304 North Cardinal St.
Dorchester Center, MA 02124
304 North Cardinal St.
Dorchester Center, MA 02124
In the spring of 2001, a 16-year-old boy, whom we’ll call José, and three friends set off on a fishing expedition to a lake near their homes in Mexico. What they encountered on that strange day – and what happened to José – has puzzled and haunted them ever since. This is José’s story:
The wind was blowing quite strongly that spring morning, stirring up dust and creating a cloudy atmosphere. Three friends and I were going fishing. We set off on foot from my house to a lake that was about three miles or so away.
The sun had just risen and the wind howled and combed the sea of dry grass that we walked through. We all carried the essentials: the fishing gear, of course, knives, food, snacks and a tent. We had planned to spend the night at the fishing spot, but with the north air whistling loudly and the dry dust beating our tired faces, we decided not to camp, but just fish for the day.
On the way to the lake, we chatted about everyday things as we walked. After a couple of hours or so, we finally reached the lake. Unfortunately, the wind was still blowing strongly, and the dark lake rolled with violent waves that lashed the rocky shore ferociously. We walked around the bleak body of water looking for a good spot to fish, a task that lasted more than an hour.
When we finally decided on the perfect spot, a gust of wind struck us so violently that one of my friends and I were knocked off our feet. My head struck a boulder behind me and I clearly felt the back of my head getting wet. I reached back and touched it, and was surprised to find no blood.
I asked the guys to look and see if I was bleeding from or a cut or something, but they all answered that I wasn’t. One of the guys even touched the spot on my head with a piece of paper, but no trace of blood came off. Strangely, the back of my head still felt wet. I passed it off as just the sensation of the blow to my head combined with the chilly wind.
We began to throw the lures and we fished for a few hours. We caught some fish and ate our lunch. The wind made it impossible to start a fire, and as the sun was hiding behind the gray, desolate clouds and the mountains, I suggested to my friends that it was a good idea to head home. They all agreed, so we packed up our stuff and started on the three-mile walk back to my house. That return trip turned out to be a bizarre odyssey.
We had spent too much time packing up the gear and getting ready to leave. The sun had set and night was a few minutes away now. There was a road we could follow about 500 meters away from us, but the straight way was shorter, much shorter.
The back of my head still felt kind of wet, and I told my buddies I was not feeling at all well. I begged them that we should take the road, even though it was longer. In case something happened to me, we could flag down a passing car. But because taking the road would have added an extra hour to our trip, they neglected my demand.
We continued and came to a small hill. We climbed it and saw, at the bottom of the hill on the other side, a man. He was lying on the ground, motionless.
“He appeared to be dead…”
I thought the worst, and we rushed over to see how he was. He appeared to be dead, and his body even began to emit a repulsive odor. He looked old, around five feet tall and was dressed formally. We speculated that he had been murdered and his body placed here.
It was then that I distinctly felt someone touching the back of my cold head, and a strong gust blew.
The old man suddenly opened its eyes! They looked orange or red orange, and they seemed to cry blood. He blinked two times and opened his mouth, filling the cold air with an unworldly stench. The back of my head seemed wet, really wet now, but I still did not feel any blood. My friends and I were so startled that we began to run like hell.
I heard one of my friends shout, “It’s coming this way!” His voice was that of a horrified, crying young man. I turned around and saw the blazing red eyes of the little man “floating” at us like headlights.
Then the tattered clouds decided it was time to rain. The wind made the water so cold that it was painful to our heads and faces as we ran. We were still about two miles from my house, and it was getting dark. We kept running, confused and frightened.
I heard one of my friends shout, “It’s coming this way!” His voice was that of a horrified, crying young man. I turned around and saw the blazing red eyes of the little man “floating” at us like headlights. I tripped and fell again, but my friends kept running. I just curled up on the ground, closed my eyes and began grabbing stones, horrified.
Then I felt the strong wind and rain hit my back, and the mud covering me. I gathered enough courage to look back… and saw nothing. My friends had stopped about 100 meters ahead, had turned and were shouting at me in panic.
I stood up and just as I lifted my head, my eyes met the staring red eyes of the old man. I was paralyzed and just stood there, gazing back at him. His eyes then appeared to look to the side, as if pointing me. The little man pointed to my right, and I began slowly walking in that direction. His eyes… it seemed to me then that they were not evil after all.
I walked after this “man” for some minutes. He stopped and pointed at the lake. He looked back at me, just as the rain was stopping and the wind settled to a breeze. I felt an arm touch my back, then push me so hard that I fell and fainted.
When I woke up, I was in the hospital with second-degree burns. The pain was intolerable. The doctors could not explain how I was burned. I was told that a hunter found me on the mountain more than eight miles from that lake! I could not believe it, and still I can’t.
The hunter said he saw a light atop the hill and went to check it out. He claimed to have seen a metal disk in the air, hovering and then disappearing over the horizon. When he found me, I had signs of strange cuts, as if from knives, and I had a wound in my chest, as if I had undergone surgery.
The day I had gone “fishing” was a Saturday, and the hunter found me on a Wednesday. When I was discovered, I did not have a shirt on and only one shoe. My friends claim they ran when they saw those eyes and then a mirror-like reflection of shiny metal on the lakeshore. They told my parents and many other people what had happened, but were ridiculed and blamed for my absence.
They are horrified now, and so am I, wondering what happened that day.
Since receiving this story from “José,” we have asked him to verify the story and to give his current thoughts about the events of that day. His response:
“I have not told anyone about the disk. Only my friends know about that and they did not tell anyone. My burn marks, everyone thinks, is from a lightning bolt. Maybe it was, but my mind plays with me. I am not sure what happened.
“I am sure I recall seeing a disk, and the man with the fiery eyes was pretty weird. My other three friends also did see those things. One person we’ve told the story to thinks we were drugged or drunk.
“I am not sure what to believe, but the mark on my stomach was not caused by a rock or something. It is too precise to be accidental. I am somewhat skeptical about many things. Maybe it was a dream. I cannot know.”