La Llorona (The Weeping Woman)

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
I made the biggest mistake of my life, I only wanted to try and help her...now she won't leave me alone.

Submitted: August 02, 2016

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Submitted: August 02, 2016

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I’m so tired.

 

Ever since hearing that wail, that awful, spine chilling wail of sorrow, I haven’t been able to sleep peacefully.

 

Dark images would conjure in my dreams and I’d eventually feel like I was suffocating, sometimes this feeling was aided by the image of bony white fingers wrapped around my throat. Other times I’d feel like I was drowning, grimy liquid filling my lungs as I desperately beg for breath.

 

It was days ago that I first spotted the woman in black, standing by the side of a lake in our local park, her head bowed down towards the water so her hair concealed her face from sight.

 

I remember the sobbing and words being muttered in a language that I have never spoken, nor can I understand even in fragments.

 

I wish I’d never gone over and asked if she was alright, that I’d just continued on my way home without looking back, but it was too late for that and to this day I regret even thinking of trying to help.

 

A death omen.

 

That is what they called her.

 

No matter if you called her La Llorona, the Weeping Woman or any other variation of name, she was always a death omen if you saw her, everyone knew the stories of people seeing her and then a family member passing away a short while later.

 

What they don’t tell you is the other affects after you’ve seen her, the constant worry and paranoia over who you are going to lose and when.

 

Everything started slowly, aside from a feeling of unease every now and then life had been near enough normal. Gradually over the days images of that woman flashed into my mind, the thought of her standing by the lake, dressed in a long black dress, took over my every thought.

 

These images seemed harmless at first, in fact they seemed natural after the rather unsettling encounter, but it soon got to a point where every time I saw her my blood would run cold.

 

Everyday I felt I needed to call my family to make sure they were all still well, it was hard resisting the urge to call them multiple times a day, not caring that I’d be nothing but a nuisance after the first few days.

 

But the feeling of dread never faded, if anything it only increased and made me more paranoid.

 

I can't tell you when I realised it was me she was targeting, her sighting was an omen for my own downfall.

 

I'm not sure when the images changed to her drowning me, her grey hands tightly clamped around my throat to help me on my way to a slow death.

 

More often than not I’d find myself glancing over my shoulder, whether I was travelling alone or in a group didn’t seem to matter.

 

I’d notice her out of the corner of my eye, like something from a horror story that disappears when you look. The hairs on my body would stand on end and terrible, cold chills would slowly slither down my spine as if I was being watched all the time.

 

I spent exhausting hours trying to avoid anything that could show me reflection, in fear of seeing her leering over my shoulder and staring at me with those red and dead staring eyes of hers.

 

Washing had become a sparse thing these days, when I needed to I’d make it a quick sink wash that worked well enough to keep me at least smelling like I cared to bathe.

 

The thought of going near a face of water for a long time now filled me with dread and panic, washing my hair had become a nightmare due to the prolonged time I’d need to spend leaning over the shower.

 

It would be the perfect opportunity for her to take me by surprise, to pull me into the hell she has lined up for her chosen victims.

 

I’m so tired.

 

My life has become a shell of its former self, I’m hollow, my eyes are constantly bleary and bagged.

 

As I stand in the bathroom, staring at the bath, I finally come to a decision.

 

I can’t live like this.

 

Reaching over I put in the plug and turn on the water.

 

I’m so tired.

 

I just want it to stop.


© Copyright 2017 Hell R. All rights reserved.

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