Federico Navarrete's Blog

In the 2020s, I visited Toledo for the first time — a peculiar town woven with narrow alleys and timeless stone buildings. Among its winding streets, a small bar caught my eye: La Taberna del Cardenal. I stepped inside and ordered a glass of wine with some tapas.

The barman, a gruff yet friendly man, quickly picked up on my unusual accent.

"Are you from an English-speaking country?" he asked, curious.

I smiled and explained that I wasn't — but that I had spent almost a decade living abroad before finally returning to Spain.

We struck up a conversation. As we spoke, he revealed that his family had lived in Toledo for over 300 years. With a certain pride — and a hint of unease — he told me about the old Jewish quarter nearby, and a narrow, forgotten alley known as El Callejón del Diablo — the Devil's Alley.

A shadowy corridor, flanked by crumbling stone walls, steeped in whispered tales and ominous legends.
And among all the stories, there was one that had haunted him since his earliest childhood.

Centuries ago, during a particularly frigid winter evening, the city's most renowned tavern was abuzz with merriment. Merchants, soldiers, and locals gathered around wooden tables, their laughter echoing beneath the vaulted ceilings as they shared stories over jugs of robust red wine.

As the night deepened, the tavern's heavy wooden door creaked open, admitting a stranger cloaked in black. His presence was commanding—tall, with piercing eyes that seemed to glow with an inner fire. He spoke little, ordering only a glass of the tavern's strongest brew (figure 1), which he sipped slowly, observing the room with a knowing smile.

Figure 1. The devil.

Intrigued by the stranger's demeanor, a group of patrons invited him to join their game of dice. He accepted, producing a set of ornate dice from his cloak, their surfaces etched with unfamiliar symbols. With each roll, fortune favored the enigmatic guest, his pile of coins growing steadily. The other players, frustrated and suspicious, accused him of cheating.​

In response, the stranger's smile widened. He stood, revealing beneath his cloak a pair of cloven hooves. Gasps filled the room as he declared, "You invited me to play, and now you must pay the price." With that, he vanished in a burst of sulfurous smoke, leaving behind only scorch marks on the floor and the lingering scent of brimstone.​

Since that night, his area has borne the mark of the devil's visit. Locals speak of unexplained occurrences—flickering lights, sudden chills, and whispers in the dark. And El Callejón del Diablo remains a place where few dare to tread after sunset, lest they encounter the devil seeking another game.

I have always wondered where the old tavern was located. I still visit Toledo once in a while, visiting more taverns and discovering more about the stories hidden in this unique town.

During colonial times, in Cartago in Costa Rica lived an alluring girl. She was stonishing as an orchid, with incredible curves, beautiful busts, shapely legs, and a face like no other. However, she was supercilious and didn't have any consideration for her parents. She often humiliated and disobeyed them because she was very upset that they were extremely poor. She couldn't understand why their parents didn't work harder so they could leave the poorest neighborhood and join the elite where she belonged.

Years passed and one day, the alluring girl received an invitation from a wealthy and handsome Spanish man to attend a dance in his mansion. Her mother opposed it since the Spaniard was recognized as a womanizer who had no morals toward women.

The young girl got enraged with her mom. She blasphemed against her and filled their humble house with expletives. Her mother just watched her daughter and cried in silence. The young girl was so frustrated that suddenly she raised her hand to slap her mom. However, before she had fully raised her hand, a mysterious black naily hand came out of nothing. The girl tried to escape, but a thunderous voice said aloud:

"I curse you, bad woman, for offending and trying to slap the one who gave you life. From today and for eternity every man will approach you but they will run from your frightful face."

Centuries passed and many men started to meet the "alluring" girl all over Nicaragua around midnight. Everyone "fell in love" at first glance. No one could resist her astonishing body and sweet prayer. The Cegua (as it was named by the Nicaraguans) always asked them for a lift since she was far from her home. Every man wanted to impress her and agreed. However, after a while, Cegua's real face shows up and everyone discovered she was not any alluring face, but Cegua! Her whinnying horse's face was glaring at them as if she had won a jackpot (figure 1).

Figure 1. The Cegua. ¹
Many men are able to run away from the spirit, but some of them never returned to their homes. Beware if you ever visit Nicaragua because regardless if you're riding a horse, driving a car, or riding a bike, she will be waiting for you! Take care of your soul!

