By If you’re Latino, you’ve likely heard of La Llorona. ย And if you haven’t,ย please let us be the first to introduce you to the legendary woman, who for centuries has instilled fear, terror and sheer anxiety into Latino children, everywhere.ย
From drowning, beheading and murdering her own children, to roaming the waterways in search of more, we’ve compiled a list of the best La Llorona tales around.
Our only advise, keep the lights on, the doors locked and the children away…
These stories have mostly remained unchanged in order to preserve the original voice and style of the storyteller. Original stories can be viewed in full on Reddit.
La Llorona Took My Uncle
By Reikz from Reddit
Born in Colombia Cartagena, my great grandmother would always tell me about these urban legends as if they were real, she and my grandmother where both raised in El Choco, far from the cities, basically farms deep in the jungle.
Your nearest neighbor being miles away, this was before the guerrillas took over everything, people never dared to venture into the night. Too many would leave, never to return again. Smugglers? Killers? Curses and ghosts?
She would speak of La Llorona as well, people who traveled at night often heard a woman crying for her babies in the middle of the road. A loud screeching sob or scream. Lamenting the loss of her child, she would take anyone in their place.
This particular night my grandmother who was pregnant at the time, together with my grandfather and great grandmother were making a trip back to the Finca, earlier that day they ran into problems with the truck. You guessed it they where late. It was pitch black, not even the moon was out on the long road home. The car ran into more problems and my grandfather decided to do a quick stop to patch things up. No problem, they would go on a bathroom break while my grandfather finished things up.
My grandmother went into some bushes to do her business when she suddenly hears someone calling her in the distance, thinking its my great grandmother she screams back asking her what she wants, and that sheโs still busy. But somehow in the darkness she had lost her way, she was actually closer to my great grandmother than she thought, cause my great grandmother then replied from somewhere nearby “whatโs wrong with you, why are you screaming,โ Thatโs when they both heard the sound of a crying woman in the distance, not in the bushes but on the road, and they see a silhouette walking towards the truck. At this point my grandfather starts the truck. Before they can even warn my grandfather, it starts: “AAAAAAY MIS HIIIIIIIJJOOOOOOS” ” Ay, my children,โ a very loud sobbing, screeching noise. “AYYY MIS HIJOOOOS” all the while getting closer and closer, they quickly get into the truck and my grandfather steps on the gas.
My grandmother said the voice didnโt stop even after the truck started moving, it felt as if the voice got louder and louder, closer and closer, until it finally suddenly stopped.
An hour later they arrived at the Finca, when my grandmother stepped out of the car she found her dress fully covered in blood. My great grandmother would always tell us (me and my brothers), that night they should have never stopped. “that was the night La Llorona took your uncle from you”.
La Llorona Tried To Take My Aunt
By Imyreid from Reddit
My motherโs family is Hispanic and we have wonderful family reunions every summer. One of these times, my cousin made a lovely trivia game that had several questions about my Grandmother and her siblings. It was all very fun and I enjoyed learning new things about my Great Aunts and Uncles, but one of the questions struck me as odd.
โWhen my great aunt was young, she had a pet chicken that would speak to her.โ I thought this was a little strange, but the game went on. My mother happened to be the one to answer that question, so I asked her about it later in the day.
I asked about the chicken and my mother told me that my Great Aunt did indeed have a chicken that she would speak to and it would speak to her. I laughed a bit about it, but I could tell that my mom was serious. My grandmother was sitting nearby and chimed in. She told me that my Great Aunt had always been very โsensitiveโ to certain things. My Grandmother never doubted that my Aunt was talking to the chicken, but she was unsure who was talking to my Aunt.
At this point, I was very intrigued and had a small case of the heebie jeebies. Then my Grandmother told me a story that made my blood run cold in the middle of an outdoor July picnic.
She asked me if I knew the legend of La Llorona. It was unfamiliar to me, so a tale was told.
I loved the tale, but wasnโt quite sure what it had to do with the chicken. My Grandmother stated that sometimes when you attract spirits you are born with the ability to perceive them. I was perplexed, but she went on with the story.
