George Torres

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ID: GeorgeTorresS I never believed in witchcraft until I spent a weekend in Catemaco, Veracruz. It was in late August, when the mist from the lake rises like ghosts over the water. I went there with two friends — Diego and Fernanda — just to get away from the city. We’d heard all the stories about the “brujos” of Catemaco, but we thought it was just tourist stuff. That first night, we stayed at a small cabin near the lagoon. The old man who rented it to us told us to avoid walking near the water after midnight. “There’s a woman who calls your name,” he said. “If you answer, she takes you into the lake.” We laughed it off. But around 2 a.m., I woke up to the sound of footsteps outside. Then a soft knocking on the window. When I looked, I saw a woman standing near the shore. Her dress was white, wet, and clinging to her skin. Her hair covered her face, but she was whispering — something that sounded like my name. I thought maybe it was Fernanda playing a prank, but when I turned around, both she and Diego were still asleep. The whispering got louder. Then I heard it clearly: “Come with me.” I froze. The air turned cold. The smell of sulfur and wet earth filled the cabin. The woman began to walk backward into the water, without turning around. Her reflection didn’t move the same way — it stayed, smiling at me. The next morning, the old man looked at us like he already knew. He said every year, someone staying near the lagoon sees her — La Bruja del Agua. According to local stories, she was once a witch who tried to control the spirits of the lake. But the ritual went wrong, and the spirits dragged her under. Now, she looks for another soul to take her place. We left Catemaco that afternoon. But even now, sometimes when I pass by still water, I swear I hear her whisper again — “Come with me.”