Chronicles & chill #3

Year: 2001

Where: Mexico

Encounter: Phantom Horse & The Phone

(This story was emailed to me)

So, I ended up staying at my relatives’ place because I kept getting into trouble back home. I’m from a big city—the capital of Mexico, to be exact. My school was wild, full of people who loved to party, hook up, and stir up drama. Hookup culture was huge, and pretty much everyone dated everyone else, which, of course, led to a lot of chaos.

That’s how I got caught in a love triangle with a girl and some other guy who was a known “supplier.” When things went south, I had to hide or risk losing my life over this girl. My parents sent me to stay with my relatives, who owned an agave farm—a family business in a very old town. These farms had been around since the days of wars between the Aztecs and the Spaniards, so hearing ghost stories about the area wasn’t new to me. But I’d never actually seen anything—until that night.

About a month after I arrived, that girl somehow got my relatives’ number and called. I still don’t know how she found it, but I answered. She sounded so happy to hear my voice and said she missed me and still loved me. I was stunned. I thought she hated me for all the drama back home, but she assured me that everyone knew she chose me. She wanted to see me, so we made plans for me to leave in two days. I was over the moon. All I could think about at work was her—her face, her laugh, everything.

That night, we all went to bed early. I didn’t even wait for 9 PM; I was exhausted and just wanted to sleep. I laid there in the dark, thinking about her. I could almost hear her laugh—so vivid, it was like she was right there. I started to drift off, replaying memories of us at parties, sharing drinks, and hanging out by the pool. The music, the smell of cigarettes, the chlorine—all of it felt so real.

Then, far off in the distance, I heard horses. Not one or two, but many, walking down the cobblestone streets. The sound grew louder and louder, cutting through the happy memories. The laughter in my head turned to arguing—at first, a woman’s voice I didn’t recognize. Then the horses started to gallop, getting closer, and the arguing turned to screams. It was her voice, pleading for help.

The sound of hooves was right outside my window, and her screams twisted into the screams of a man. There were other voices too—many of them—but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. The horses galloped past, and the noise slowly faded, leaving me paralyzed with fear. I couldn’t move a muscle, every part of me clenched in terror. In that moment, I prayed silently, begging my guardian angels for protection—to keep me safe from whatever was out there. I lay there for what felt like hours, trying to calm down, until exhaustion finally pulled me under.

The next morning, my body ached like I’d been hit by a truck. I was still rattled but determined to leave that weekend. When I went to the kitchen around 7 AM, the phone rang—almost like it was waiting for me. I picked up, and it was her, talking about how excited she was to see me. She mentioned a pool party our mutual friend was throwing, said everyone knew I was coming back, and they were planning a huge celebration.

That’s when my heart dropped. A pool party? Everyone knows? It was 7 AM, but I could hear music and noise in the background, which felt strange. I thought they must have partied hard that night and was still going.

That night, I didn’t hear anything else. I slept hard and woke up to my mom’s laugh on Saturday morning. My parents had come to pick me up, and they were so proud of me for working hard. I didn’t tell them about my plan to leave—I just went along with it.

But, of course, being Mexican, leaving right away was out of the question. First, we had to eat, then get bread for coffee, then eat again when the neighbors showed up. By the time we were finally ready to go, it was late, and we stayed another night. I wasn’t thrilled, but I figured I’d be home soon enough.

We finally left the next morning, and as soon as I got home, I rushed to the phone to call Estella. No answer. I called a friend, and he answered, sounding frantic. He told me that the night before, a huge fight broke out at the party. The guy who’d been looking for me showed up high and armed, trying to start something. Estella broke up the fight but ended up leaving with him. They were stopped by the police downtown, and the guy was arrested for having drugs and a gun. Estella was escorted home by the police.

If I’d been there, who knows what could’ve happened. My friend said it was probably better that I stayed away. Estella disappeared after that—someone said her parents sent her to Los Angeles. I never heard from her again. Looking back, it felt like my prayers for protection had been answered. My parents showing up out of nowhere felt like divine intervention, keeping me from leaving and walking straight into danger.

Here’s the part that still gives me chills, I found out later that the phone I answered at my relatives’ house—the one where I took her call—wasn’t even connected. It was an old rotary phone, just hanging on the wall because the nails were too deep to bother with. My uncle didn’t even have a phone line which is why my parents showed up without calling. There was nowhere to call, all calls went to our aunts who lived down the road!

To this day, I wonder if that call was real, or if something or someone was trying to warn me to stay away. Maybe it was my guardian angels protecting me. Whatever it was, that probably saved my life.