The Ghostly Guardians of the Desert
A mysterious light procession haunts the Coahuila desert, believed to be the ghosts of royalist soldiers guarding a stolen treasure. Local legends connect this phenomenon to historical figures like Doña Victoriana, a shrewd woman who allegedly found the treasure and used it to elevate her family.
It’s Coahuila, northern Mexico, somewhere out near Guerrero, where the land is flatter than a busted tire, the nights are ink-black, and the occasional coyote's howling could chill a tequila-swilling cowboy to his boots. And there I am, standing outside, heart pounding, a few shivers creeping up my spine, waiting for a strange spectacle that defies reason, logic, and every conceivable form of sanity: the mysterious lights of Coahuila.
I’m not talking about some gentle, celestial glow that makes poets weep or a sweet reminder of a million Hollywood sci-fi movies. These lights are something else, something that seems to seep out from the fabric of the night itself, something with a dreadful, inexplicable urgency. When the lights first appear, the air grows colder, your breath hangs heavier, and every instinct in your bones says, “Run. Leave.” But no one ever does, not me, not the other stunned witnesses. Instead, we just stand there, rooted in place, mesmerized and horrified at the same time, like moths who’ve flown a bit too close to the flame but can’t quite bring themselves to pull back.
