§986

‘It was Maundy Thursday, and we were working on a project for the European Union. They sent us to the village of ***, and at the road junction of *** between ten and twelve in the day, we saw on the side of the crossroads a man covered in hair with very large hands and feet, holding a wooden stick with a bundle of cloth. As we passed by him to turn at the crossroads, he laughed in a chilling way. The Volkswagen started to slow down as he began to laugh, and it seemed as if time was stopping as we passed by him. We stopped about a hundred meters further on and when we looked back, he was no longer there. The two of us asked each other what that had been. Our bosses didn’t believe us, even though the project director was from Bruges, Belgium. Time passed, and in 2014, in the city of Escarcega Campeche, I met some timber transporters who coincidentally told me that about a hundred years ago that crossroads was a road where wood was transported. The people of those times commented that at that crossroads a witch or herbalist had trapped a being and had locked it up and buried it on the side of that road. That’s all I experienced.’ ‘What I saw was not a fairy.’ ‘I think it was an apparition and we were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.’ ‘Everything is possible as [fairy] legends even appear in Mexican traditions.’ It ‘was not a good being.’