Los Que Viven Muchos Traileros Por La Noche Historias De Terror - REDE

WEBVTT

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My name is Marco and I'
ve been a trailer driver for over 20

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years. My arrival at the transport
wasn' t something I' d planned

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ahead of time. In fact,
one could say that it was chance that

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led me to become a trailer driver, a trade that, unknowingly, would

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define much of my life. It
all started with a job I had in

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my youth at a small logistics company
in my hometown. At that time,

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my work was mainly in the warehouse, organizing shipments and ensuring that everything was

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ready for shipment. It wasn'
t a bad job, but it wasn

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' t something I was passionate about
either. However, it was there that

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I met Raúl, a freight carrier
veteran who used to come to collect goods

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for long distances. Raúl was a
man of few words, but in the

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hours we spent waiting for the load
to be ready, he began to tell

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me the story of the road wave, the places he had seen and the

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people he had met over time.
Those stories began to arouse in me a

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curiosity I didn' t know I
had. The idea of traveling, of

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knowing new places became increasingly attractive.
It was Raul who first suggested that he

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might try to be a trailerist.
At first I took it for a joke,

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but the more I thought it made
more sense. I didn' t

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have much ties at the time and
the idea of a radical change in my

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life started to sound like just what
I needed. When I finally made the

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decision, Raul helped me get my
first job as a driver. The first

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few years were tough. Learning to
drive a trailer would not be easy and

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long hours on the road can be
exhausting, but each trip was a new

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adventure and gradually I fell in love
with life on the road. That'

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s how chance was. Along with
a bit of curiosity and influence from someone

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who had already walked that road,
it led me to become a trailer driver.

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My first trips as a trailer driver
weren' t exactly a walk in

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the park. In fact, because
of a mixture of hazing and the need

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to prove my worth, I was
assigned some of Mexico' s most dangerous

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sections. One of those first trips
was through the Sierra Madre Occidental, a

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route known for its dangerous cliffs.
Not only was topography a challenge, but

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weather conditions could change dramatically in a
matter of minutes, moving from a scorching

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sun to a fog so thick that
you could barely see beyond the hood of

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your truck. In those ways,
any mistake, however minimal, could have

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fatal consequences. I remember pushing the
wheel so hard that my knuckles became white

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as I tried to keep the trailer
in its lane, aware that on the

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other side of the security barrier there
was nothing but emptiness. Another stage that

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marked those early years was the passage
through areas known for their high organized crime

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activity. There were unwritten rules that
I quickly had to learn. Do not

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stop in certain places, do not
make eye contact with certain vehicles and,

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above all, keep moving. These
initial experiences in the most dangerous sections of

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Mexico shaped me as a driver.
Twenty years later, here I am,

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I have traveled countless kilometers across Mexico
and in this time I have come across

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situations that challenge all logic. Today
I want to share with you some of

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those experiences, those that still make
me question what we consider real. One

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Thursday night I set out to cross
over with an urgent shipment. Despite the

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rush. Lack of sleep forced me
to consider a rest stop. That night.

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The cabin was packed, not only
with the usual load but with addiction

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packages. Faced with this, I
decided to rest in the driver' s

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seat, looking for a break,
even if it were minimal, I found

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a place under an old tree.
I tried to sleep, but a disturbing

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feeling of being watched invaded me.
I looked around, but everything was quiet.

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At dawn, that feeling of a
malicious look intensified. My eyes looked

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in the dark, but I saw
nothing. The only company was the silence

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and noise of the wind. I
was convinced that I wasn' t alone

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in tension, and when I looked
at the clock it was three thirty-

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three in the morning. While I
was settling one last glance at the tree,

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I was freezing the blood there bathed
in moonlight VI, something that made

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me scream in terror. Between the
branches of a tree was formed the silhouette

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of a man suspended by a rope, his eyes disorbited nailed to mine.

