Antes de comenzar la historia debo decirle que mi abuela vive en uno de esos campos Venezuela dónde lo que reina son historias de diferentes fantasmas.
Una semana santa nos encontramos de visita dónde mi abuela un lugar que es un campo muy bonito dónde son pocas las casas que se logran visualizar, aunque este sitio es muy bueno para vacacionar y por diferentes cosas son pocas las fechas dónde logramos reunirnos la familia.
En esa fecha nos logramos reunir los primos que teníamos varios años sin vernos así que esa noche mientras conversabamos comenzamos a jugar dominó, un juego bastante famoso en mí país. Ente risas he historias las horas pasaron muy rápido y al darnos cuenta ya eran las 12:30 AM.
En eso se levanta mi abuela y nos dice que lo más seguro es que nos vallamos cada uno a dormir ya que era una semana santa y debíamos respetar a los que no estaban.
Al principio no préstamos mucha atención y seguimos conversando y riendonos, a la 1:20 AM se empezaron a sentir cosas raras en los árboles como si alguien estuviera cortandolos en ese momento nos extraño por la hora pero aún así no nos importo.
Ya a la 2:00 AM el ruido se hacía más intenso y cada vez los árboles producían un ruido tenebroso, así que decidimos entre todos irnos cada uno a dormir. Uno de mis primos debía irse a su casa que quedaba a 20 minutos de dónde estábamos, mi primo prende la moto y antes de arrancar mi abuela le dice quédese hijo y se va en la mañana, mi primo solo responde no se preocupe abuela yo me voy que por ahí no hay nada.
Mi primo arranca y no habían pasado ni dos minutos de averse ido cuando la oscuridad de la noche no lo dejo ver más, comenzamos a escuchar a lo lejos como el ruido de la moto se intensificaba como si tratara de arrancar y algo no se lo permitiera. Salimos corriendo a ver qué pasaba y conseguimos a mi primo tirado en el piso desmayado, tratamos de alumbrar con nuestros teléfonos al rededor a ver quién había golpeado a mi primo pero la oscuridad no nos permitía ver nada así que no los llevamos a casa de mi abuela para auxiliarlo dónde podamos ver con más claridad.
Al reaccionar mi primo le preguntamos qué paso y el solo cuenta que al pasar cerca de donde se escuchaban que estaban cortando árboles el siente que alguien se le monta en la moto, la reacción de él fue acelerar para salir de la oscuridad dónde estaba y él cuenta que lo último que sintió fue un fuerte golpe en la cabeza.
Sin contarle a nadie le pedimos a mi primo que se quede para evitar otro susto y en la mañana le contamos a mi abuela lo que había pasado, ella solo dice bastante se los dije, estamos en semana santa y es cuando más debemos respetar lo que haya por hay en la oscuridad. Después de desayunar vamos varias personas a ver los árboles que estaban cortando en la noche y al llegar al sitio donde se escuchaba que estaban cortando los árboles nos damos cuenta que todo estaba tranquilo y como si nada hubiese pasado.
Desde ese día aprendí que debemos respetar más las semanas santa y sobre todo a lo que dicen los abuelos.
Before I begin the story I must tell you that my grandmother lives in one of those fields in Venezuela where what reigns are stories of different ghosts.
One Easter week we were visiting my grandmother in a place that is a very beautiful countryside where there are few houses that can be seen, although this place is very good for vacationing and for different reasons there are few dates where we manage to get together the family.
On that date we were able to meet the cousins that we had several years without seeing each other so that night while we talked we started to play dominoes, a very famous game in my country. With laughter and stories the hours passed very quickly and when we realized it was already 12:30 AM.
Then my grandmother got up and told us that we should go to sleep because it was a holy week and we had to respect those who were not there.
At the beginning we didn't pay much attention and continued talking and laughing, at 1:20 AM we started to feel strange things in the trees as if someone was cutting them down, at that moment we felt strange because of the time but we still didn't care.
At 2:00 AM the noise became more intense and each time the trees produced a creepy noise, so we all decided to go to sleep. One of my cousins had to go to his house which was 20 minutes away from where we were, my cousin started the motorcycle and before starting my grandmother told him to stay son and leave in the morning, my cousin only answered don't worry grandmother, I'm going, there is nothing there.
My cousin started and not even two minutes after he had left when the darkness of the night did not let him see any more, we began to hear in the distance how the noise of the motorcycle intensified as if it was trying to start and something did not allow it to do so. We ran out to see what was happening and we found my cousin lying on the floor passed out, we tried to light up with our phones around to see who had hit my cousin but the darkness did not allow us to see anything so we did not take them to my grandmother's house to help him where we could see more clearly.
When my cousin reacted we asked him what happened and he only said that when he passed near where they were cutting trees he felt that someone was riding on his motorcycle, his reaction was to accelerate to get out of the darkness where he was and he says that the last thing he felt was a strong blow to his head.
Without telling anyone we ask my cousin to stay to avoid another scare and in the morning we tell my grandmother what had happened, she just says I told you enough, we are in Holy Week and it is when we must respect what is out there in the dark. After breakfast several people went to see the trees that were being cut at night and when we got to the place where we heard that they were cutting the trees we realized that everything was quiet and as if nothing had happened.
From that day I learned that we should respect more the holy weeks and above all what the grandparents say.
