La Leyenda de Elena Vazquez
The Setup
A.Jay F. Roy The Destined Teller of Tales and licensed real estate agent, sits at the head of the conference table in the cramped break room of Lone Eagle Realty. The overhead fluorescent light flickers intermittently, casting shifting shadows across the faces of three newly licensed agents who've just completed their first week on the job.
One of them, a young woman named Sarah, nervously adjusts her name tag while recounting her first solo open house the day before. "I swear, something felt off about that last visitor. He kept asking weird questions, and when I asked if he had an agent, he just... smiled. It gave me chills." Chills.
Roy's weathered hands pause over his coffee cup. His expression grows serious. Silence. The casual chatter of the other agents fades. His gravelly voice cuts through the room.
"You want to know why you should always trust those chills? Let me tell you about the Mystique of Mesquite. And why every agent in this business needs to know her story."
The Tale
Roy leans back in his chair, studying the faces of the new agents with the careful attention of someone who's learned that some stories are more than just entertainment.
"This happened back in 1961, long before I was born," he begins, his voice taking on the measured cadence of a man who's told this story before, but never lightly.
Mesquite. Summer of 1961. A young real estate agent, Elena Vasquez. She was hosting an open house in a quiet neighborhood. The afternoon sun streamed through the windows of the modest ranch-style home as she waited alone, her long black hair pinned back professionally, wearing her best navy pantsuit. Alone.
At exactly 3:02 PM, a well-dressed gentleman arrived. He was charming, spoke softly, and had an unusual intensity in his dark eyes. Elena, eager to make her first sale, forgot to ask the standard qualifying questions—did he have an agent? Was he pre-approved? What was his budget? Something about his presence made her mind feel clouded, distant. Hazy.
As she showed him through the house, room by room, Elena began to notice troubling details. His footsteps made no sound on the hardwood floors. When he asked to see the closets, his smile stretched too wide. His reflection in the bathroom mirror seemed... wrong.
Flickering like a dying lightbulb.
In the back bedroom, as she opened the closet door to show him the storage space, he grabbed her wrist. His grip was ice-cold, and in that moment, Elena saw his true face—hollow eyes that held centuries of malice, skin that seemed to shift and crawl. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came.
Elena disappeared that afternoon. For three weeks, search parties combed Mesquite. They found her car still parked outside the open house, her purse on the kitchen counter, her shoes neatly placed by the front door. But Elena was gone. Gone.
On the twenty-second day, a jogger found her body in a field of mesquite trees, clutching an ornate skeleton key that no one could identify. The coroner's report was sealed, but rumors spread among the EMTs about strange markings on her skin—symbols that seemed to move when you looked directly at them.
The Legend Lives On
Roy pauses, glancing around the table at each of the new agents. Sarah has stopped fidgeting with her name tag and is leaning forward, completely absorbed.
"Now, since 1961, Elena has become the protective spirit of not just Mesquite, but of every real estate agent who finds themselves in danger," Roy continues, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. "She appears to those in mortal peril, and I can tell you from personal experience—" he taps the table twice with his knuckle "—she's saved more than a few of us over the years."
Roy explains that Elena manifests most commonly in three ways:
* The Guardian of Open Houses: Real estate agents working alone report a beautiful woman in professional attire appearing during dangerous situations. She whispers warnings about potential buyers with "wrong energy," guides agents away from isolated showings, and has been known to make phones mysteriously lose signal when someone with ill intent approaches a property.
* The Shadow Whisper: People walking alone at night—especially women—report feeling a presence behind them, a gentle whisper in their ear urging them to "take the other path" or "call someone now." Those who heed these warnings later discover they avoided areas where crimes occurred that same night.
* The House Key Oracle: In homes where domestic violence or abuse is occurring, residents report finding antique skeleton keys in impossible places—inside sealed jars, frozen in ice cubes, tucked into closed books. The keys serve as omens, encouraging victims to unlock their courage and seek safety.
Her Modern Manifestations
Elena appears as she did in life—stunningly beautiful with long, flowing black hair and wearing professional attire. But witnesses note her otherworldly qualities: her eyes hold depths that seem ancient, her voice carries an echo as if spoken from a great distance, and she often holds a glowing, ornate key that pulses with ethereal blue light.
She never speaks of her own death, instead focusing entirely on protecting others from the darkness she encountered. Her presence brings both comfort and urgency—the feeling that immediate action must be taken to ensure safety.
The Warning Signs
People protected by Elena report common experiences:
* A sudden chill in warm weather
* The faint scent of mesquite wood smoke
* Seeing a woman's reflection in mirrors or windows when no one is there
* Finding doors they clearly remember locking standing mysteriously open
* Electronics malfunctioning in ways that force them to leave dangerous situations
The Mesquite Covenant
Roy's expression grows solemn as he reaches the end of his tale. One of the newer agents, a young man named Marcus, asks quietly, "Have you ever seen her yourself, Roy?"
Roy is quiet for a long moment, his weathered hands wrapped around his coffee cup. Finally, he nods.
"Twice. Once in 2021 when I was showing a property to a man who turned out to have a warrant for assault. And again in 2023." He doesn't elaborate on the second encounter, but the gravity in his voice suggests it was significant.
"Local folklore says Elena's spirit is bound to our profession by an ancient covenant—she cannot rest until she has saved as many souls as the evil that claimed her has corrupted. Some say she's close to fulfilling this sacred debt. Others believe her vigil is eternal, that as long as people like us work alone in empty houses with strangers, Elena will be there watching over us."
Roy stands up, signaling the end of his story, but his final words carry the weight of both warning and comfort:
"The old-timers taught me that if you're ever in real danger—not just in Mesquite, but anywhere—whisper her name three times: 'Elena, Elena, Elena.' And if you're very lucky—or very much in need—you might catch a glimpse of dark hair, hear the whisper of warning, and feel the protective presence of the woman who gave her life to keep the rest of us safe."
Sarah raises her hand tentatively. "So when I felt those chills yesterday..."
Roy's weathered face breaks into a knowing smile. "Trust those instincts, darling. Always trust those instincts. Because in this business, sometimes they're all that stand between you and something that means you harm."
"She who was taken protects those who might be taken. She who was silenced gives voice to the voiceless."
Alone. In real estate, no agent works alone.