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I jumped out of the trailer and
ran to the nearest gas station about 200

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meters away. My heart hit my
chest hard, as the sight of the

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hanging man was displayed in my mind. When I arrived and broke into the

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store, agitated and babbling the present, from the customers to the dispatchers and

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the police, they watched me.
A federal policeman approached to try to calm

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me down and, in between breaths, I told him the horror I had

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witnessed. My body trembled uncontrollably,
accompanied by the police. I returned to

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the site of the event for a
detailed inspection, although everything seemed to have

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returned to normal. The darkness offered
no clues of the man he had seen

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hanging or of any other disturbing presence. The agents examined the area around the

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tree without finding any evidence of the
appearance. There was only one lingering edour

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left in the rotten egg air.
The investigation at the site only raised unanswered

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questions. The cops were talking in
Itre about sceptical looks. One of them,

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the youngest, approached me to tell
me that possibly fatigue and stress had

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played a bad turn to my senses. However, the smell of rotten egg

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was still there. They decided to
leave him at night with the promise to

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return to the Dawn for a more
thorough inspection. With daylight they suggested that

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I try to rest. The idea
of closing my eyes terrified me. However,

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exhaustion could have been more than fear
and I finally fell asleep. It

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wasn' t long before the dream
was interrupted by a subtle, almost imperceptible

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sound, as if someone gently scratches
the glass from the window. My eyes

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opened suddenly and my heart began to
beat hard. I got up cautiously and

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approached the window, striving to see
something in the darkness that spread beyond the

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glass. At first, only blackness
and reflection, but then something caught my

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attention. A gloomy figure barely perceptible, moved slowly among the trees on the

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other side of the road. The
figure seemed to be looking directly at the

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window where I was. Although it
was impossible to see his features or intentions

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terrified, but unable to deflect his
gaze, I remained motionless watching the figure

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slowly fade into darkness, leaving behind
the same rotten egg edour that was at

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the scene of the event. When
the first rays of light finally came out,

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I felt calm. I' ve
never been so relieved to see the

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day. About two years after that, when my wife Ana was pregnant,

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she was already about seven months old. So, I was worried about leaving

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alone at home, while I was
supposed to carry out my responsibilities as a

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driver. So we thought until we
found a solution, I' d take

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her to her sister' s house
so she' d stay until birth.

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Her sister lived in another State and, therefore, I had to take her

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with me on a journey whose route
passed near the city where her sister lived.

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I don' t remember exactly what
the burden was. At about 5

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: 30 in the morning we saw
a lonely silhouette in the distance. The

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sight of a woman in such dimness
was unusual and captured our attention immediately.

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As we approached, we observed that
his attire was simple and that the wind

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had entangled his hair. Despite the
scant lighting, his face radiated serenity and

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held a basket full of bouquets of
flowers restless by his presence at those hours

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I reduced the speed and by courtesy, I offered him a greeting from the

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window. She answered us with a
smile and we stopped and moved by the

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concern, we offered her our help. Then we decided to take her to

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the city. Let' s put
your flowers in the back of our vehicle,

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making sure the trip didn' t
mistreat them. Once the bouquets were

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secured, she settled in with us
and we resumed the road. Now illuminated

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by the first lights of the day, my wife sitting next to me was

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talking to the lady. Suddenly,
my wife touched my arm pointing towards the

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copilot' s seat. Now empty. The woman who until a moment ago

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shared with us, had disappeared without
a trace. Confused, we stopped the

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truck to look for it. However, we find no sign of his presence.

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It was as if a heavy silence
had vanished and filled the booth as

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we tried to understand what had happened. Looking for explanations in each other we

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only find more questions. We continued
the path, but the shadow of the

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unexplainable was born with us. The
journey continued in silence, broken only by

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the sound of the engine. Lost
in our thoughts we tried to understand what

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happened to the woman who had disappeared
upon reaching our destination. The atmosphere felt

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heavier than usual. We attribute change
to our own uneasiness trying to understand what

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happened. While the workers unloaded the
box. The store owner, an older

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man invited us for a coffee in
his little office. There we shared our

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experience with the woman Mr The only
thing he told us was that he had

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already heard the same story from some
other people, since the workers had just

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unloaded the box. We left before
I took my way back, diverted me

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a little bit so that my wife' s sister would pick her up.