Inspired by Carlos Chavarría Solano's version.

Credits:¹  Villains Wiki

Many years ago, during the Spanish colonization, a new priest was assigned to Patarrá in Costa Rica. For a while, the residents considered him an incredible person with unbreakable "values." He seemed to be the most honest and loyal person in town, a true representative of their Lord Jesus Christ.

Several months passed, and a mysterious Spanish man, wearing a  mask, began to visit Escazú (a nearby town to Patarrá). He was a womanizer, greedy and brazen as no one the residents had ever met. He loved gambling in the bars every other night. The poor residents lost thousands of silver coins every time they played against him. He seemed to be unbeatable. And after his wins, he always chose the best woman and enjoyed his deserved "adventures."
The masked man became notoriously wealthy as a few people. He had been earning tons of silver without limits. Everyone began getting suspicious of where he was from and where he was saving his insane fortune. Banks didn't exist in those days. Some tried to follow him, but somehow he always vanished. No one could figure out his whereabouts. The man was extremely careful and never left any hint, not even revealing his real name.
The man realized that he had become incredibly wealthy so he decided to travel to a new town, San Ramón. In this place, he never gambled, spoke, or gathered with the locals. He came to identify a place where he could save his wealth safely. After several trips, he found a unique and frightening tree that seemed to be from the underworld. It seemed like the perfect place to hide his wealth from any intruder. That's why every midnight during the new moon, when the night was darkest, the man came and carefully buried his newly won silver coins, and later, he left without leaving any trace.
Over the years, the priest was sent to Peru and Nicaragua for some religious missions to convert the unbelievers. However, during his last mission, the priest was beheaded by a rebellion against the conquistadors and his priests. The rebellion was so bloody that they buried each of the evil people without their heads.

Several weeks passed, and a rumor reached Patarrá, San Ramón, and Escazú that a famous priest had been beheaded during a rebellion. The people of Patarrá became very sad when they realized that it was its priest who had been beheaded by the rebellion. Its priest had been almost an angel sent from heaven for its residents. However, sooner than expected, the people from Escazú concluded that the beheaded priest was the same Spanish gambler because he had never returned to their town after several months.

Rumors spread like wildfire that the unbeatable gambler from Escazú and the beheaded priest from  Patarrá were the same man  (figure 1). And now, his ghost began to roam and terrorize all Costaricans, chasing the sinners and looking for his head. No one could believe an evil ghost had come from hell to their lands!

Figure 1. The Headless Priest. ¹

Nowadays, the headless priest ghost materializes in two places.

The first place is in San Ramón, where he protects his treasure from any individual who visits his tree. His ghost materializes at the foot of the tree. Here he scares anyone who tries to steal his treasure, and if anyone tries more than once, he chases them until they go mad.

The second place is in Patarrá. The ghost materializes in his old hermitage in "La Calle del Cura del Cabeza" (The Street of the Priest of the Head in English) on some specific days and to some particular people. These days, the ghost materializes, giving a special mass to sinners, passing the entire religious rite from behind, without showing his face, hidden in the shadows. However, during the Eucharist, when someone approaches him, the priest turns around, and the sinner discovers that the priest has no head. Many try running away while the priest chases them, some are lucky to escape, but most never see the light again.

What's more, a second headless priest began to materialize among Costaricans during the late 19th century. In Cartago, a priest and his brother fell in love with the same woman. For the priest, this was a disgrace because he had a vow of chastity that he had to respect. However, the priest could not tolerate his disgrace, and at his brother's wedding, he murdered him during the Eucharist when the priest was raising the host.

The witnesses were shocked and some important men arrested the evil priest before he could escape. Days later, the Costa Rican Court decided to behead the evil priest because he was a bad son of God.

Years passed, and after two successive earthquakes in 1841 and 1910, the old church was severely damaged. After this event, the priest's ghost started to materialize in the ruins every other night. And when anyone tried to reconstruct the church, some unknown forces prevent them to lay any bricks in order to keep the place intact as a reminder of this evil act.

