Sometimes evil is such a part of one’s everyday life, such a fixture in the décor of people who mostly walk with their heads down and their eyes proverbially shut, that it’s easy to miss.
There may be such a place in Valencia Park in San Diego, a community defined by its socioeconomic and architectural diversity, its crosswalks dotted with palm trees, and its proud residents.
It is also – some say – defined by the sinister force which exudes emotional putrescence from somewhere within its borders.
There Is A Path In Valencia Park Where Evil Sits Rotting
Nestled in the trees behind a series of houses along a bend in Elk Street there is a path. If you were to look at it from the street, you wouldn’t notice a lot about it perhaps, other than the fact that it is shaded and therefore somewhat darker than the surrounding areas of brightly-lit San Diego desert country.
But if you were to move closer (and if local rumors are to be believed, you probably shouldn’t), you might begin to see things…hear things…even smell things. And none of them are good.
“A domain of evil it is,” says a passing skateboarder in a pretty decent imitation of Yoda from Star Wars. He’s smiling, but then his face changes: “In all seriousness, dude, I wouldn’t go there, and I definitely wouldn’t go there at night if you know what’s good for you.” What, one wonders, is the worst that can happen?
“Couple of my friends took that path one day on a dare,” he says; I note that he is a chain-smoker, and talking about this seems to make him nervous…each new cigarette shakes in his fingers as he lights and smokes it. “You couldn’t pay me enough money to do that, but they did. And you know what happened?”
Demonic Forces Live Somewhere Down The Dark Path, And They Will Come For You
Apparently, the skateboarder’s friends survived, but received the fright of their lives. “Something flew out at them, dude; something like…I dunno, bats, except that they had human faces and they were screaming. My friends…my friends came away crying, and it wasn’t too long after that that one of them moved away to Phoenix…I haven’t heard anything from him since.”
The dimly-lit path is home to a serious overgrowth of trash weeds and old, gnarled trees which seem to have lived well past their prime. A smell of old garbage pervades, and everywhere along the path one can come across all sorts of refuse; it’s hard to miss the general aura of evil whenever one leaves the safety of the street and walks into the tall grass.
Whether or not local legends about it are true, one certainly cannot ignore the fact that some of the residents of the area report having come into contact with evil forces on or sometimes even just near it. And be careful if you ever find yourself in the area: something wicked this way comes.