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I remember when we said goodbye,
both my wife and I exchanged a weird

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look. We both had a bad
feeling, but neither of us wanted to

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comment. In the span of those
two months in which I continued to work

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while my son was born, some
quite striking things occurred to me. For

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example, on one occasion that I
had to leave a load to Puebla it

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was night, the road was practically
empty. In a certain stretch a dense

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fog began to cover everything around me, severely limiting my visibility. The lights

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of the car barely pierced the thick
fog and the sense of isolation became more

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and more intense. That' s
when the fireballs began to appear. At

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first I thought my eyes were cheating
on me as a result of tiredness and

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the stress of driving with such little
visibility. But there they were floating on

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the sides of the road, moving
slowly among the trees, illuminating the fog

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with a glow over natural that could
not explain. The real terror began when,

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between the murmur of the engine and
the gnashing of the leaves under the

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wheels of the car, I began
to hear a laugh, a female laugh

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that seemed to come from nowhere and
from everywhere. At the same time I

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looked, but the vision that caught
my attention was not comforting. Between the

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flames and the fog, I glimpsed
the figure of a woman. It was

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not a clear vision, rather a
silhouette distorted by heat and motion, but

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real enough for fear to take over
me. The woman seemed to dance among

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the flames and her laughter intensified as
I tried to get away in my despair

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and fear, I began to recite
prayers, anything that came to mind,

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in the hope that the sound of
my voice would calm me down or keep

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away whatever I was seeing. Surprisingly, the figures and sounds began to fade

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and the mist became clear enough that
it could move on. I don'

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t know if it was really the
prayers or if my mind exhausted by fear,

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just decided to ignore what my eyes
saw. When I finally arrived at

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my destination, I was exhausted,
not only physically, but emotionally. In

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my first experiences and the last trip
I had several strange things happen to me,

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but in reality none was as shocking
as to tell it here. But

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what happened to me on the last
trip I made before my daughter was born

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is worth telling, especially because on
that occasion I was not alone but I

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was carrying a friend. That means
there was a witness besides me, and

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I didn' t figure it out. It was about midnight when my colleague

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Luis and I were on a road
that was not very busy, the truck

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was going one hundred and twenty kilometers
per hour, and between talks about work

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and life, the journey was getting
shorter. However, the normality of that

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night was interrupted in the most abrupt
and unexpected way out of nowhere. A

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human figure appeared in front of us
with barely seconds to react. I turned

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the wheel abruptly, managed to dodge
the man, but losing control of the

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truck in the process. The vehicle
got off the road, but fortunately,

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we managed to stop without suffering any
serious damage. Even with my heart in

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my throat, I looked back looking
for the person who almost caused a fatal

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accident. That' s when I
saw him, a skull- headed man

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was on the side of the road
right near our truck. For a moment

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I doubted my own sanity. I
turned to Louis for confirmation of what my

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eyes saw, but he saw nothing
out of the ordinary. He suggested that

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it was probably the nerves of the
moment trying to rationalize the irrational. However,

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we were both blinded two when a
macabre laugh broke the silence of the

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night. It wasn' t a
human laugh, it was something that sounded

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twisted, something that didn' t
belong in this world. I turned on

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the lights from the truck I tore
off and we continued our journey. Eventually,

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laughter was no longer heard, although
calm had returned, the tension and

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fear for what was lived remained with
us for the rest of the journey.

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Reflecting on what happened, I tried
to find a logical explanation. Perhaps it

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was the product of tiredness or an
optical illusion caused by the darkness of the

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night. However, deep down in
my being I know that what we live

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that night challenged all logic. That
laugh, that skull- headed man wasn

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' t left alone on the road. Like I told you. That was

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the last trip before I took my
vacation to be with my wife. During

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childbirth we had a child who was
suffocating. When I arrived at my wife

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' s sister' s house,
the memory of macabre laughter and the skull

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- headed figure was still chasing me, even though during the day I was

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happy taking care of my daughter at
bedtime. I had really very intimidating nightmares.

