This history it was told me by a girl of approximately 16 years, and it did not happen to her, but to its mother, a Spanish that it emigrated to Germany tolook for the life, a house having to berented with its young husband whoscarcely had serviceability.
Of course, it had mysterious visitors.
At first there were only sounds, scrapes inthe pillow that it was keeping embracedwhile he was trying to rest after so manyworking time. He scared it, truly, but itmaintained the calmness and thought thatit was its own depletion the one that wasmaking her ha
ve auditory hallucinations.The scrapes in the bed are not so unusual:no?. We have heard many. They are visitorswho want to communicate to us that "theyare there also, that we are not alone".
The young woman lived with this strangeexperience a few days and ended upgetting accustomed, but somethingterrible happened one night. It wasknocked down in the bed, resting, itshusband was shaving in the bathroom, andsuddenly a few lucecitas of a size slightlymajor than that of the marbles, bluish andbrilliant half notes, they began to go out ofunder the bed.
They rose, climbed up to putting them selves on her, and danced.
The girl looked at them astonished,swallowed saliva and breathed deeply.What was that? Where from were theygoing out? What was producing them?
And then the lights began to dance withmore sudden movements, and a powerfulforce went out of them. The girl noticedthis force in punches and invisible kicksthat were striking it and were stampingagainst the walls. . . It shouted, and itshusband was cut by the gillette. When hewas going to go out the door of thebathroom closed suddenly.
The young emigrant Spaniard suffered adrubbing that made her ruined, and couldnot do a denunciation, because in whatpolice officer police station they were goingto listen to similar history without burstingout laughing.
It did not happen again to him because itreturned to Spain between tears andterrors.
For years it never counted the history, andwhen it did it, it was it was told to itsdaughter - my confidant - who confessedto me that its mother could not speakabout the topic without beginning to cryand to tremble.
It is not for less. Its daughter also wept toto tell it to me.
Of course, it had mysterious visitors.
At first there were only sounds, scrapes inthe pillow that it was keeping embracedwhile he was trying to rest after so manyworking time. He scared it, truly, but itmaintained the calmness and thought thatit was its own depletion the one that wasmaking her ha
ve auditory hallucinations.The scrapes in the bed are not so unusual:no?. We have heard many. They are visitorswho want to communicate to us that "theyare there also, that we are not alone".
The young woman lived with this strangeexperience a few days and ended upgetting accustomed, but somethingterrible happened one night. It wasknocked down in the bed, resting, itshusband was shaving in the bathroom, andsuddenly a few lucecitas of a size slightlymajor than that of the marbles, bluish andbrilliant half notes, they began to go out ofunder the bed.
They rose, climbed up to putting them selves on her, and danced.
The girl looked at them astonished,swallowed saliva and breathed deeply.What was that? Where from were theygoing out? What was producing them?
And then the lights began to dance withmore sudden movements, and a powerfulforce went out of them. The girl noticedthis force in punches and invisible kicksthat were striking it and were stampingagainst the walls. . . It shouted, and itshusband was cut by the gillette. When hewas going to go out the door of thebathroom closed suddenly.
The young emigrant Spaniard suffered adrubbing that made her ruined, and couldnot do a denunciation, because in whatpolice officer police station they were goingto listen to similar history without burstingout laughing.
It did not happen again to him because itreturned to Spain between tears andterrors.
For years it never counted the history, andwhen it did it, it was it was told to itsdaughter - my confidant - who confessedto me that its mother could not speakabout the topic without beginning to cryand to tremble.
It is not for less. Its daughter also wept toto tell it to me.
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