You Didn’t Believe…

You didn’t believe in the legend. The stories about El Sangrado seemed like nothing more than another urban myth, a tale to scare children on the Day of the Dead. But your friends thought otherwise. They whispered about him, excitedly flipping through old books and online forums, searching for details of the ritual. "It’s just a game," you told yourself as the chalk touched the rough wall, tracing the sinister symbol.

The candle flickered in the night air, casting long shadows on the cracked wooden boards. Somewhere in the city, the celebration was still in full swing—the scent of hot chocolate and sweet bread filled the streets—but here, in the abandoned courtyard, the night felt colder than usual.

"All it takes is saying his name…"

At first—silence. Then a faint gust of wind, making the candle tremble. You exchanged glances, barely holding back laughter. But then the air grew heavy, thick with the scent of ashes. Somewhere in the distance, a low, haunting mariachi melody began to play.

And then—you felt it.

A presence.

And when you turned around, the shadow in the hat was already watching you…