La Llorna Evil Spirit who Weeps for her Dead Children

The story of La Llorona (pronounced "lah yoh-ROH-nah") is a famous Latin American legend, deeply rooted in folklore and often used to teach moral lessons or as a cautionary tale. The name translates to "The Weeping Woman." According to the most common version of the tale, La Llorona was once a beautiful woman named María, who lived in a rural village. She fell in love with a wealthy man, and they had two children together.

But over time, he began to lose interest in her, especially as she grew older or as his attention turned to another woman. One day, in a moment of despair and rage—often after seeing him with someone else—María drowned her children in a river. Some say it was to punish the man; others say it was out of madness or jealousy. Immediately after the act, she was overwhelmed with guilt and tried to rescue them, but it was too late. She then either drowned herself or wandered the land forever mourning.

La Llorona: The River Behind the Houses
In a quiet neighborhood just outside San Antonio, Texas, there was a narrow river that ran behind a row of houses. It wasn't much—just a thin stream surrounded by trees—but the parents in the neighborhood always warned their kids: “Don’t play near the water after dark. La Llorona walks there.”
Most kids laughed it off. Ghost stories were just that—stories.

But 13-year-old Elena had always been curious. She loved mysteries, especially the kind everyone said were fake. So one summer evening, when the sky was turning orange and the cicadas started singing, Elena slipped out with a flashlight and headed for the river.

The air felt thick near the water. Still and too quiet. She clicked on her light and crept closer. That’s when she heard it: “Ay... mis hijoooos...” Elena froze.

The voice was faint but unmistakable--a woman crying, dragging out her words with heartbreaking sorrow. Elena’s breath caught in her throat. She scanned the trees, but saw no one. Then--a white figure appeared just across the river. A tall woman in a soaked white dress, hair hanging over her face. Her shoulders shook with sobs. “Who’s there?” Elena whispered.

The woman stopped crying.
She turned slowly. Her face was a hollow void, pale and twisted, with black tears running down her cheeks. Her arms stretched toward Elena as she whispered again:
“My children... come to me...”
Elena turned and ran, the woman’s cries echoing behind her, louder, closer.
She didn’t stop until she reached her back door. When her parents asked why she was crying, all she could say was: “She’s real. La Llorona is real.”

The next morning, they found wet footprints leading from the river up to Elena’s window—and a long white thread from a tattered gown caught on the windowsill.