Woman Survives Spiritual Attack From Mother-in-Law's Witchcraft

My name is Marisol. I'm 32 years old today. But this story began when I was 26. I am an elementary school teacher in Zakutkas, a quiet city in central Mexico known for its beautiful cathedral and cobblestone streets. I was raised by my grandmother, an evangelical woman who taught me to pray from the time I was a little girl. She died 3 years before all of this happened, and I missed her terribly. If she had been alive, perhaps she would have warned me about what was coming.

I met Emiliano in 2014 in a simple way, the way these things usually happen. My car broke down downtown and I had to push it to the nearest mechanic's shop. He was the mechanic who helped me, a 29-year-old man with an easy smile and grease-stained hands, but a very polite way of speaking. He fixed my car and didn't charge me for the labor. He said it was a gift for a pretty girl who was having a difficult day.

I laughed. I thought he was bold, but I liked him. We started seeing each other after that day. At first, it was just to thank him. Then it became coffee together, then dating. Emiliano was hardworking, affectionate, and treated me as if I were the most valuable thing in the world. No man had ever treated me that way. We were humble people without much money, but we had more than enough love. At least that's what I thought at the time.

But there was something that made me uncomfortable from the beginning. Emiliano called his mother every day, sometimes three or four times. In the morning to wish her good morning, in the afternoon to find out if she had eaten, and at night to wish her good night. When I asked him about it, he changed the subject. He said she was a widow, that she was alone, and that it was his duty as a son. I tried to understand, but deep down I felt there was something strange about such intense devotion.

My first meeting with Doña Refugia was on a Sunday afternoon about 4 months after we started dating. I had prepared a treshe with all my heart. I put on my best clothes. I practiced a smile in front of the mirror before leaving home. I wanted to make a good impression. After all, she was the mother of the man I loved. I was nervous but excited. I thought we were going to get along. When we arrived at her house in the Guadalupe neighborhood, she opened the door and looked me up and down for about 5 seconds before saying anything.

She was a 58-year-old woman with dyed black hair and dark eyes that seemed to look straight through you. She didn't smile. She didn't hug me. She simply said in a dry voice, "So, you're her." She took the cake from my hands and placed it on top of the refrigerator without even looking at it. That cake stayed there all afternoon. She never ate a single piece. Six months later at our engagement, Doña Refugia didn't show up.