Puerto Rican Horror Story

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What I am about to tell you is something my father told me a few years back. I still feel shivers down my spine when I think of it and the mental imagery that comes with it doesn’t help at all. This happened to my father, maybe or so, in his middle school years. It involves a series of different paranormal events that quickly escalated in scale over the course of a few days.

It all started one night when my dad was alone in my grandparent’s house and was getting himself ready to head out to a local festivity that the town celebrated every September. As he was finishing up in front of the hallway mirror that connected my grandparent’s bedroom to the living room, he saw a figure looking towards him in the bedroom. My father looked at him, clearly seeing a tall figure wearing a top hat and a nice suit. My father was startled, but not afraid. He recognized the figure as his deceased great uncle, whom he had met when he was a small child. He was staring at my father with a concerned look, rubbing his right hand underneath his chin. After a few minutes, he disappeared and my father went straight out of the house. He did not know what had happened, but he was unaware that things were about to get freakier.

Several days later, my father was eating alone at my grandparent’s home when he suddenly heard the family dog barking. He was barking nonstop to my aunt’s room and, after a few minutes, came rushing to where my dad sat. He tried to calm the frightened dog down, who vigorously kept barking. Immediately, in front of my father’s very own eyes, the entire tray of spoons and forks where thrown into the sink in a violent fashion. My father jumped, but kept his cool. He shrugged it off as it were nothing serious or to be narrowly afraid of. My father is not a very easy man to scare, but if there was something that spooked him was what happened next.

At the climax of these events, my dad was delivering the local newspaper all around the neighborhood and was finishing his final run. It was about seven in the afternoon and the night had begun to fallen. My father stopped on his bike to his final destination: a friend’s house that was near a cemetery. He hastily called his friend, but there was no answer. He continued to call and eventually went his way to look through his window. There was still no response from either the friend or the family. It was as he was invisible to them. Immediately, he felt the air becoming heavier around him. He looked to his sides until he saw a familiar dark figure walking in the opposite street from where he was. It was the silhouette of his deceased great uncle, which was something that caught him of guard. He was walking side to side in a very unnatural, yet hurried pace and began to morph into a different, unrecognizable form. This is when my dad trembled in fear. The figure was now an old lady and this old lady began rushing towards him. My dad, in disbelief and shock, tried to see if he can see the figure in much detail. The only thing he could make up was it’s wicked face…a face of pure evil. The figure decided to run towards my dad at top speed, to which he replied by peddling the hell out of there. After a few laps across the neighborhood, my father lost sight of the wicked thing and hurriedly returned back home.

After the incident, my dad confessed to my grandmother about what had been happening to him. She looked for help and eventually they got a priest to cleanse the house. After that, there were no more strange events going on inside the house or to my father. To this day, my dad gets shivers recounting this story. He still feels a heavy presence (especially in my grandparent’s bedroom) across the house, which my brother and I share this same feeling likewise. My dad believes that whatever chased him down the dark streets that night used his deceased uncle’s spirit to get to him. Luckily for him and me, he got away safely.

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