One Saturday at sunset, my parents cheerfully herded us into the minivan after announcing that we were going to get ice cream. Half an hour later, we were clustered around a table in the outdoor dining area of a Fosters Freeze, enjoying our cones. The sky turned dark, and stars began to twinkle. With our desserts finished, we headed back home. As we passed the river, Dad told us this spooky legend.
“A long time ago, there was a sad woman who lived in a Mexican pueblo,” he said. “Her husband treated her and their children badly, and no matter how hard she tried to please him, the man continued his wicked ways. When the suffering wife discovered her husband’s infidelity, she went mad with jealousy.
‘Come with me to the river,’ she told her children. ‘We’re going to bathe.’
Once in the water, the mother drowned her kids, including the baby. Then, she joined them.
The evil mother’s spirit became cursed; she’s doomed never to rest. At night, she wails for the children she slew, looking for new ones to replace them with."
This is the tale of La Llorona, the first ghost story many Mexican kids hear. It’s been on my mind lately with Lindsay Clancy’s triple-murder trial currently underway. Clancy isn’t Mexican, but the crimes she’s accused of eerily resemble La Llorona’s.