Prologue: The Story’s of Nightmares
The gloaming hour of dusk had settled across the forested canyon, and with that looming darkness came thick, gray clouds that blocked out what little light the moon provided.
The tavern stood at the edge of a small village, built at the foot of the ancient, brooding forest. The traveler arrived at the tavern as the sun was setting behind the dark, imposing ridgeline. Shadows fell across the valley as the traveler stepped into the tavern. His hood was pulled forward, hiding most of his face.
(Barkeep) "Welcome, what brings you here?"
The tavern was quiet, half a dozen locals grouped around the bar, talking quietly, sipping their drinks.
(The Traveler) "I have heard there is a cemetery not far from your village somewhere in the forest. A place of dark legends. I am on my way there."
His voice dry and a little more than a whisper from a long day's ride. The locals tensed; their eyes shifted in the direction of the traveler.
Paying them no mind, he took a seat at the edge of the bar as he muttered, "Water please."
As the bartender sets a glass of water in front of the man he continued to talk.
(Barkeep) "Of course, but my friend, I have lived in this village my whole life; not many believe the stories that are told about what lurks beyond our village, but you should believe them. I have seen things that if I had not seen, I would not believe."
(The Traveler) "Thank you." He said, drinking the water through dry, wind-bitten lips.
(Barkeep) "Please, sir, do not go in the forest. There are monstrous that lurk there ready to prey on anyone who comes close and the path there is frequented by terrifying creatures of nightmares. If you have traveled through Puebla, Mexico, you may have heard of one of the monstrous that roams these woods. Have you heard the tale of El Charro?"
The traveler gestured for a stronger drink before saying "Tell it to me." The barkeep obliged, fixing the drink as he began his tale.
There was a young man in our village, a miner like many of the folk who live here. He came into my tavern one night after a long day of hard work. Tired, sad, and sore from working with barely enough money to survive, he washed his misery away with a drink.
(Young Miner) "This world is unjust. All we do is toil and suffer and for what? I would give anything to be wealthy." He said his voice, thick with alcohol.
From outside we heard a horse on the cobblestone and a man entered. His fine suit was immaculate, despite the dusty winds blowing in from the west. He sat beside that poor young man.
(The Man in Black) "I can make all your wishes come true." He said whispering in his ear.
I warned him not to. That it was a deal with the devil himself. But the young man did not care that it would cost him his soul. So, he took the money. He spent it all on fine clothes, and good food. But he quickly realized that all the material wealth in the world was not worth his immortal soul, and so he tried to flee.
But he did not get far. At the cemetery he was caught by the devil, who bound his soul in hell. But the devil offered him a deal: if he can find someone who will take his coins, the poor unfortunate will take El Charro's place for a time. And so, El Charro, still wearing his fine clothes, lurks at deserted crossroads, and wanders the roads seeking those who take his coins.
(Barkeep) "He is one of the many terrors you might encounter on the road through these lands, sir."
(The Traveler) "I do not fear El Charro, gold does not tempt me." He said as he scoffed.
(Bartkeep) "That is well and good, sir, but there are other terrors in the night."
The other locals had pushed themselves away, muttering quietly over the drinks they were nursing.
(The Traveler) "What other terrors have you heard of that lurk in this long-forgotten cemetery beyond your village?"
(Barkeep) "Why, there is a creature far more dangerous even. Many cultures and countries from Guatemala to Costa Rica know of the hound we call El Cadejo." He said barely a whisper.
And even as he said the name, a howl echoed through the wooded valley. It startled the barkeep. The locals muttered quiet prayers as they shifted further from the traveler.
(The Traveler) "What have you heard of El Cadejo?"
The barkeep turned back to look at the traveler then, a glint of fear in his eyes.
(Barkeep) "Sir, it might be best to save these stories for the light of day."
(The Traveler) "A story has no more power in the night than it does under the sun, tell me of El Cadejo."
(Barkeep) "If you insist sir."
God created a great, white hound. A spirit. To help protect us mortals. They help guide our souls to the afterlife. But the Devil grew jealous and created his own. El Cadejo. A giant, black dog bent on hunting down those who have sinned.