Credits:¹ GamersGallery.com

window.onload=function(){showToast();}Long ago, when I was still young in 1997, I was coming back blind drunk to my house in Mixco, Guatemala. It had been a fantastic Friday; I had drunk several fine beers with my friends, and I felt like the king of that place. However, I would remember that night for the rest of my life, but not for this specific reason.
I was not sure where I was going when suddenly I almost fell down on a massive cliff. How did I survive, you might be wondering? To be honest, I just felt an extremely fast wind that shoved me from the cliff. I hit the pavement very badly.
The strange wind followed me from the distance until I arrived home safely. I am convinced the same wind had been protecting me before, but I was never sure if it had been my imagination only or something else, until that day.
During the following weeks, I went to visit a childhood friend who lived in Jutiapa. I shared with him my odd experience with this odd wind that saved me. He was somehow concerned because he recognized what this wind was, and he shared with me the following anecdote.
“Many moons ago, the Almighty created a white spirit who would frighten all humans in the Guatemalan lands. However, his true purpose was to protect them. He called him the Cadejo.
The new spirit had a very peculiar form. It looked like a hound but with little goats’ hooves and eyes like blue embers. Also, its body was very woolly.
On that day, the devil had sent a spy to heaven. He eavesdropped when the Almighty was proudly presenting his new creation to the archangels. The spy shared the news with his master. The devil got upset and enraged as never in his life. He was so angry because the Almighty could not create beings to frighten humans. That was his duty, only his!
The devil used all his powers and created a copycat of the new spirit. However, he would have some differences. The copycat would be black and with red embers. Also, his only purpose would be to cause as many wicked actions as possible, especially to everyone who observed him at night. This other spirit became known as the black Cadejo.
The two Cadejos started to do what their creators had commanded them, protecting people, or causing trobles in the cities for centuries.
Many people were afraid of leaving their homes after 8 PM because they did not know what to expect. However, one unexpected night, they had a change of heart, and both became the protectors of all Guatemalans at night.
The black protects the drunk men on their way back to their homes. If any drunk man ever walked next to him, he would start feeling his presence, but he would not be able to see it. He would accompany him until he reached his home safely. Some chosen ones swore they had seen the black Cadejo on some nights. They said he was following the drunk man from a distance, but somehow, he looked very energetic. Sadly, the locals still perceive him as a wicked spirit because of his shady past.
On some rare occasions, the black Cadejo can perceive that some drunkards are a lost cause. He identifies that based on their hearts because they are full of selfishness, dark intentions, and envy. On those nights, he licks their mouths, and they will never be able to sober up. The black Cadejo will follow them for nine days until they die.
On the other hand, the white one focused on protecting every woman and child at night while they return home. He knows they are most vulnerable to all villains on the streets and will walk next to them and protect them.
Once in a blue moon, the white Cadejo has defended some drunkards from the black’s lick. On those nights, when both are face-to-face (figure 1), they enter into fierce and bloody combat. The white spirit tries to protect the man while the black one attacks him until they can reach an agreement of whom is right.
Be aware of their presence if you ever pretend to get drunk in the Guatemalan lands!”
On that day, I stopped my bad drinking habits. I understood that the black Cadejo had been protecting me all these years. However, it was time to take care of my life because maybe one day, he will not be with me.
Figure 1. The Cadejos.
Inspired by Guatemala.com’s version.

