Así Es Vivír En Una Morgue Historias De Terror - REDE

0:05 Doña Matilde' s body, the house I grew up in, was always wrapped in a dark and mysterious air. My childhood was marked by the peculiarity of living with my father, a man whose life revolved around a funeral home he had installed in our own home, so since I remembered, I was immersed in the closeness with death a company that became increasingly disturbing. As the years passed, my father, the owner and operator of the funeral home. For obvious reasons, I was forbidden to enter the room, where the bodies were kept to be arranged and, in this way, to be able to give them the last farewell. Despite their strict warnings, my childish curiosity led me to challenge their authority from time to time, I even came to charge some neighborhood children who paid to see their insides out of those transactions. My interactions with the other children were scarce and my ability to socialize was affected by the funeral atmosphere that permeated my home. One day, while I was coloring in the living room, I heard my father talking to someone quietly. The distance prevented me from fully understanding the conversation, but my father' s serious tone indicated that a new body had arrived. My father said goodbye to the

1:36 visitor and informed me that I should leave for a moment, leaving me alone in the house, barely crossed the door. Curiosity took over me. I knew I should stay in the room, but the temptation to see that new corpse was too strong, so, opening the door with stealth, I entered the room. The atmosphere in the room that day was different. A chill swept through my spine as I approached the table, where the newly arrived body rested, even though it was covered by a sheet. The feeling in the room made me want to leave, but ignoring those fears, I raised the cloth with caution and found the pale figure of the old matilde, a neighbor who lived at the end of our street. Neighborhood kids considered her a witch.

2:30 They claimed it was transformed into owl to fly through the dark skies. To tell you the truth, I never believed in those stories. My father had always been in charge of teaching me that things like witchcraft or spirits were things that people, with nothing better to do, invented to hang out or scare. I was thinking about it. As I looked at the old woman, who lay on the table with a cadaveric appearance, my eyes met with hers, which were still open and before I could react her hands clung tightly to my arm, nailing her nails like sharp claws. I desperately forced myself to free myself from his grip by falling to the ground with a strong blow.

3:20 My breath accelerated and the worst was yet to come. The old woman ' s body moved rigidly, falling from the table in a strange position. The sheet was slowly removed, revealing a grotesque appearance and a posture similar to that of a human spider. Creepy grunts filled the room, as the old woman, now transformed into a hideous creature, approached me on all fours. My legs finally answered and I jumped up, running out of the room and closing the door behind me. On the other side of the door I heard frantic scratches as if the creature was trying to escape. The sounds stopped abruptly.

4:03 When my father came home trembling, I stood in the room just to find out that everything was in order, as if the nightmare had never happened. Fear took hold of me, but the fear of facing my father' s wrath kept me silent. Although the room was immaculate, I knew that what lived in it was more than just a nightmare. Doña Matilde' s fingernail marks were still visible on my arm. That was certainly tangible proof of what had happened. I was afraid to tell my father about the experience, not only because of the sure reprimand for having disobeyed his rules, but also because this was a skeptical man and I would never believe in the possibility that an inert body rising and grunting would be responsible for the wounds on my arm.

5:01 For the rest of that afternoon, I tried to convince myself that it had been a hallucination. The wounds on my arm were too real to ignore while I was doing my homework. My mind constantly wandered toward that experience. I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I barely noticed my father examining the marks on my arm. He questioned me about his origin with a knot in my throat, I invented a story about climbing a tree and cutting me with its branches. Luckily, for me, my father did not delve into the subject, accepting my explanation not without asking me to be more careful. The lie gave me a momentary relief, but the truth continued to haunt me that night, the memory of old Matilde and her creepy transformation did not abandon me.

