My entry for the Supernatural Writing Contest(SWC) by @jerrybanfield.
Although Mexico is full of paradisiacal places, there is one that instead of pleasure produces terror: the Island of the Dolls. In the middle of a swamp, the heads of plastic babies hang from the trees or from the roofs of houses. And many tourists visit the place to find out who inhabited it and how it died.
My story begins when I was 12 years old, my mother traveled to a sister's house and since she was only going to stay one night she decided to leave me under the care of my older sister of 16 years, we lived for that moment in Xochimilco, heavenly place near Mexico D.F. On the morning of that Saturday, my sister and her friends decided that it was an adventure to visit the islet that, to describe it, causes fear and terror among labyrinthine canals and small wild islands decorated by old dolls that a subject who lived on that island collected from garbage cans.
These dolls were hanging from the trees and roof of his rustic house, since my sister had to take care of me and thinking that this would not affect me decided to take me with her, a mistake which she still regrets despite so many years and is that because of that youthful mischief my life is still affected by what I saw but even more than what I perceived as soon as I stepped on that spot, I immediately started to hear cries and laments and when I told my sisters this and her friends told me it was my imagination, after I started to feel gusts of wind she and her friends also felt it, but I heard whispers in my ears, I was already entering something that by that time I did not know how to call it and today I know it was a depression, my eyes They began to fill with tears and my heart with sadness.
The most chilling was to happen just an hour away from being there and as we approached the house while everyone swore to see dolls hanging from the ceiling I saw a girl about 6 or 7 years old with the dirty and ugly doll in her arms, I could not I fell on my knees and went into shock, I swear they spoke to me and according to my sister I did not attend or understand, they took me from the place but I did not know if I walked or they loaded me, I only saw the dolls in my head moving my eyes but not they had eyes only dark hollos.
I left that trance on my way home but not from the depression I was wrapped in my sister's arms and being consoled by her friends, but my sister's greatest fear was my mother's scolding for her insolence, she thought that when she arrived at home and be with my things I would calm down and return to my normal life, but it was not like that I could not see my dolls that I still had as a child on the shelves of my room, I could not sleep because when I closed my eyes I saw the girl and broke into tears and despair, a night of terror embraced my sister alone and without my mother, as I missed her.
When my mom arrived home the next day she knew immediately that something was happening because I was sitting and without moving on the sofa and did not go out to receive her, she was looking for answers to my behavior and my sister had to tell what had happened, Of course mom got very upset, and afterwards her priority was me, what happened to me, how to help me and when I could not do it and talk to one of my school teachers and the educational psychologist, she suggested that I seek professional help.
I lost the account of the psychologists and psychiatrists that I saw in those three years, we also visited exoteric sorcerers and professionals of the paranormal, of course everyone knew the cure of what was happening to me, some said that my head was playing a joke for the experience lived, the others that were messages that wanted to give me those appearances and voices, all curious to say they knew and swear what happened to me but none could cure it or rather their methods could not make an effect.
My mother is of Venezuelan origin, divorced decided to put land in the middle and return to her country of origin, the poor thought that it would help me even more I still have the same nightmares, if 25 years of this traumatic experience, now I live in Bogota, even I suffer from depression and tell this to people only demeans me because they all tell me to know that it would help me, that I do a mass for the souls in pain, that if I was blessed by a priest with holy water, I just told you what I saw and it was not a game in my head, I know what I perceived and I know I'm not crazy, today I'm a dentist and in my free time I like to read and write a little.
(SWC)