Long ago, a black horseman started to appear in the streets of Puebla. His appearance was extremely curious because he dressed in a black suit with some gold and silver buttons. He was gallant with an elongated figure and an imposing posture. Also, he rode a peculiar horse with fur of the same color, with eyes that look like two balls of fire. No one could understand why someone so elegant had come to their lands, but the truth was that he was the devil's personal collector and had come to collect the fees of his master.
Everything started in Tlaxcala just after the Spanish Independence. The black horseman (El Charro Negro in Spanish) was born into a very humble family, something he never accepted. He always hated to have his hands full of dirt because of his work and he could never achieve the riches he deserved. He felt he was destined to become the best of the best.
The black horseman felt so bad about his low status that he preferred to go without eating to collect a few pesos and buy a good hat in the local market.
Years passed and he was a teenager, his parents died, and his poverty increased significantly. He started to get desperate, and his ambition grew more and more. He had to find a solution to this unpleasant situation and during a meeting in a bar, someone shared with him that he could invoke the devil and reach a deal.
The black horseman thought it for a while since he might need to sell his soul, but in his desperation, he invoked the devil to ask for fortune. He was tired of this insane and undeserved poverty.
The devil agreed and granted them his wish. He would have an almost infinite fortune in exchange for his soul.
The black horseman became extremely wealthy. He could not imagine that he had never thought about this idea before. Now, he started to enjoy what he had always deserved. He began gathering with the aristocrats and enjoyed himself the best. He bought the best French wines, dated the most alluring women, and gambled without bringing him any remorse. Everything seemed to go beyond expectations.
After some months, he took advantage of the wealth to buy the finest suits that made him look respectable and highlighted his handsomeness. He also bought the finest black horse in town. He thought his life was getting better and better. He felt he was extremely happy, but after a while, he started to feel loneliness as never in his life. He discovered that all women and his new "friends" were next to him just for convenience. No one really liked him, they had no real affection towards him. They only wanted his wealth and wines.
Years passed, and the devil came to visit the black horseman to conclude their deal.
The black horseman tried to hide and escape, but this was impossible because the devil is the devil and could find him everywhere he tried to hide. The devil hated to play hide and seek.
The devil became angrier and angrier with this dumb attitude because he thought he had made a deal with a man, not with a child. After a while, he told him that he wouldn't take his soul, but he would become his debt collector from today. However, it was not the end of their new deal, he would lose all his handsomeness and become extremely skinny (figure 1) as a payment.
Nowadays, the black horseman wanders lonely at night on the streets of cities or on rural roads in search of debtors like him, who also offered his souls in exchange for great wealth. Furthermore, he makes other ambitious men fall, offering them sacks full of gold coins, as well as women who get carried away by his gallantry and flirtation. Beware of him and avoid his offers!
Figure 1. The Black Horseman. ¹

Inspired by Top Adventure's version.

Credits:
¹ Top Adventure

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Cigua was a very hard-working Honduran girl. She was alluring and everyone loved her. She lived in a rural area with her parents. She always helped her mother at home, especially, washing clothes in a nearby river.

When Cigua turned 15 years old, a young man fell in love with her. It was love at first sight. The boy belonged to a good and wealthy family from the same town.

The boy without thinking twice went to ask for the girl's hand. Cigua's parents realized the boy belonged to a wealthy family and accepted his proposal. In the following days, they agreed on their marriage date and started to organize everything.

Several months passed and the wedding day arrived. Once at the altar, the priest asked the new couple to give him their baptismal certificates (a mandatory requirement). The boy presented his one, but the girl did not have any. She was not baptized.

The couple begged the priest with all their hearts, but they could not get married. He declined each and every single supplication even the proposals coming from the relatives who requested that he baptize her in the same act and then marry her. He was a very strict priest and rejected every proposal.

The following weeks were tough, the young woman fell into a deep depression because she could not get married. The depression was so extreme that it seemed to have gone crazy. Her boyfriend, seeing her situation, moved away from her and forgot her.

The girl's depression was so massive that made her never take off her wedding dress (figure 1). She wore every day wherever she went.

Figure 1. Cigua ¹.

One day, the girl was washing clothes in the river when she overheard that her beloved man was going to marry another woman.

The girl could not believe what she had heard. For a brief moment, she recovered her sanity and cried inconsolably. However, she started to suffer more and more. Her pain was unstoppable. That night, she disappeared from her town and ran out screaming to the nearest cliff. She jumped on it, killing herself instantly.

From that day, the Hondurans said that the girl's spirit wanders near rivers and streams searching for her beloved one.

Cigua often appears in the rivers and streams dressed in white, especially to the rogue men who roam drunk or are womanizers. However, she will scare anyone who dares to appear wherever she is on that day.

To attract men, the spectrum appears as a beautiful naked woman or transforms into the figure of the current partner or love interest. The men always run happily towards her. However, when he is close he becomes a horrible horror that drives him crazy. 

On rare occasions, some Hondurans said that she also appears with her hair facing in front of her covering her face, and the person who manages to see it goes crazy.

Legend inspired in HablemosDeMitologias.com.

