Local Legends: La Sayona

After my previous post about La Llorona I was made aware of a similar figure from Venezuela known as La Sayona.

As with La Llorona, there are many variations of the La Sayona legend.

One version I found speaks of a woman who lost her children in a house fire. Her husband wasn’t there to help as he was off having an affair with another woman. Legend now says that la sayona lures unloyal, married men in the form of a beautiful, young woman. She then turns into a hideously, burned old woman and kills them. Frightening, eh?

Another more detailed version speaks of a jealous woman married to a loving man. The two have a young boy together. One day the woman is swimming in a nearby river when she notices a man watching her. This happens a few more times over the course of the next few days. Finally, she confronts the man, who tells her that he is there to warn her.

"Your husband is having an affair with your mother," he says.

In a jealous rage she runs home and sets fire to the house, killing both her husband and her son.

She then goes to her mother’s house where she stabs her mother several times in the stomach. It is then, as her mother begins to die, that she learns the truth.

There was no affair. The man by the river had viciously lied to her.

With her last breaths, her mother curses her, dooming her to avenge any woman betrayed by her husband.

And thus La Sayona was born.

So think about that next time you considering cheating, boys. ;-)

A big thanks to Tumblr user @teojansen for reblogging my original post and bringing this legend to my attention.

GHOSTLY VIDEOS: Security Cam Attack

This video (which has gone viral) appears to show a man being attacked by a shadowy entity in a hallway. Real ghost or hoax? You decide.

Local Legends: La Llorona

Growing up in South Texas, I heard about la llorona a lot. All of us did. She was a figure that haunted our childhood dreams and who we spoke of in hushed tones on the playground.

Most of us had heard the story from our parents or grandparents…or on occasion from a cruel cousin who wanted to make us wet our pants. (And believe me, we ALL had that cousin who was dick enough to tell us this story while babysitting.)

This is the way I remember hearing the story:

Once, long ago, there was a woman named Maria. She lived with her two children in a small town along the Mexican border. Her husband had run off on her years before, leaving her to raise the two kids on her own.

One day Maria met a rich man from the other side of the border. The two instantly fell in love and marriage seemed inevitable.

That is until he found out about Maria’s children.

You see, the man did not think it proper to marry a woman with two kids and raise them as his own. Distraught, Maria took her two kids to the nearby river and drowned them. Thinking this would solve the issue, she returned to the man to tell him that the children were no longer a problem. Upon hearing of her wicked deed, he cast her off in disgust.

Realizing what she had done, Maria returned to the river and drowned herself out of remorse.

Legend says that her spirit now forever walks near the river, searching for her lost children as she cries out “¡ay mis hijos!" (Oh my children!)

To this day, Hispanic children are warned not to go out at night or else la llorona may mistake them for one of her children and take them!

Needless to say, I was always home well before the sun went down.

A few words from the beyond…

Hello fellow insomniacs and screamers!

I just wanted to welcome all of our new followers as well as let everyone know that I’m working on some new posts that should be up soon.

In the meantime, I would love to hear some of your own stories!

Part of the reason I created 365 Days of Terror was to provide an outlet for others to share their encounters with no fear of ridicule or judgement. We are all here because we either believe or at the very least have an open mind so feel free to share your personal encounters, your family legends, and even the stories native to your area.

To submit a story, click here.

And if you think you have what it takes to be a “crypt keeper” like me, e-mail me at 365daysofterror@gmail.com.

Hope to hear from you soon!

Pleasant nightmares,


The Ghost Chonricles: 9/3/14 (Weds)

I was killing sometime before rehearsals yesterday and was playing a little Skyrim in the living room. My roommate was nearby on his computer.

We were both just sitting there doing our thing when we both heard my bedroom door slam shut.

[ Now for those of you who have been following me, you know that this is a common occurrence when I’m alone but rarely does it happen when others are around. ]

My roommate’s immediate response was: "What was that?"

I laughed before answering.

"My bedroom door."

He  sat there for a minute and then replied, "Okay…", as though waiting for me to explain further.

I just smiled and went back to playing Skyrim, leaving him completely puzzled.

I love it when things happens in front of others. ;-)

"How would you like to make a deal?"

The creepiest thing happened at work last Friday.

Looking back, it’s pretty funny - in one of those creepy kind of ways - but at the time it was one of those “Fuck this shit, I’m outta here!” kind of moments.

So as I’ve mentioned before, I work an office job at a major bookstore. To get to the break room (and my office) you have to walk alongside the store’s cafe towards the rear of the store.

Last Friday as I was making this walk, I noticed this guy (late 20s/early 30s, Caucasian, kinda sleazy looking with short blond hair) sitting at the table right next to the break room door. As I approached the door, I noticed he had been eyeballing me as I made my way over.