She said that when they were children, they lived near water. My Aunt who spoke to the chicken was only an infant. My Great-Grandmother had laid my Aunt in her crib which happened to be near a window that faced the water. After a little while, my Aunt began to cry. My Great-Grandmother walked into the nursery and froze. A black figure was reaching through the window and reaching for my Aunt. My Great-Grandmother, being a devout Catholic, began invoking the name of Christ. The figure recoiled from my Aunt and out of the window. My Great-Grandmother watched the entity walk along the wall and recede into the water. La Llorona had tried to take my Aunt.
La Llorona Stole His Brother
By Dinowolfdog from Reddit
I come from south Texas, to be more exact I’m from San Antonio and I come from a primarily Hispanic family. As a child I was cared for by my mothers parents whenever both of my parents were too busy to care for me or my siblings. My parents frowned upon scaring us with the old stories but my grandparents didn’t see a problem with it. My grandparents knew many Hispanic myths some of them silly, but most of them are deep rooted in tradition and superstition. Most of these tales were built and adjusted to teach children to be well behaved and to listen to their parents and obey their elders, for example, El Cucuoy ( our version of the boogeyman) will get you if you misbehave, don’t be naughty or la Lechuza will come steal you and eat you, beware of la chupacabra! My siblings and I were told stories of the donkey lady bridge, midget mansion, the haunted train tracks, and of course the Chinese graveyard. Suffice to say, San Antonio is a place filled with lots of scary sh#$, if you’ll excuse my French, right now though, I’d like to share with you my experiences with one of our many famous myths La Llorona, or The Wailing Woman.
I was a troubled child, and making friends was always difficult. I was bad about wandering off and I would always find an excuse to be awake after my bed time, in short I was the child that all of the stories were geared towards. It was one particular night that I had been especially bad to the point where I’d already been spanked with the chancla twice. My mother sent me to bed early and there were no goodnight kisses to be received, so I did what any other 10 year old child would do knowing that no parents would be coming to check up on me, I got out of bed and began to play and make a mess. I knew it must be late out and that it was far beyond my bed time, I couldn’t be sure of the exact time but I could hear my father snoring loudly and that was enough for me to know how late it was. In fact it was probably because of the snoring that I didn’t hear her cries until it was too late for me to run to my bed and pretend to be sleeping. It started low, a noise I was sure that I must be imagining because of all the stories my grandmother told me. When it got louder and closer to my room I knew it had to be real though. So I climbed into my bed as I heard scratching on my door, and a voice so sad and desperate I began to cry. In her wailing tones she cried out “Mis hijos, mis hijos, ยฟestรกs aquรญ?” At this point I was shaking my eyes locked onto my bedroom door as she cried out again saying this time “Por favor vuelve a mรญ! mama es mucho lo.” I was crying and screaming for my parents as my door slowly opened and she let out another mournful cry “Lo siento mis bebรฉs, mamรก lo siente,” she pushed open the door and there she was, in her pure white dress her long black hair hanging over her face pale hands covering her eyes. She slowly looked up, her brown eyes were blood shot her spirit had been crying for so long that now there were tears of blood, I let out an ear piercing scream as she said “usted ha sido malo, es el momento de volver a casa.” And that’s the moment she came running at me her arms reaching for me as I shoved my tiny body into a corner screaming at the top of my lungs and my father, a true 6’4 bear of a man came barreling into my room screaming at her “ella deje la puta mierda solo. usted no robar a otra persona que me encanta!” La Llorona turned to him fury in her eyes with decaying finger pointed towards my father she screamed “usted va a morir por robar mis hijos!” My father collapsed clutching his already bad heart and as he convulsed on my bed room floor La Llorona slowly vanished while cackling and sobbing.
By the time I woke my mom and the ambulance had arrived my dad had already passed, it has always broken my heart knowing that he gave his life to save mine. It wasn’t until years later when I was finishing my junior year of high school that I found out what my dad meant by stealing someone else that he loved. My dad’s mother was on her death bed, and she was telling me the story of her life. Including the hidden fact that my dad’s brother didn’t really die at the age of six, he was actually stolen. My father insisted for most of his remaining childhood that La Llorona had stolen his brother. My grandmother never believed him, but now I knew the truth of my fathers preparedness when the wailing woman stole into my bedroom.
On this day, I am a 20 year old woman, I have a job, I go to college, I live in a single flat apartment with my cat, in all regards I am a well rounded and sensible adult, but to this day I am always in bed early, always asleep before midnight. Some nights if I push it too far I still hear her softly sobbing. She never gives up on finding her children.
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