Credits:¹  HablemosDeMitologias.com

window.onload=function(){showToast();}Many years ago, I was a young and handsome man. I was considered one of those men who could conquer the heart of any woman if I wanted. No one was better than me in this art.
My life was fantastic, full of women and success. I was unstoppable. I was climbing in the corporate world extremely fast. However, one terrible night, I will recall it for the rest of my life!
It was a Friday 13th in 1994 when the CEO promoted me to General Manager of the organization. I felt so amazing I invited my best peers to the Bar December 6th in English (Bar 6 de Deciembre in Spanish) in Portoviejo. It was the best night in many years. Several beautiful women, the finest beers, and the best music in town, what a memorable night should have been, but it was not.
After I had left the bar, I was dead drunk. I could barely recognize where I was. So many beers that I had lost count when I was on my tenth one. However, my guts were telling me something this was an abnormal night, and that I should order a taxi. I ignored them and followed my “path” because I was a man, but more than a man, I was the new General Manager.
The night was clear, with no stars, and was really silent. After several minutes of walking around, I wanted to take a short nap in an alley not so far from a shop. I was too tired to keep walking to my house that it was a little bit far from the city center. Maybe it was after midnight; I am not so sure, to be honest. I just needed to rest.
Suddenly, when I was resting on the wall in the alley, a seductive, tall, white, and black-haired woman appeared from nowhere. She looked like someone from the high class. She greeted me, but I could not see her face because a gentle mantle covered it. Also, her perfume was so exotic I felt hypnotized. I just wanted to go next to her, hug her, and kiss her. My male instincts were betraying me. I knew this was wrong, but I could not stop myself. I needed to have her!
She started to run, and I just chased her blindly until we reached the outskirts. Suddenly she stopped, and I was able to hug her. At that moment, I felt a very stinky smell similar to rotten eggs. I looked up because I wanted to kiss her regardless of the smell. Suddenly, I saw that her face was a skull (figure 1), in fact. I realized this was not a common woman. It was the mythical Covered Lady (La Dama Tapada in Spanish)! I fainted immediately.
Figure 1. The Covered Lady.
The next morning when I was sober, I decided it was time to return home. I could not stay here any longer. She could return at any time.
All my body hurt very badly, and it was hard to move. I felt as if a truck had hit me. I could barely walk, but when I finally returned to my city, I went directly to the church. I requested to speak urgently with the local priest. The priest was somehow angry because he was meditating, but he agreed to speak with me for a few minutes.
I thanked him for his time and shared my experience. Then, he looked at me very seriously and shared the following anecdote.
“In the 1700s, many men died in our country (Ecuador) because of a woman whose face was always covered. We, the Ecuadorians, called her the Covered Lady.
No one was sure where she came from, but everyone agreed she shows up to drunkards in not very crowded urban alleys at midnight.
In these places, the Covered Lady always appeared and gave off a pleasant fragrance that drove every man crazy. She made some polite gestures so that they could follow her blindly. However, she never allowed them to come very close.
After a few minutes, they walked for several km until they were far away from the city center. They always reached some remote areas where she stopped and let the men come close. At this moment, she uncovered her face, and the men always felt a foul-smelling that contaminated the place. In front of them was a corpse in the putrefaction process and had eyes like flashing balls of fire.
Many tried to run, but most of them died with convulsions and foaming at the mouth. Others died from the fright of seeing her face-to-face, and some died from the foul stench that the spectrum emanated when she revealed her true face. Very few survived that were called Scoundrels (Los Tunantes in Spanish). These men are more vulnerable to her effects if they ever encounter her again.
Some of us still believe the Covered Lady still roams through the urban alleys and streets of our country at midnight.”
“Hopefully, you understand my son that this is a serious topic. You were lucky, you are one of the few survivors, and you are from this day a Scoundrel. You need to fix your life once and for all. You could join our local Alcoholics Anonymous group. I am sure they can support you to overcome your addiction. If you need any extra support, you can always come to speak with me. Also, you can say to the group that I sent you.” Said the priest before returning to his meditation.
I was shocked, but I understood that from that day, I had become a Scoundrel. I would be more vulnerable to her effects. That’s why I stopped drinking and joined my local Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) group immediately.
Five years later, all my life had changed. I had never drunk a single drop of alcohol. Also, I had switched my role in the AA organization from someone who received a lot of support to a very active speaker every odd night.
My new role has helped several men to avoid my missteps with alcohol. Some of them had already become Scoundrels as I. It was hard to support them because they did not want to leave the alcohol for good. They cried on my shoulders since they knew their destiny. Some of them followed my advice, while others I never saw again. Personally, I want to minimize that anyone else ever encounters the Covered Lady. Hopefully, you can share my story with more people and protect them from the Covered Lady!

