This experience was told to my grandmother Leonor by my oldest uncle Theodoro. This story takes place in San Francisco Del Rincon, Guanajuato. This place called "San Pancho" by it residents has many myths surrounding parts of the town, specifically the oldest parts.
One night, my uncle Lolo as we call him, was returning home after a late night gig. He was a mariachi in his younger days. To get to my grandma's house back in the day he had to cross a bridge. Under the bridge ran a river that has since dried up. People used to throw their garbage down there. There were also several rumours going around town that the prostitutes of "San Pancho" disposed of their unwanted babies down there. In short people tried to avoid this bridge after dark, because according to them strange things would happen there after dark. So my uncle being a super macho decided that he was not going to take the long way back to the house. So as he is crossing the bridge he starts to feel a very cold breeze which he thought was weird since it was the middle of summer and its usually very hot at night. He continues walking and starts to hear the sound of chains being dragged on the bridge behind him. At this point he starts to walk a little faster, his heart pounding in his chest. All of a sudden he hears a blood curdling scream from behind him. He freezes on the spot then very slowly turns around to see who or what screamed. Standing there a couple feet in front of him is a woman with long dark hair and an old style dress, he describes her face as appearing extremely ugly, blood shot eyes, ghastly mouth, and pale skin. As he stands there staring at her the woman starts screaming again and begins to float towards him. Well my uncle drops his trumpet and runs to my grandmother's house with the woman in pursuit. He finally reaches the house and starts banging on the windows and door shouting for someone to open up. My grandparents get up hearing all the banging and open the door for him. He was pale and barely able to talk as he was crying so hard. It took him a while to tell my grandmother what happened.
After that encounter he never again crossed the bridge at night by himself. To this day he still gets chills when he talks about that day. The bridge no longer stands, since the river dried up a road now stands there. People still say that late at night they hear babies crying and the sound of chains being dragged on the road.
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