Ethereal Chronicles

He loved his wife, but he was drawn to the company of younger women. He admired their unblemished bodies, untouched by the hardships of age or childbearing, their breasts round and full. And gradually, as his attraction to his wife waned, his nights away grew longer, entangled with woman after woman. What began as a fleeting interest spiralled into a compulsion, a shameful addiction that he could not bring himself to stop, nor admit to.

One night, he had gone out drinking, with the usual intention of picking up a woman off the streets, any woman, so long as she was pretty. And it was on this night that he noticed a particularly beautiful woman, standing at the end of the road before him as he left the bar he had long grown accustomed to.

His sobriety had been lost long before in the earlier hours of the night, and he stepped out foolishly, shuddering and staggering like a fool. Desperately, he reached out for the woman before him. His eyes lusted over her figure, greedily tracing her curves, watching the shine of her long, dark hair. He had never wanted anyone so badly before.

The woman laughed then, a soft giggle that compelled him to step forward.

“Wait.” He slurred.

“Come.” She said, not turning to face him, but beckoning for him to follow.

And so he did. He followed her blindly, like a puppy following its owner, driven by a need he knew so well yet could not explain. He was so intensely focused on her that he did not notice the street had grown darker, more silent, the lampposts either dead or gone. He was alone.

She stopped then, and he breathed heavily, reaching forward to let his hand touch hers, desperate to see her beauty up close.

She looked down at his hand, at the gold on his finger. “You are married?” She whispered, her tone accusing.

He shrugged. “She doesn’t mind.”

“I’m sure.” The woman said, turning around.

His gaze quickly shifted from lust to horror as he found himself face to face with the skeletal form of a horse, its sallow, empty eye sockets boring into his. It stank of death, the bone stained with blood and rotting flesh.

“My god.” He gulped, drawing back, but her grip on his hand was as strong and unyielding as iron.

“What’s wrong?” The creature tilted its head, leaning forwards. “Don’t you want a kiss? Isn’t that what you all want? To kiss anyone but those who give their lives for you? Their love for you?”

He could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest, so harshly he thought he might die.

“You will.” She rasped, reading his thoughts. “You will die.”

Cegua is an entity from Central American folklore, primarily targeting men who are unfaithful to their partners.

APPEARANCE AND ATTRIBUTES

From behind, Cegua is an alluring woman, with long, sleek hair and an appealing figure with little to no clothing. But her face is a creation of horror, a skeletal image of death and decay which comes as a significant shock to anyone who comes across her.

If the initial terror fails to kill a victim, the unfortunate soul is cursed to see her face for the remainder of his days, until he finds himself plagued with irreversible insanity.

At first, Cegua presents herself in a state of misleading beauty, revealing her figure only from behind, enticing men to follow her away from areas of safety before showing her horrifying, disfigured face to them.

In some cases, although very few, Cegua may take it upon herself to target children, appearing in the form of their mothers to mimic feelings of comfort before cruelly killing them.

CEGUA IN MEXICO

In Mexico, Cegua is commonly known as the “horse faced woman”. In some cases, she is related to La Llorona.

In almost every story, Cegua is found in quiet, dimly lit places, usually at night, targeting womanisers and drunkards. She is always observed from behind, sometimes walking away from her victim, attracting them by flaunting her physique, while her face remains covered by her hair or a long veil.

The besotted individual may shower her with compliments, attempting to flirt with her while imploring her to show him her face. When she eventually does so, one glance at her face causes the victim to flee with horror. Should she manage to make physical contact, death comes swiftly, and inevitably.

Cegua’s appearance varies from one tale to another. In some, she bears the likeness of a horse, while in others she may resemble a pig, the skull of a horse, or appear as a rotting corpse. In other versions, she is described as having a horse face with human skin. Regardless of her form, her visage is enough to terrify those who see it, often leading them to swear off alcohol and relationships with women forever…provided they manage to escape.

In many variations, Cegua’s origins are attributed to infidelity or a curse inflicted on her, making her a vengeful demonic entity seeking revenge.