picture of a creepy crossroad


La Mala Hora


Want to see the list of stories? CLICK HERE

My Friend Isabela called me one evening before dinner. She was sobbing as she told me that she and her husband, Enrique, were getting divorced. He had moved out of the house earlier that day, and Isabela was distraught.

I called my husband, who was on a business trip in Chicago, and he agreed that I should go stay with Isabela for a few days to help her during this difficult time. I packed a small suitcase and got right into the car. It was late, and it would take me at least four hours to drive from my home to Santa Fe. Isabela was expecting me to arrive around midnight. As I traveled down the dark wet highway, I could not shake the feeling that someone or something was watching me. I kept looking in the rearview mirror and glancing into the backseat. No on was there. Don't be ridiculous, I told myself, wishing fervently that I was home in my bed instead of driving on a dark, rainy night. There was almost no traffic, so I sped up the car, eager to reach Santa Fe.

I turned off the highway just before I entered the city and started down the side roads that les to Isabela's house. As I approached a small crossroads, I saw a woman step into the street directly in front of my car. I shrieked in fright and slammed on my brakes, praying I would miss her.

The car skidded to a halt, and I looked frantically around for the woman. Then I saw her, right beside my window, looking in at me. She had the face of a demon, twisted, eyes glowing red, and short, pointed teeth.

I screamed as she leapt at my window, her clawed hands striking the glass. I jammed my foot down on the accelerator and the car lurched forward. For a few terrible moments, she ran alongside the vehicle, keeping up easily and striking at me again and again.

Finally she fell behind, but in the rearview mirror I saw her growing taller and taller, untill she was a large as a tree, red light swirled around her like mist, and she pointed in my direction, her mouth moving, though I could not make out the words. I jerked my attention back to the road, afraid of what might happen to me if my car ran off the street.

I made it to Isabela's house in record time and flung myself out of the car, pounding on her door frantically and looking behind me to see if the demon-faced woman had followed me. Isabela came running to the door and let me in.

"Shut the door! Shut it!" I cried frantically, brushing past her into the safety of the house.
"Jane, what's wrong?" she asked, slamming the door shut. She grabbed my hand and led me into the living room. I sank onto the couch and started sobbing in fear and shock. After several minutes, I managed to stammer out my story. Isabela gasped and said, "Are you sure you were at a crossroads when you saw her?"
I nodded, puzzled by her question.
"It must have been La Mala Hora," Isabela said, wringing her hands.
"The evil hour?" I asked, interpreting ths Spanish as best I could.
"This is bad, Jane. Very bad," Isabela cried. "La Mala Hora only appears at a crossroads when someone is going to die."