Deep in the forest, a group of miners wandering home from a long day's work began to smell sulfur in the air, and the smell of what they thought was a goat. Then they heard strange noises and howling. By then it was too late. A great fear overtook them. From the shadows the creature struck. A great black hound. El Cadejo!
It tore several apart, and with such an all-consuming fear overwhelming their senses, the others fled into the woods and soon became lost. But the creature spends its time in cemeteries and wandering the wild.
It is a fiend of Hell. It lures people into evil and kills the innocent.
(The Traveler) "An interesting tale to be sure." He said finishing the drink before him.
(Barkeep) "It is a dark and horrible tale, are you still determined to seek out the cemetery in our forest?"
(The Traveler) "I am. But I wonder what other tales of horror you have heard?"
(Barkeep) "There are others, sir."
(The Traveler) "I am still weary from the road. What of another drink and, then a final story?"
(Barkeep) "There is a creature that is known by many names. El Cucuy, El Coco, El Cuco. Rumors of it in Spain and Portugal, but now it is a name whispered across all of Latin America."
(The Traveler) "Tell me of this monstruo."
(Barkeep) "If you insist." He said glumly.
It was early November when a family that lived on the edge of our village suffered a great tragedy. There were two children and their grandmother had just passed away... if only she had told her grandchildren the story of El Cucuy before she had passed on, they might have been more careful about playing after dark.
Thunder and torrential rain. It was the worst storm of our lifetimes. The creature appeared, a burlap sack with the squirming forms of children trapped inside. Its eyes glowing red but its form is hidden by the thick fog that had drifted in.
The children fled into their home, but the creature followed them, chasing them down the hall into their bedroom. Running for their room, they went to hide under the bed-but El Cucuy was waiting for them, with large, bloody claws, it grabbed them from their home screaming and shouting. Into its bag they went, the only sign of the creature was the blood of the missing children.
Some say El Cucuy, or El Coco eats the children, others say the monstruo kidnaps them and takes them away, never to be seen again. But no one knows what it truly looks like, for none who encounter it live.
(Barkeep) "You see, I know it's hard to believe, but we who have lived here, on the edge of the forest, we have seen these things."
(The Traveler) "I believe you."
(Barkeep) "Yet you are determined to find these monstrous yourself?"
The locals all, from the corner of their eyes, watched with baited breath, waiting for an answer. The traveler rose, slowly, his thick cloak flew back and in a quick motion, threw back his hood. His face, when revealed in the dim gas light of the inn, was skeletal and gaunt.
(The Traveler) "Yes, I know, monstrous are real. And that cemetery is filled with the bones of their victims. Do you remember my name?"
A chill fell over the locals, the hairs on the back of their necks rising in a palpable fear.
(Barkeep) "Remember your name? How could I, sir? We have never met."
The barkeep had broken into a cold sweat. Fear gripped his heart as he gazed into the empty eyes of the traveler.
The traveler laughed a slow, dry laugh.
(The Traveler) "You may not know my name, but we have met before-and we will meet again. You see once the game of life is over the king and pawn are returned to the same box. Death is a dreamless sleep."
The traveler turned, leaving coins on the counter, old golden coins from a bygone era, worth far more than the drinks he'd asked for. The clinking of the coins, dropping onto the bar was the only noise anyone could hear. A thick, desolate silence had fallen over the valley. The barkeep slunk backward, afraid of what he knew without knowing was about to come.
(The Traveler) "So, before I go, barkeep, let me tell you my name..."
(Muerte) "My name is La Muerte, and I will now be on my way."
With that he left walking out putting back his hood and cloak. Before being transported to the cemetery of the lost. Back once again now know about these legends, he will use them to get revenge on the four and also perhaps... Equestria. They won't stop him, not this time. Their souls will be his for the taking and he shall make them feel pain more than ever known.
(Muerte) "Ya es hora. Sus almas serán mías y tal vez.... Los residentes de esta "Equestria". Pero de cualquier manera la venganza será mía....”
And with that he prepares to return to their magical land. And make their nightmares... come true....
To be continued....
Author's Note
I'm so excited for this one. But there are some other things to do so yeah... bye.