I didn’t think much about it at the time other than, “Okay, creeper. You can stop staring now.”

Well right as I get to the door and begin to punch in my pass code, I hear this voice go, "Hey. Hey you."

I look over and it’s Sleazy Guy.

"You a writer?"

I kinda look at him with that deer in the headlights look before I reply, "Yes."

"What do you write? You write books?"

"Mainly short stories," I answered, wondering where the hell this was going. "Sometimes screenplays and plays."

"You ever have anything published?"


"But you’re aiming for the stars right? Looking to make it big?"

Right as he said that, I got this really weird chill. You know the one I’m talking about where it feels like someone is running a cold finger down your spine.

Right then I thought to myself, “GET AWAY. NOW.”

As if he had read my mind, he smiled this creepy smile at me and said, "I’ve got just the story for you." He then leaned back in his chair and said in this creepy voice, "How would you like to make a deal?"

It was at this moment that I said to myself, “I’m outta here”, and quickly excused myself into the break room.

It wasn’t until later when I really began to process the interaction that I began to wonder why he had singled me out of everyone else there and more importantly…how he had known I was a writer.

Though it’s a little funny to look back on, part of me wonders if I may have met the Devil himself, offering me fame and fortune in exchange for something else…

I mean, can you get any more cliche than…

"How would you like to make a deal?

"Bookstore Shenanigans"

During my breaks at work I like to walk the floor of the store. I do this for two reasons:

  1. It gets the blood flowing in my legs after sitting sitting at a desk for hours on end and…
  2. It keeps me warm.

And believe me, I need the warmth. My office is colder than a northern lake in the dead of winter. No lie.

[ For those of you that don’t know, I work an office/administrative job at a bookstore here in town. ]

Today while taking one of my walks I noticed a jumble of books strewn about the floor of one of the upstairs aisles.

This didn’t strike me as odd because it was something I’d always seen in the store. Customers frequently pick books off the shelf and leave them around the store in small stacks. However, I did find it a little odd that they were all copies of the same book and that they were thrown about instead of in their usual stacks. Messes like this are only common in the kid’s department, not the rest of the store.

I put the books back on the shelf and muttered to myself something about the poor manners of some people and walked away.

Later as I was walking around the store again I said to myself something along the lines of "Wouldn’t it be weird if I found the books all over the floor again?"

Sure enough, as I came around the corner, the SAME books were thrown all over the place!

I quickly put them away and joked to a nearby bookseller that we had a ghost in the store. She laughed and we started talking about how awesome that would be when there was a loud crash behind us. We quickly turned around and all of the books were on the floor AGAIN!

We quickly picked them up and booked it out of there, laughing at ourselves the entire time.

It looks as though we may have a ghost that either hates booksellers or really hates that book.

Welcome to the newly updated 365 Days of Terror!

The new pages which can be accessed are:

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Contact me at 365daysofterror@gmail.com or on here!

"Grandma’s House"

As a kid, my grandmother’s house was like a second home to me.

My parents had divorced while I was still quite young and as a result we ended up moving in with her for a few years. Even after we moved out, we spent a lot of time there.

Some of my earliest memories, in fact, are of waking up to the sounds and smells of my grandmother cooking in the kitchen, her television set to her favorite novela or talk show.

The house was very old and as a kid, there were a lot of things about it that gave me the heebie jeebies. 

The bathroom, for example, only had a standing shower with metal walls so old and full of grime that they had become black. As a kid I was scared shitless of those walls. And don’t get me started on the shower floor. It was just as old and gross and when it rained, worms would crawl up through the drain.

Needless to say, I bathed in the kitchen sink for most of my childhood.

It was in this house, however, that my love for all things paranormal began.

I fondly recall sitting around, listening to my grandmother and my uncles as they told stories about such characters as la llorona and la lechuza. Of soaking wet women who begged for rides near large bodies of water and later vanished.

It was during these storytimes that I learned about the old woman that haunted the house.

According to my uncles, she could be seen cooking in the kitchen or moving about the dining room, going about her business as though no one else lived in the house. She appeared to be a regular old woman…except for the fact that she moved about the house as though she were hanging from a rope.

As you can imagine, I spent my entire childhood avoiding her.

There were other stories too. Stories of curanderas who could cure you of an illness with herbs and folk magic and of brujas who took on the form of owls and sought revenge against others using black magic.

Through these stories I gained a respect for a world seldom seen and I also learned that some things are best left alone.


Sometime during my pre-teens, my grandmother’s house was demolished and rebuilt. Dozens of years of history wiped out by bulldozers and workers that had yet to exist when it was first built.

During the demolition the front door was the last thing to come down. It managed to stand erect with no visible support for a few minutes before it fell. It was as if though the house was saying farewell to those of us who had grown up in the house. Or giving the demolition workers the finger. Take your pick.

