay in our room. However, even with this explanation, the restlessness did
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not really disappear. Every night it felt like hell in our own house.
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As children, we could not fully understand in sleepwalking and we could not help
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but be afraid. One night in particular, the tranquility was shattered by a
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desperate blow and frantic scrapes at the door of our room and my mother'
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s voice ordered us to open it, but there was something in her tone
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that filled us with fear. My brother, without stopping to think, got
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up and opened the door and there she was. His figure illuminated by the
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pale moonlight. His face had something strange, though it was hard to see.
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He just stood in the door frame for a few seconds, but before
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we could react, his hands scratched my brother' s face, leaving deep
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red furrows on his skin. An outburst of sick laughter escaped his lips,
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a sound that made our hearts stop in our breasts. Fear paralyzed us for
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a moment, but my brother acted quickly, closing the door in one blow
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before my mother could move further forward. The room was plunged into tense silence,
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only interrupted by my brother' s agitated breathing and my own rapid heartbeat.
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They spent hours with my mother' s deranged figure, knocking and scratching
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the door, unintelligible whispers and sinister laughter filling the air. My brother had
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his face covered in scratches and terror had left its mark on both of them.
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We couldn' t get back to sleep that night. I even tried
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to cure my brother, but since we couldn' t get out, I
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couldn' t do much. Finally, when the sun began to rise,
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the blows and whispers ceased, We looked through the crack of the door only
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to find our mother kneeling in the hallway. She was very frightened, since
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she had dry blood on her fingers, but she had no injuries and we
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told her what had happened, and she didn' t get tired of apologizing.
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He told us that from now on we should lock the door of our
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room at night. The nights turned into endless torment, with my mother'
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s screams and blows resounding through the walls of the department demanding that we let
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her in. He terrified us every night. Although we knew that their struggle
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was the result of sleepwalking, our relationship began to crack under the constant pressure
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of this nightmare. However, a ray of hope broke through the darkness when
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my mother started dating a kind and understanding man. His presence brought temporary relief
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and a sense of normality to our lives. My mother' s boyfriend was
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a reassuring figure and quickly earned our affection with his kind and attentive behavior.
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But even his presence couldn' t protect us from the darkness that persisted on
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the first night he spent in the apartment. His presence triggered a series of
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events that plunged us even further into the abyss of restlessness. An urgent knock
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on the door of our room got us out of our dreams and my mother
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' s boyfriend was there his voice full of concern. While he was asking
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us to open him up. Without hesitation, my brother opened the door and
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my mother' s boyfriend rushed in closing the door. Behind him. She
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explained that my mother had confessed to her sleepwalking, but it was more alarming
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than I had imagined. As he spoke to us, his voice was tinged
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with urgency and I could see the concern in his eyes. The next morning
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he talked to my mom and, as far as I knew, it was
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with a specialist to try to control it, although there was no improvement in
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spending the week no matter what I tried, so I remember one day,
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while my mom was cooking and we were at the kitchen table doing our homework,
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when my mom' s boyfriend came in and said he had been investigating
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a hypnosis special that had succeeded in similar cases and proposed to take my mother
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to see him. It was then that a change in the environment became palpable,
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the air cooled and became dense as if the darkness itself had materialized around
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us. My mother turned her back on us while cooking, uttering words that
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were both frightening and disconcerting. His voice seemed to be his, but there
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was a dark and menacing tone. My mother' s boyfriend asked us to
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leave the kitchen and at that moment my mother turned to him with a dagger
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in her hand and threw words that could not be hers. It was as
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if a dark force had taken control of his body and mind and his gaze
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was full of malice. Quickly, my mother' s boyfriend told us that
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we had to get out of there to stay safe We laughed at our minds
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full of confusion and fear, but also with a determination to stick together.
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We left the apartment, escaping that nightmare that had taken over our home.
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The moment my mother walked through the apartment door, her appearance and behavior changed
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dramatically. The darkness seemed to leave her and she staggered as if waking up
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from a deep, dark sleep. He looked at us with eyes full of
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confusion and fear without understanding what had happened. It was then that we began
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to understand the terrifying truth. The department had manipulated and distorted my mother,
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making her a dark reflection of herself. With the support of my mother'
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s boyfriend, we made the decision to leave that cursed place behind, pack
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our belongings and move around breaking ties. With that dying nightmares, my mother
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stopped having sleepwalking since the first night we walked away from that place. In
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time we again found the peace we had lost and never returned. I don
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' t know what was in that apartment, but I really hope no one
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else will rent it back. Never more anonymous account