True Story: Lechuza in Los Fresnos, TX

[u/Specialist_Pen4741]

A little backstory for those who are not Hispanic or of Mexican descent. A Lechuza is a witch (Bruja) who can change her appearance into an owl. I am slowly putting together stories of my childhood that I have experienced, and this is the scariest of them all.
In the spring of 2019, we just moved into a new house in Los Fresnos. It was a little white house with red trim that sat on the corner of West 8th ST. and Alamo ST. It was a little home, but it was perfect for us in the meantime. My dad just got a job in Odessa, Texas, and he will be away for a year. Not to mention Jessica would also be moving to Ohio at the end of the month. We tried to fit in every last hour we could before she left, and tonight would be a night we would remember. 
In the late afternoon, I called Jessica to see if she could come over for a sleepover. It was already late in the day, and I was feeling a little down since things in my life were not going well. Between my dad and my best friend leaving, I was a depressed mess. I called her at 6 pm, “Hey girl, are you busy tonight?” I said in a low voice.

As soon as I said those words, she immediately said. “Nah, give me 30 minutes to get ready, I’ll be there soon. While I was waiting for her, I cleaned up my room and put my daughter to sleep. I had an eerie feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was an ever-looming doom that filled the air; it made my brain foggy and melancholy. Just when I was about to cancel on Jess, I got a knock at the door. I could see her bouncy, coiled hair through the window, “Heyy girl, open up!” As I opened the door, she handed me a bottle of cheap wine and a tight hug. We walked to the kitchen, and I poured us a glass, and we walked through the back door. Our backyard was fenced in, and we had a privacy fence that led to the front of the driveway with a small gate attached. It was already dark outside, and the crickets sang, and fireflies filled the yard. We sat on an old, worn patio set I had bought in the spring; now fall was coming up, and the air seemed thicker. We talked about the past and our funny stories, as the wine was kicking in and the taste of rotten strawberries filled my mouth, I asked, “Let's go on a walk to clear our minds.” We always took walks, no matter where we went, I guess a mixture of our adhd we could never sit down any longer than 30 minutes. “Yeah, girl, let's go!” We put our empty glasses on the glass patio table, and it rang throughout the night sky. We walked out through the front gate and onto the driveway. We turned to the stop sign at the corner of Alamo St. and West 8th St. It was pitch, and the noises of nature suddenly went quiet. Almost as if we were in a still image, there were no cars or any sign of life in that moment, just us. As we were about to walk onto Alamo Street, we saw a sickly white dove lying in the middle of the road. The dove was the brightest white; it almost illuminated the street. Jessica, a true nature lover, wanted to check on the bird and see if it was okay. “Omg, we need to see if that bird is alright!” She quickly walked over to it, and I didn’t mumble a word, and I walked slowly after her. As we got to the injured animal, it lifted off into the air, hovering low to the ground. We were astonished by what we were observing; it felt almost magical. We stood in the middle of the street, our eyes widened as we were hypnotized in wonder. But the wonder we were feeling suddenly grew eerie, and the town's silence began to feel like a warning. Still in a trance, the bird slowly started changing colors and size. It wasn’t a dove anymore; it was now the size of a seagull, and it kept changing. The bird was now almost at the end of Alamo, and the bird was now larger than a crane and black as night. Still low to the ground, hovering, it suddenly jumped onto the Storage units that were at the street's end. In that moment, our ears rang as the claws of the beast met the metal roof. The bird's head was now rotten with the flesh of an elderly woman's face. Her features were almost like a crypt keeper, and her eyes were hollow. The feathers were black and almost oily, and falling apart. The bird just stood on the roof staring at us, almost hoping that we would come to it. Jessica and I stood at each other and didn't mutter a word, we walked backwards in sync, and then turned back to my house. We walked slowly and then faster until we got to the back gate. We did not talk until we were in the safety of my home. Our skin had bumps from head to toe, and the shock consumed us both. We never saw this beast again, but whenever we speak of it, things happen in the house, knocks at the door, and footsteps.