Many years ago, I was a young and handsome man. I was considered one of those men who could conquer the heart of any woman if I wanted. No one was better than me in this art.
My life was fantastic, full of women and success. I was unstoppable. I was climbing in the corporate world extremely fast. However, one terrible night, I will recall it for the rest of my life!
It was a Friday 13th in 1994 when the CEO promoted me to General Manager of the organization. I felt so amazing I invited my best peers to the Bar 6 de Deciembre (December 6th in English) in Portoviejo. It was the best night in many years. Several beautiful women, the finest beers, and the best music in town, what a memorable night should have been, but it was not.
After I had left the bar, I was dead drunk. I could barely recognize where I was. So many beers that I had lost the count when I was on my tenth one. However, my guts were telling me something this was an abnormal night, and that I should order a taxi. I ignored them and followed my “path” because I was a man, but more than a man, I was the new General Manager.
The night was clear, no stars, and was really silent. After several minutes of walking around, I wanted to take a short nap in an alley not so far from a shop. I was too tired to keep walking to my house that it was a little bit far from the city center. Maybe it was after midnight; I am not so sure, to be honest. I just needed to rest.
Suddenly, when I was resting on the wall in the alley, a seductive, tall, white, and black-haired woman appeared from nowhere. She looked like someone from the high class. She greeted me, but I could not see her face because a gentle mantle covered it. Also, her perfume was so exotic I felt hypnotized. I just wanted to go next to her, hug her, and kiss her. My male instincts were betraying me. I knew this was wrong, but I could not stop myself. I needed to have her!
She started to run, and I just chased her blindly until we reached the outskirts. Suddenly she stopped, and I was able to hug her. At that moment, I felt a very stinky smell similar to rotten eggs. I looked up because I wanted to kiss her regardless of the smell. Suddenly, I saw that her face was a skull (figure 1), in fact. I realized this was not a common woman. It was the mythical Covered Lady (La Dama Tapada in Spanish)! I fainted immediately.
Figure 1. The Covered Lady.
The next morning when I was sober, I decided it was time to return home. I could not stay here any longer. She could return at any time.
All my body hurt very badly, and it was hard to move. I felt as if a truck had hit me. I could barely walk, but when I finally returned to my city, I went directly to the church. I requested to speak urgently with the local priest. The priest was somehow angry because he was meditating, but he agreed to speak with me for a few minutes.
I thanked his time and shared my experience. Then, he looked at me very seriously and shared the following anecdote.
“In the 1700s, many men died in our country (Ecuador) because of a woman whose face was always covered. We, the Ecuadorians, called her the Covered Lady.
No one was sure where she came from, but everyone agreed she appeared to drunkards in not very crowded urban alleys at midnight.
In these places, the Covered Lady always appeared and gave off a pleasant fragrance that drove every man crazy. She made some polite gestures so that they could follow her blindly. However, she never allowed them to come very close.
After a few minutes, they walked for several km until they were far away from the city center. They always reached some remote areas where she stopped and let the men come close. At this moment, she uncovered her face, and the men always felt a foul-smelling that contaminated the place. In front of them was a corpse in the putrefaction process and had eyes like flashing balls of fire.
Many tried to run, but most of them died with convulsions and foaming at the mouth. Others died from the fright of seeing her face-to-face, and some died from the foul stench that the spectrum emanated when she revealed her true face. Very few survived that were called Scoundrels (Los Tunantes in Spanish). These men are more vulnerable to her effects if they ever encounter her again.
Some of us still believe the Covered Lady still roams through the urban alleys and streets of our country at midnight.”
“Hopefully, you understand my son that this is a serious topic. You were lucky, you are one of the few survivors, and you are from this day a Scoundrel. You need to fix your life once and for all. You could join our local Alcoholics Anonymous group. I am sure they can support you overcome your addiction. If you need any extra support, you can always come to speak with me. Also, you can say to the group that I sent you.” Said the priest before returning to his meditation.
I was shocked, but I understood that from that day, I had become a Scoundrel. I would be more vulnerable to her effects. That’s why I stopped drinking and joined my local Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) group immediately.
Five years later, all my life had changed. I had never drunk a single drop of alcohol. Also, I had switched my role in the AA organization from someone who received a lot of support to a very active speaker every odd night.
My new role has helped several men to avoid my missteps with alcohol. Some of them had already become Scoundrels as I. It was hard to support them because they did not want to leave the alcohol for good. They cried on my shoulders since they knew their destiny. Some of them followed my advice, while others I never saw again. Personally, I want to minimize that anyone else ever encounters the Covered Lady. Hopefully, you could share my story with more people and protect them from the Covered Lady!

