In the heart of the tiny city of Valencia, Venezuela, there was an elegant mansion tucked away among the narrow alleys. This grand house was owned by the Rodríguez family, a well-off couple with a young son named Andres. Andres’ parents were often caught up in business meetings, leaving him to spend most of his time with his nanny, Lorena. Though Lorena cared for Andres as if he were her own child, the bond between them was not merely one of employer and servant. Lorena’s love for Andres grew deep, and she often wondered what the child’s life might have been like if his parents had spent more time with him. Life at the Rodríguez mansion was rich in luxury, but Andres’s world was one of solitude. Lorena lived in a small apartment quite far away and only had one full day off each month. Despite the long hours of work and low pay, Lorena always stayed, knowing that her presence was the only comfort Andres had in this lonely house. One evening, Lorena returned from her day off to find Andres upset and anxious.

“What's wrong, mi amor?” Lorena asked, taking the young boy’s hands in hers. “My parents… they don’t care. They don’t even see how unhappy I am,” Andres said softly, his voice trembling. “They won’t listen when I ask for help.” Lorena’s heart broke at the words. She understood Andres’s pain all too well. She wished she could do more, but her own struggles weighed heavily on her. Her son, Camilo (meaning free-born, but ironic because he is not born free), had fallen seriously ill and needed medical attention. But as much as Lorena begged, the Rodríguez family remained indifferent, absorbed in their own wealth and expansion. Later that night, Andres and Lorena shared a meal in the large dining room, both feeling the weight of the evening’s conversation. Suddenly, they heard a strange sound—a soft scraping, like a stone dragging across the floor. Andres and Lorena exchanged a puzzled glance before quietly moving toward the noise.

They get up and walk toward the sound. To their surprise, they see, at the far end of the room, in the darkened hallway, stood a small girl. Her face was pale, her clothes worn, but in her hand, she held a flickering candle that lit her way. In the other hand, she was carefully lifting one of the wooden floorboards. With the creak of old wood, she revealed a small hole beneath it, and, as if expecting them, she began to pour something into it. The sound of metal clinking against stone echoed through the room as Lorena and Andres watched in silence, too stunned to move. The girl finished, placed the floorboard back into position, and walked away, leaving the candle behind.

On the eighth night, Andres reached for more coins but slipped and fell into the hole. Lorena dropped the candle, plunging them into darkness. When she managed to relight it, the hole vanished, as did both Andres and Lorena. The mansion remained empty, leaving only whispers of what happened. People say the mansion is cursed, haunted by those who hear faint cries for help.