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The reason we stayed for a while
at my sister- in- law

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' s house was not to move
the baby down the road. At night.

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My dreams were filled with constant nightmares, reliving again and again the encounter

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on the road, but with an
even darker and terrifying twist. The macabre

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laughter that Luis and I had heard
turned into a deafening roar and the skull

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- headed figure chased me unabatedly.
I woke up in sweat with my heart

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beating a thousand an hour just to
realize that the atmosphere of the house had

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been charged with dense and oppressive energy. The problem with my nightmares was that

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they didn' t stay inside my
head. It all began with small,

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almost imperceptible incidents At first, objects
that seemed to move from place on their

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own doors that closed for no apparent
reason and flashing lights without explanation. I

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tried to ignore it. However,
these anomalies became more frequent and more intense

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until I could no longer ignore them. Dishes and glasses broke without anyone touching

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them and the air was filled with
a cold in the middle of summer.

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Sofia that until then had been a
quiet baby. He began to weep heartlessly

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at night, as if he could
feel the presence of something disturbing that we

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were just beginning to understand. Ana
and her sister were worried without understanding what

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was happening. That' s when
I decided to tell you about what happened.

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On that last trip before the holidays, I told them about the skull

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- headed man, the chilling laugh
and since then something seemed to have stayed

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with me. The situation at Ana' s sister' s house became even

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more alarming when we began to notice
that something bad was happening to our baby.

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One night while trying to calm down
in the face of one of her

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sudden cries, I noticed small bruises
in her arms as if something or someone

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had held her tightly. Ana and
I looked at each other with a mixture

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of fear and bewilderment There was no
logical explanation for those bruises. Sofia was

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always in the presence of one of
us. These physical signs were quite alarming

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and the idea that something might be
hurting our daughter. It filled us with

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indescribable terror. The nights became a
sophie ordeal. He woke up screaming his

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little face contracted in an expression of
terror that no baby should know. Try

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bar let' s console her by
rocking her in our arms, singing her

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lullabies, but nothing seemed to calm
her down completely. Sometimes, while he

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was holding her, trying to reassure
her, he could feel a cold and

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hostile presence around us, as if
what had followed us from the road was

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now focusing his attention on sophia.
The situation reached a critical point when one

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afternoon, as I entered his room, I found that man with skull head

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carrying sophia. That thing disappeared as
soon as I came in and the baby

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fell on his crib. That night
she got very sick. We had to

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go to the hospital urgently, but
he died. The doctors didn' t

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have an explanation to offer us.
He just died. My daughter' s

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death was like an earthquake seeing her
leave left a void that seemed insurmountable and

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the loss was so devastating that she
left scars on mons hard to close.

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The pain took hold of my day
to day, affecting not only my heart,

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but also the relationship with my wife. The sadness that enveloped us became

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a difficult obstacle to overcome. After
losing our daughter, my wife made the

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decision to leave blaming me for the
death of our daughter, as she said

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that whatever I had encountered during my
last trip had caused Sofia’ s death.

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So, no wife and no daughter, I went into my job.

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The trailer turned. My life didn' t rest a day so I wouldn

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' t think. On one occasion, while driving in the lonely road,

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I met someone asking for a lift, I decided to help him. The

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guy was too quiet at first greeted
me and told me that he would get

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off at the exit, that it
was three kilometers away, that from there

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he would walk for his people.
When we got to the exit, I

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stopped the obvious trailer without turning off
the engine. I told the man we

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' re here. What I was
waiting for was for the guy to open

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the door and get off to get
on with my route. As the man

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did not move, I repeated to
him that we had already arrived. So,

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when the guy put his right hand
on the lever to open the door,

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I noticed his hand was bone.
He opened the door, but he

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turned to look at me and told
me your daughter is cute. Then he

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got off and left. I was
upset too much. Time goes on,

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years go on and I still can' t stop thinking about it. My

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head' s always spinning. Logic
tells me that this man was the same

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one I saw in my nightmares,
the same one I saw on the road,

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the same one I saw carrying my
daughter the night she died. Story

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written and adapted by Ramma Miro contreras