5:55 I tried to sleep, but the memories prevented me. It' s or it' s midnight. I finally fell into a restless dream. That didn' t last long. I woke up startled by the memory. As I calmed down, I tried to go back to sleep, but an emergency took me to the bathroom. At the end, the anguish seized me When I returned to my room, a strange noise came from the kitchen. My first thought was that my father was there. As I approached the shade of the kitchen, the twisted figure of Doña Matilde was contorted in an arched position. His malevolent smile made my blood freeze. The old woman was there distorted and threatening her body, though deformed, moving with an inhuman speed. As he was heading towards me. Terror paralysed me, but the need to escape prompted me to retreat Doña Matilde into her unnatural position. He chased me relentlessly and I managed to get to my room in time and closed the door tightly, feeling my heart pounding wildly. The night became eternal. Fear took hold of me and the trail of that deformed creature continued to haunt me in my nightmares. When my father got up at dawn, everything was calm. The kitchen looked like nothing had happened, leaving everything in my memories again. The

7:29 dilemma of sharing my terror with my father intensified, but I thought I would face his skepticism. I had no idea what to think or who to turn to. All I could do was simply pray that it would not happen again. Doña Matilde' s farewell came in the form of a wake. The next day, few people showed up and although my father was busy with the preparations, I was happy and relieved that that body would finally get away from our home. I thought with your departure everything would return to normal. What I didn' t know was that the real nightmare was just beginning. The next night passed without incident. Apparently Doña Matilde' s presence faded with her departure. I managed to sleep without problems, but a nightmare stalked me in my dreams. In the nightmare I was trapped in a dark labyrinth with the walls slowly closing around me. The anguish enveloped me as I desperately tried to find a way out, but each turn brought me back to the same point.

8:43 My breathing was getting short. The sweat was slipping down my forehead, while claustrophobia was taking over me. All that felt very real to make just one dream Suddenly. The walls shuddered, revealing gritty faces watching me with empty eyes, I woke up startled, but the feeling of oppression persisted. The next morning the light of day arrived with an apparent normality, dispelled the shadows of the nightmare and plunged into the daily routine. However, the illusion of peace faded when, when I lay down that night, I noticed a soft glow in my room. My eyes met with the unexpected vision of one of my toy cars, which, without apparent explanation, moved and shed lights in the gloom. Although scared I knew I couldn' t allow the toy to continue wandering around my room with caution. I got up and put my barefoot feet on the floor, but before I could even take a step, a pair of bony hands emerged from the darkness under my bed, clutching me by the ankles hard. I felt a severe pain in the face of the terror that seized me when I was dragged abruptly to the ground. The fear was unstoppable. That time I started screaming so loud that I woke up my father, who, alerted by my cries of despair, broke into the room.

10:16 He only found me trembling still with almost half a body under the bed, without trace of the entity that had emerged. From there I told my father about the horror I had witnessed, but his unbelieving eyes and condescending tone of voice attributed my experience to a vivid nightmare. I tried to convince him by telling my story in detail, but my attempts were in vain. As the days passed, paranormal events intensified. Shadows could be seen on the walls every time I was alone, inaudible whispers filled the air and sometimes the lights flashed inexplicably. Every single attempt to explain it to my father was in vain.

11:03 His skepticism persisted, while my anguish grew. The nights became a torment between my own reality and the presence of Doña Matilde. One night I was lying in bed, I felt a cold gust of wind in the room, even though the windows were closed. The lamp he had began to give faint flashes. The flashing light cast disquieting shadows on the walls and the shadow. I glimpsed the twisted figure of the old woman, extending her bony hands towards me. His laughter resonated in the darkness and his voice enveloped me terrified. I tried to run, but a sleep paralysis had taken over me. My breathing was heavy and scary, and the latter increased when I felt a hand touching my foot. The penetrating cold of his touch left me breathless, it was as if death itself rubbed my skin. When I told that to my father, alien to my sufferings, I remained steadfast in his skepticism. His attempts to comfort me became vague words of encouragement that fell on deaf ears. The gap between us widened as the entity became more intrusive. Another night, while I was asleep, I found myself wandering through the dark corridors of the funeral home. In a lucid dream, the presence of Doña Matilde materialized in front of me. His figure was distorted as a shadow in the shadow. Every