The new house was up within a few months and the first thing to greet my family upon their return was the ringing of a phone…that had yet to be connected.


As time went on, I spent less and less time at grandma’s house. I just never felt as comfortable in the new house. Maybe it lacked the history of the old house. Maybe the old woman we feared as kids was watching over us the entire time and had moved on after the old house was destroyed. Who knows. All I know is that my love for the unknown began in that house and I would never change that for one second.

The Ghost Chronicles: 7/24/14 (Thurs)

Sat down tonight to write out the post about yesterday’s Bluetooth speaker incident.

I’m halfway through the post when I hear the sound of the front door opening and closing. This is followed by the sound of footsteps throughout the apartment and doors opening and closing.

I assume it’s my roommate Josh and continue working on the post.

Later, I peek my head out the door to say “hello” only to realize that no one is home.

I’ve now become so accustomed to hearing noises in this apartment while alone that I’m never sure who’s on the other side of the door…

The Ghost Chronicles: 7/23/14 (Weds)

After talking with a few friends, I have decided to start a record of all the activity occurring in my current apartment.

I will chronicle each event, as it occurs, in a straightforward manner.

This first documented event occurred yesterday, the 23rd of July.


Went to take a shower today. As usual, I set up my Bluetooth speaker on the bathroom counter so that I can play some music through my iPhone.

I’m in the shower for a few minutes when suddenly I hear a crash on the other side of the door. Peeking my head out of the shower, I see that my speaker has fallen off the counter and on to the floor. Thinking that I’ve set it too close to the edge, I re-set it about a foot away from the edge.

This seems like a good distance. No chance of it slipping off again from the sound vibration.

I step back in to the shower and forget all about it.

No more than a few seconds go by before something comes flying at the shower door. Whatever it is bounces off and rolls away. I peek out and see that once again it is the speaker.

This time it has traveled a distance of at least four feet.

Something tells me it isn’t the vibration.

Does anyone know the significance of seeing owls in your window?

Lately I’ve been having dreams that feature owls peeking in through my window. Now I know that this image is significant in abduction lore as many alien abuductees recall seeing owls outside their window prior to being taken but I wanted to see if this “image” had any significance outside of UFO lore.


The following story was told to a friend by one of his co-workers.

This is their story:

Growing up, Damian and his best friend would always play basketball in the old, abandoned lot next to his house. The lot, which had once been the site of a large mansion, was now nothing more than a concrete foundation and an old basketball hoop that the neighborhood kids would use during their free time.

Those who grew up in the area used to tell stories about the house that had stood there. According to these stories, it had belonged to a wealthy family and had once been the largest house on the street. The house had burned down several years prior and there had been rumors that someone had actually perished in the fire.

As with other stories that kid’s tell, Damian and his friend had passed the stories off as nothing more than local urban legends.

One day, Damian’s friend came over to his house with a Ouija board in hand. The two began to play with it and after awhile started a conversation with the board.

They asked the board if it could identify who they were speaking to. The board spelled out "Ethel".

Naturally they wanted to know to know more about Ethel but all they could get was that she had died in a fire.

Damian later did some investigating of his own at the local library. While going through old newspaper articles, he found something that caught his eye. It was an article about the mansion that had burned to the ground on the lot next to his house. Apparently the fire had happened while the family was away on vacation. Sadly, the family’s maid had stayed behind and had thus perished in the fire.

The maid’s name was Ethel.

From that day forward, they would speak to Ethel through the board daily and she would tell them details about her life. Eventually, as kids are wont to do, they grew tired of the board and stopped playing.

One day, sometime after, Damian’s mom came to pick him up from school. On the ride home, she asked him if he happened to know a woman by the name of Ethel.

Curious, Damian replied, "No, why do you ask?"

His mom explained that a woman by the name of Ethel had called the house several times asking for Damian. He was a bit shocked and told his mom about the board and the maid. They both dismissed it as nothing more than a coincidence and forgot all about it.

Later one evening, Damian was home alone when the phone rang. He went to pick it up and noticed something strange about the caller id. The number on the caller id was listed as unknown but the name Ethel appeared on the screen.

A chill went down his spine.

Rather than answer it, he let the phone continue to ring.

From that day forward the phone would ring daily.  Each time the caller id would list Ethel as the caller. Eventually it became a running joke amongst the family. The phone would ring and someone would immediately say, "Ethel’s calling again!".

The family never answered any of Ethel’s calls and eventually they stopped.

To this day Damian wonders what Ethel might have said had he ever answered.

Then again, maybe it’s best he’ll never know.

Who was behind the strange calls? Was it a prank? A coincidence? Or was it really Ethel calling from beyond the grave? We will never know.