Chương 185: Chapter 185
The small Mexican town of Xochimilco had a reputation for being quiet, hidden among the dense trees, hills, and overgrown paths that twisted in strange ways. It was peaceful, or at least that's what it seemed on the surface. The locals said it was a place where things happened that no one talked about. No one was ever able to explain why the people who disappeared from Xochimilco were never found again.
Ten years ago, a group of teenagers went out on a walk one evening, near the edges of town. Their families were used to the kids roaming, but this time, they never came back. At first, there were search parties. The police, neighbors, and even strangers from faraway places scoured the forest and fields. But after days, weeks, and months, all hope faded, and the search was called off. The group was gone, and no one could explain it.
There were rumors—whispers of things moving in the dark, of shadows that were too quick to be real, and eyes that followed the searchers. But nobody spoke openly. People knew what happened, or at least, they thought they knew. Sometimes, the truth was more frightening than anything you could imagine.
Then, on an autumn evening ten years later, they came back.
The sky was overcast, and the wind was cold as the first signs of fall began to show. It was the quietest day in Xochimilco in years. No one expected it. They appeared on the main road near the town square, not a sound to warn anyone, no footsteps or voices. At first, they were a blur in the distance, and people weren't sure if they were real.
But when they were close enough to be seen, people realized something was horribly wrong.
The group was the same—five of them, identical to the way they'd been a decade ago. Their clothes were the same, faded from time but still recognizable. Their faces—still young, still beautiful in the way young people are, frozen in a strange sort of innocence. But there was nothing else like it. They weren't human anymore, not in the way they once were.
None of them moved or reacted to the townspeople. They stood in the middle of the street, staring blankly, their eyes wide open, but there was nothing behind them. It was like they weren't looking at anything, like they didn't even register that the world was around them. Their bodies were stiff, unnatural, as if their joints refused to bend, like they had forgotten how to move.
There were no tears, no screams, no joy in their return. Just an eerie, unshakable silence. They didn't speak, nor did they respond to the people who had gathered.
A man named Andrés, who had been a teenager when the group vanished, approached them. His heart raced, and his breath was shallow as he neared. The faces of his old friends—his former classmates—seemed unchanged, but there was something about them, something that made him want to turn and run as far away from them as he could.
"Luz?" he called. The girl who had been his best friend was standing in the front. "Luz... are you okay?"
Her head tilted slightly, but there was nothing in her eyes. She didn't blink. She didn't react. The sound of Andrés' voice seemed to fall on deaf ears. His hands shook as he reached out, gently touching her arm.
It was cold. Colder than any human body should be. He froze in shock as the sensation spread through his hand. The skin was soft, but it was dead, like the body wasn't alive anymore. He pulled back, looking at the others. None of them moved or showed any sign of life.
But then, in the dead silence, a low hum began to build from somewhere inside the group. It wasn't a song, or anything that could be easily identified, but it filled the air with a buzzing pressure that made the hairs on Andrés' neck stand up. The sound came from all five of them, like they were connected by something deeper, something otherworldly.
Suddenly, one of the girls—Carla, who had been the most energetic of them all when they'd been alive—fell to her knees. Her hands gripped the sides of her head, her fingers digging into her scalp as though trying to tear it off. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Her face twisted in a way that made Andrés want to look away, but he couldn't move.
Then, the others reacted. They all started to scream, but their voices were muffled, distorted, like something was trying to keep the sound from escaping. It was like hearing a scream under water, a noise that was so wrong, so horrible that it almost made him fall to his knees.
Luz, standing at the front, twitched. She collapsed to the ground, and her body shuddered. But even as she fell, her eyes remained wide open, her face frozen.
Andrés felt the ground shake beneath him. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the group, even though every inch of him screamed for him to leave.
And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the noise stopped. They were silent again, and the group remained kneeling, unmoving.
A few of the townspeople gathered the courage to approach, though none of them dared touch the kids again. They tried speaking to them, asking them questions. But there was no answer, no movement, nothing. They were gone in the way that someone is gone when they can't remember who they are.
It didn't take long for the word to spread. People from other villages came to Xochimilco, drawn by the spectacle of the five teenagers who had vanished and returned without aging, but now with the blank, unknowing expression of those who had forgotten what it meant to be alive.
The authorities were called, but they couldn't help either. The teenagers were taken to a medical facility, where doctors tried to figure out what had happened to them, but no tests brought any answers. It was as if something had reached into their minds and destroyed whatever was left inside.
As the days passed, the teens—now unable to speak or move on their own—were watched over by their families. But no one could bring them back to life. Luz, Carla, and the others never showed any sign of recognition. They would sit, unmoving, staring straight ahead. There were no tears in their eyes, no expressions of anger or fear. It was as if they were lost in a place beyond human understanding.
Over the next few weeks, Andrés found himself unable to stop visiting them. He'd sit by Luz's side and talk to her, even though she would never answer. Every time he asked if she remembered, she didn't react. But his voice started to crack, the words becoming more desperate. The others, too, were in their own state of silent horror, unable to move but somehow still alive.
André knew. He understood. The kids hadn't come back the same. Whatever had happened to them, whatever had kept them in that place for ten long years, had destroyed them in a way that no one could fix.
One evening, as Andrés sat by Luz's side, he felt a tremor run through her body. At first, he thought it was a sign of life, a sign that she could feel him, that she might somehow come back. He leaned in close, holding his breath.
But her eyes didn't flicker.
Her hand reached up, and she grabbed his wrist, squeezing so tight that it almost hurt. And then, without warning, she dragged him toward her, her mouth open as though she were going to scream. But nothing came out.
And then, she bit him.
She bit deep, tearing through his flesh as though she had no awareness of what she was doing. Andrés cried out in pain, but the sound was muffled by the pressure on his neck. He struggled, his hands going to her hair, pulling, trying to break free.
But it was too late. Luz's teeth sunk deeper, and Andrés knew, even as his blood drained, that there was no escape from this. He was going to disappear, like the others. He would never see another day.
The last thing he saw before everything went dark was Luz's cold, empty eyes. She stared at him as she fed, but there was nothing in those eyes. Just the hollow, brutal emptiness of what had returned in their place.
Tình trạng nguồn điện hàng tuần
-- Xếp hạng
Quyền lực 
-- Đá
Quyền lực