12:39 step he took sounded like a sinister echo and his empty eyes watched me with a supernatural intensity. I tried to escape, but every door I opened led me to a darker corner of the funerary maze. The entity was making fun of me. Whispers filled the air wrapped me in torment. Every night it turned into a battle to keep my sanity. Doña Matilde' s shadows were projected on the walls voices, whispered to me in the corners and the cold of her presence persisted. Doña Matilde' s entity was still trying to disrupt my life. Not only did it manifest itself in lucid dreams, but it also left its mark on the physical world. Objects moved inexplicably, shadows danced on the walls all that without mentioning the bruises and scratches that I had begun to notice in many parts of my body. One afternoon, while I was wandering around the funeral home, I found myself again in the room where the bodies are kept. Since the meeting with Doña Matilde I had refrained from entering at that time. A desire to do so invaded me. The heavy atmosphere thickened around me and the presence of Doña Matilde intensified with every step I took, not knowing why I was doing what I was doing. My trembling hands spread toward the door, but before I touched it, a chill ran through

14:11 my spine, so I finally decided not to come in. When I turned around, the entity revealed itself in front of me. Her twisted figure made her look pretty grotesque. I tried to back off, but every move was answered by a grunt. Doña Matilde extended one of her bony hands to me. He suffered a touch and clung to my skin. My cry resonated in every corner of the house and at that moment the entity faded like a shadow at dawn leaving me trembling in the dark reality that now inhabited the nights of insomnia became my reality and the fear of meeting the entity took over every thought or r r remember taking refuge in my local church in search of answers, which were attended by a priest, who, despite noticing not believing in my story, gave me a rosary and a prayer with which he assured me to find peace. The most terrifying episode was yet to arrive at dawn I woke up soaked in sweat as it was customary, my room was wrapped in a grave silence as I incorporated my gaze fell into the dark corner of the room and then Doña Matilde materialized right there with her laughter, resounding in my ears like an infernal echo. You can' t escape. He whispered his voice,

15:45 he carried with him, which I can only describe as pure evil. His presence intensified. I tried to run, but his bony hands immediately immobilized me. I was trying to scream, but my voice was barely heard. The entity climbed to face- to- face with me. I could feel her fetid breath, which hit my nose and made me nauseous. I wanted to pray again the prayer the priest had taught me that evening, no matter how much I tried. I couldn' t remember beyond the first words. My attempts to pray led that horrible entity to laugh at me and as if trying to prove something is, he placed his hand on my face, preventing me from breathing. He could hear the entity laughing and he could see that he enjoyed it. That night I felt I was going to die. My father entered my room, causing that spectrum to fade away. Although my father could see nothing if he witnessed how I desperately tried to breathe. That worried him so much that he ended up taking me to the hospital, where, once the doctors assured him that I was living well. I recounted my experiences with Doña Matilde again, but my father, exhausted from my stories that became more and more fantastic and dangerous in his opinion, decided to take drastic steps to return peace to our home. Even without being convinced that something beyond human

17:17 explanation was happening, he decided to call a local priest to bless the house. The arrival of man marked a change in the charged atmosphere of the funeral home. With ceremonial gestures and sacred words, the priest toured every corner of our house, invoking divine protection. Since that day, the oppressive atmosphere that had plagued the house decreased and the nights became quieter. The blessing not only brought with it a relative peace, but also eased the tension between my father and me. My father still maintaining his skepticism is that he accepted that after that blessing he could feel in the house a less heavy atmosphere. Despite the apparent calm, some nights I still felt Doña Matilde' s gaze upon me as a persistent shadow. His presence was manifested in distant whispers and the feeling that something was patiently waiting in the dark. The blessing had removed the most intense supernatural experiences, but the footprint of the entity persisted. The nights became a delicate balance between tranquility and restlessness. The blessing had offered a barrier, but it did not completely eliminate the feeling that something beyond human understanding was lurking in the shadows. However, as days became weeks and weeks in months,

18:52 disturbances became less frequent. Over time, the funeral home regained its ancient splendour and the presence of Doña Matilde gradually faded away. My life, though marked by that dark chapter, found this ability. I never experienced anything similar again and I appreciate it every day. Tale written and adapted by aurora. Escalante