More Things that Go Bump in the Night – La Llorona

JR Madrid and I were on patrol one night when one of the Antonito Police officers called for backup. He needed help looking for someone down by the creek just outside of town. We responded, and he’s out there with a flashlight looking around, trying to find whatever was causing the sound. It seems someone had reported to him hearing someone wailing down by the creek just outside of town.

 Of course, there was nothing there, so we said, “Oh, they probably heard La Llorona.”

“The what?” His went wide.

“La Llorona.” JR’s face was dead serious. We figured someone was yanking his chain, so we were going to go along with the joke. “She’s the ghost of a woman who wanders the stream banks of rivers and streams in the southwest looking for her drowned children.”

The officer, not native to these here parts and unfamiliar with the legend, turned white as a sheet, got in his car, and drove away. Seeing that he didn’t have a particle accelerator strapped on his back, he wisely decided he was no match for a ghost.

JR and I were familiar with the sound. Born into the age of science and reason, we knew it was the sound of the wind blowing through the trees and willows. We also knew it was a popular prank to pull on the unsuspecting and that the Antonito officer was probably the butt of someone’s joke. But having heard that mournful wail through the willows, and even knowing what causes it, it’s enough to make the hair stand up on the back of your neck. For an instant, reason is stripped away and your mind is left defenseless to a brief moment of gut wrenching panic as you brush up against something ancient and unknown.  

Then you chuckle, smile to yourself, and keep on going.

There’s several stories about who she was, and what happened. Some stories say she and her children were died in a flood. Others say she drowned her children and let their bodies float away. The stories all agree that when she reached the Gates of Heaven, she was unable to account for her children’s whereabouts and was denied entry.  

Now she’s doomed to forever wander the river banks looking for them, a ghost suspended between life and eternity.

It seems a lot of cultures have a similar story in their lore.

In my next novel, Dead Friends, at an event called the Last Supper, while everyone is eating their meal, they hear that dreadful cry rise up from around the river. Will and RJ don’t even blink, but Jonesy and Andy, unfamiliar with legend stand up, hands on the butts of their pistols.

That’s when RJ and Will tell the story. Will takes it a step further, adding that some of the old timers have whispered that her cry heralds the approach of death of someone they know.  

The next day, that comes to pass.

It’s also becomes the springboard for a story involving Will and Jonesy that I relate in the novel, and mention on this blog as well. It’s a true story, (check it out here)  but one I’ll deny ever happened.

Between the two, I’ll take the La Llorona. At least I can explain her away!