A TRUE scary story: I saw La Llarona

I’ve got a couple true ghost stories, but this one is good because there was a witness.

It was about 10 PM, in the fall of 1992 and I was in a fraternity at the University of Arizona. One tradition we have is called “Walk Out” and it is when all the pledges walk out on their house duties and go somewhere as a group. However there is one rule that if the active members catch a pledge on the way to their predetermined location, the entire class has to come back to the house and negotiate a return of their pledge brother. No pledge class had ever gotten away Scott free, until now. We knew they had gone to Rocky Point, Mexico and I knew the way to the border.

“Hey!” I exclaimed. “The border closes at midnight and opens at 8 AM. It’s possible one of them didn’t make it across the border. It’s about a 4 hour drive. Who’s got a car?” One guy volunteered to drive and another to ride along.

Now, when I say “we were in the middle of nowhere” we really were, halfway between Tucson, and Lukesville, Arizona. I was reclined in the passenger seat, just resting when I decided to sit up for some reason. Since I grew up in Tucson, I had heard the legend of La Llarona many times. Supposedly this woman went crazy and drowned her children in a river. I think she drowned as well and the legend is her ghost appears near river banks and bridges and she is crying, wailing, searching for her children. La Llarona is the “Wailing Woman”. Famous piece of Southern Arizona and Northern Mexico folklore.

Now my friend, who was driving, is Swedish and had never heard the story. So, I sat up, and walking away from us, besides the road was this woman dressed in a flowing white robe. As we zoomed past she made no movement, as if she was unaware of our presence. From the passenger seat, as we drove past, I looked and her face seemed all black. I could not see her face.

Our conversation went something like this.

Me: Dude, you gotta turn around.
Friend: What?
Me: We have to see if she’s crying.
Friend: What the fuck was that?
Me: Dude, you are not going to believe this, I think we just saw a ghost.
Friend: No, actually I do believe that.

I could not convince him to turn around, and badump, bump, we drove over a bridge, over a river. I told him the story, but couldn’t remember the name. The guy in the backseat was asleep and missed the whole thing. An hour or so later a cop pulled us over because, why are you out here at 3 AM? “We have to pick up a stranded friend.” and we are 100% sober. We tell her the story.

Cop: Oh, La Llarona.
Me: Yeah, La Llarona.
Cop: Yeah, it wouldn’t be the first time we had a sighting out here. Everything checks out. You boys drive safe.

By the way, there was a pledge in a Jeep that had ran out of gas, and we captured him and returned him to the house, and kept the tradition alive.

Gotta love John Houseman.

Ok, this one is a little less visual but, in some ways just as creepy. I was living in New York City, and the courtayrd to my building was supposedly haunted. I was riding my bike a lot back then, about 25 years old, and I think I was looking pretty good. Why is it always female ghosts with me? At least they are adults. Child ghosts are the creepiest.

So, I am coming home from a bike ride, and I had this really nice Gary Fisher mountain bike, that you just can’t put on the street in New York, so I walk through the courtyard, hike my bike up onto my shoulder, open the front door, and start up the stairs. The door, as usual closes behind me and then, screeech, I heard the mail slot open. “That’s odd.” I thought. “I didn’t notice the mailman behind me.” and I turn to look, and the slot is just open, as if someone from outside is holding it open, peering up at me, but I can see right through to the ground. Now, at this moment, I was not freaked out. “Huh, spring must have broke.” I thought and I continued up the stairs. This was like 23 years ago, that spring is fine to this day. It wasn’t a gust of wind, there are two mail slots on that door, only one opened. It never has happened again. I can’t explain it. “A ghost wanted to check out my ass.” is literally the best explanation I can come up with.