window.onload=function(){showToast();}My name is John Kowalski Jr., and I am a Polish American living in Idaho. I have always had a crazy attraction to Latin America, but I never had a good reason to travel there because it seems dangerous.
However, in 2015, Narcos came to Netflix and motivated me to finally leave my comfort zone and travel to Colombia and Venezuela during the summer of June of 2017.
I arrived in Bogota and was impressed by their women, music, and many other things. Their people were amazing. One day, I was drinking some beers in a bar when I overheard a man speaking about an interesting region called Los Llanos. I approached him and asked him more questions about this place. I think it was a great idea to go there because I could travel to Venezuela later. I would kill two birds with one stone.
In the following days, I rented a jeep and started my adventure. I traveled alone to Los Llanos. The place seemed like a crazy jungle. It was a very harsh terrain, and many times, I barely had what to eat. The locals were nice, and often gave me some fruit or water. I cannot say that I was at the top of the smartest place on Earth.
To be honest, I regret this trip because one night, I was sleeping in a small cabin when I heard a hideous whistle. I was scared as hell because I had never heard anything like that in my life. As a youngster, I made the mistake of leaving my cabin. Not so far from my cabin, a deadly spectrum whistled very loudly while carrying a big bag full of something. He came to my cabin, opened it, and started to count some bones. He did not notice I was next to him. After he had finished, he left my cabin and vanished in the middle of nowhere.
I didn’t know what this spectrum was. First of all, I had never seen one in my life! I could not believe I had met something so scary like this.
The next morning, I returned to Bogota as soon as I could. I left the car and visited a pastor that I had met before. I shared my experience with him, and he was shocked. He told me that I had met the Whistler (figure 1).
Figure 1. The Whistler.
The pastor said that I was lucky because I had stayed quiet while he counted. Most men are dumb and start running, and one of his relatives dies days later. Furthermore, he shared with me the Whistlers’ tragic story that is as follows.
“Long ago, in the middle of the 19th century, in a region called Los Llanos between Colombia and Venezuela, a lost soul appeared from nowhere. People called him the Whistler (El Silbón in Spanish) because his hideous whistle became synonymous with death and misfortune.
Everything started on an afternoon when a man returned home after a long day at work. He found his father abusing his beautiful young wife. He became enraged and began to argue with his father about his misconduct. His father only said his wife deserved it. This provoked him to hit his father and start a bloody fight.
After several minutes, the man had managed to knock his father down to the ground. He grabbed a stick and pressed it against his neck. He did not stop until he realized his father had stopped breathing and passed away.
Suddenly, the man’s house door opened, and his grandfather discovered his son was dead. His grandfather did not allow him to speak and tied him to a tree. He started to whip his back without any compassion. After several minutes, his grandfather untied him and released an angry dog that chased him until he had vanished at everyone’s sight. No one saw him alive after that.
Several years later, primarily during the summers, people started to see apparitions of an odd spectrum every night. He carries a bag and whistles in an uncommon tone. He sits in the trees and gathers dust in his hands. However, it is mainly on rainy or humid days that the spectrum wanders and is hungry for death and eager to punish drunkards, philanderers, or sometimes innocent victims.
People say he sucks the alcohol out of drunkards through their navel when he finds them alone. He tears philanderers into pieces removing their bones and putting them in the sack where he keeps his father’s remains.
Also, some elders say the Whistler can appear by a house on certain nights, drop his sack on the ground, and count the bones one by one. If one hears his whistle, nothing will happen, but if someone doesn’t hear it before dawn, one member of the family will never wake up again.
Beware of the Whistler if you ever travel to Los Llanos during the summer.”
What I can tell you is that after I heard this story, I just thanked the pastor for his wise knowledge. I left his office and went to the closest Avianca agency and bought a ticket to return to America as soon as possible. Nowadays, I recommend everyone who wants to travel to Colombia or Venezuela to be careful if they ever travel to Los Llanos since the Whistler is still roaming around. He is real. Take care of your life for God's sake!

