A boy, who grew up along the Rio Grande River, was with his friend at night hanging around the river. They were talking about La Llorona when they heard a terrible scream from the darkness.
I received the following account:
"I grew up in a small border town. My dad was a Border Patrol agent, and as you can imagine it was pretty rough being the only white kid whose dad was booting Tio Pedro back into Mexico. I only had one real friend. We would go into the mesquite "forest" and explore. The vegetation was thick, covered in spines, and hid many nasty creatures. So as you can imagine, we learned to be careful.
One afternoon we slowly made our way out to a hill. One where we could throw rocks from, and see if we could hit the water of the Rio Grande. We lost track of time and it became dark. Pitchblack does not come close to describing it actually. We literally had to feel our way to the other side of the hill, and then look for the lights of our houses in the distance. We got comfortable after finding a trail and started joking around and talking. My very superstitious friend started telling me scary stories.
La Llorona came up (The Crying Woman, for anyone who does not know). She is a ghost who wanders around looking for her children who drowned. She drowned them in some versions of the story. My friend said, and I quote, "Us being all alone out here and talking about her is bad though."
Then he got quiet and acted very nervous. We walked along the trail even faster. Then we heard what sounded like other people. This is totally possible since illegals were most likely within a stone's throw distance in any direction.
But the noises turned into whispers. Whispers in English. Which was very odd for illegals to do. They usually kept their distance from us and did not know a lick of English. The one that I remember distinctly said "Swim it."
In the distance, we heard a splash from behind us. In the river. Then from the side, our left, we heard a soft crying. Then it turned into a full-blown scream. Like, I cannot describe it. It was the scream that you only hear from someone in real pain.
So of course, we bolted. We sprinted the whole way home. We ran through the brush, got cut and pricked to hell, and hid under my bed until dawn.
So either we heard La Llorona or two 7-year-old boys nearly walked into a seriously bad situation!" O
NOTE: Were their minds playing tricks on them, or did they mind-manifest a La Llorona? Your thoughts. Lon
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