My name is John Kowalski Jr., and I am a Polish-American living in Idaho. I have always had a crazy attraction to Latin America, but I never had a good reason to travel there because it seems dangerous.
However, in 2015, Narcos came to Netflix and motivated me to finally leave my comfort zone and travel to Colombia and Venezuela during the summer in June of 2017.
I arrived in Bogota and was impressed by their women, music, and many other things. Their people were amazing. One day, I was drinking some beers in a bar when I overheard a man speaking about an interesting region called Los Llanos. I approached him and asked him more questions about this place. I think it was a great idea to go there because I could travel to Venezuela later. I would kill two birds with one stone.
In the following days, I rented a jeep and started my adventure. I traveled alone to Los Llanos. The place seemed like a crazy jungle. It was a very harsh terrain, and many times, I barely had what to eat. The locals were nice and many times gifted me some fruits or water. I cannot say that I was the smartest place on Earth.
To be honest, I regret this trip because one night, I was sleeping in a small cabin when I heard a hideous whistle. I was scared as hell because I had never heard anything like that in my life. As a youngster, I made the mistake of leaving my cabin. Not so far from my cabin, a deadly spectrum whistled very loudly while carrying a big bag full of something. He came to my cabin, opened it, and started to count some bones. He did not notice I was next to him. After he had finished, he left my cabin and vanished in the middle of nowhere.
I didn’t know what this spectrum was. First of all, I had never seen one in my life! I could not believe I have met something so scary like this.
The next morning, I returned to Bogota as soon as I could. I left the car and visited a pastor that I had met before. I shared with him my experience, and he was shocked. He told me that I had met the Whistler (figure 1).
Figure 1. The Whistler.
The pastor said that I was lucky because I had stayed quiet while he counted. Most men are dumb and start running, and one of his relatives dies days later. Furthermore, he shared with me the Whistlers’ tragic story that is as follows.
“Long ago, in the middle of the 19th century, in a region called Los Llanos between Colombia and Venezuela, a lost soul appeared from nowhere. People called him the Whistler (El Silbón in Spanish) because his hideous whistle became synonymous with death and misfortune.
Everything started on an afternoon when a man returned home after a long day at work. He found his father abusing his beautiful young wife. He became enraged and began to argue with his father about his misconduct. His father only said your wife deserved it. This provoked him to hit his father and start a bloody fight.
After several minutes, the man had managed to knock his father down to the ground. He grabbed a stick and pressed it against his neck. He did not stop until he realized his father had stopped breathing and passed away.
Suddenly, the man’s house door opened and his grandfather discovered his son dead. His grandfather did not allow him to speak and tied him to a tree. He started to whip his back without any compassion. After several minutes, his grandfather untied him and released an angry dog that chased him until he had vanished at everyone’s sight. No one saw him alive after that.
Several years later, primarily during the summers, people started to see apparitions of an odd spectrum every night. He carries a bag and whistles in an uncommon tone. He sits in the trees and gathers dust in his hands. However, it is mainly on rainy or humid days that the spectrum wanders and is hungry for death and eager to punish drunkards, philanderers, or sometimes innocent victims.
People say he sucks the alcohol out of drunkards through their navel when he finds them alone. He tears philanderers into pieces removing their bones and putting them in the sack where he keeps his father’s remains.
Also, some elders say the Whistler can appear by a house on certain nights, drop his sack on the ground, and count the bones one by one. If one hears his whistle, nothing will happen, but if someone doesn’t hear it before dawn, one member of the family will never wake up again.
Beware of the Whistler if you ever travel to Los Llanos during the summer.”
What I can tell you that after I heard this story, I just thanked the pastor for his wise knowledge. I left his office and went to the closest Avianca agency and bought a ticket to return to America as soon as possible. Nowadays, I recommend everyone who wants to travel to Colombia or Venezuela to be careful if they ever travel to Los Llanos since the Whistler is still roaming around. He is real. Take care of your life for god sake!