I turned my attention back to the television, and soon I began to feel better. Then that feeling of disaster, a sort of panic came slowly over me once again, and I automatically began to glance out the window as before. I thought I was having an anxiety attack, because my hands began to shake and a feeling of fear began to take control of me. A friend of mine once had an anxiety attack when we were at a restaurant, so I am aware of the symptoms. I yelled to Becky, “Look at me; something is happening to me!” Becky came to my side and said, “ Donald, what is it, what’s going on?” After a few seconds, I decided to get up off the bed and walk to the bathroom, and splash water on my face. Becky followed, and looking at me through my reflection in the mirror, said, “Donald, should we take you to a doctor? You might be having a heart attack.” I answered, “No, no let’s just go get something to eat.” As quickly as this thing came over me, it left. I soon regained my composure and told Becky that I was feeling much better. Whatever it was that had come over me was now gone. We decided to leave the room, go down to the lobby and get some dinner.
I began to feel much better and even got lucky when I won $800.00 playing the $1.00 slots! At about 2 a.m. we decided to call it a night, and took the elevator to our room on the 14th floor. Getting ready for bed, I brushed my teeth, then closed the drapes and got into bed. We both quickly fell asleep, but my sleep did not last for long. I was awakened a few hours later when Becky grabbed my arm and shook me hard. “Donald, Donald, wake up, wake up, there is some guy in the room!” Becky said that she had awakened with the strong feeling of someone’s eyes staring at her. When she opened her own eyes she saw the figure of a young man standing next to the bathroom door. Out of fear she grabbed my arm and woke me from my sleep. I watched as Becky pointed me to look by the bathroom. At first, I didn’t see anyone and then I heard a loud “thud!” It sounded like someone had fallen to the floor. I leaped out of bed and cautiously turned on the lights. As I looked around the room, I noticed there was nothing out of place. As much as I could tell, we were alone in the room. I carefully walked to the closed bathroom door, reached for the knob, and opened it. I reached inside and felt for the light switch, then turned it on. There was no trace of anyone. Although we could easily explain away the figure of the guy Becky had seen as being a bad dream, we could not explain the falling thud sound we had both heard. Throughout the night, we would hear the thud sound again and again. Being too tired to stay up any longer and discuss it further, we returned to bed and fell asleep. The next morning Becky told me she was unable to sleep and was awake most of the night.
After breakfast we walked to the parking lot, got into our car and drove to the local mall to do some shopping. We entered a dress shop where Becky began a conversation with a fellow customer, a woman who happened to work in the same hotel where we were staying. She introduced herself to us and said she was a prep-cook there. The woman was a Paiute Indian from California and she and Becky hit it off right away. I excused myself, and decided to wait outside the store on a bench, while Becky finished her conversation. When Becky caught up with me, she told me that the woman had given her some strange information about the hotel where we were staying. Apparently, three days before, there was a guy who had unknowingly killed himself on the 14th floor of the hotel. He was a drug addict who mixed a batch of heroin in the bathroom of his hotel room and died of an overdose. While doing her job, the maid found the body the next morning. The Paiute woman had informed Becky of this after Becky mentioned that we were staying on the 14th floor. Although the woman was unaware of the dead man’s room number, she told Becky it was a room that had a window that faced the river below. The cook also had Becky promise that she would not tell anyone at the hotel about what she had said, for fear that she would lose her job.
Well, this new information sure did give us a new perspective. Becky became very nervous and told me she did not want to worry or scare me, but that the figure she had seen in our room the night before appeared to her once again that night. She told me that she did not get much sleep because the ghost made a sound that caused her to look in the direction of the bathroom. Once again, she spotted the ghost standing against the wall, in a leaning position. His eyes were dark black, and opened wide, and even though his mouth moved to make words, no sound came out. Then the ghost suddenly disappeared. Becky said she closed her eyes and convinced herself that what she had seen was something her imagination had made up, but she spent the night drifting in and out of sleep. With this new information, Becky and I returned to our hotel and demanded a room change. Since that weekend, we’ve not had another experience with the supernatural. And I have not had another anxiety attack or anything like one.”
Village of Arivaca
Arivaca, in southern Pima County about 11 miles north of Arizona’s border with Mexico and mapped by Father Eusebio Kino in 1695, is in an area which contains some of the oldest mines in the United States. Arivaca, which is unincorporated, is about 56 miles southwest of Tucson. The post office was established in 1878.
The locale may have been a Tohono O’odham Indian village before natives revolted in 1751 against the Spanish, who were attracted by precious metals and excellent grazing land. The Spaniards used forced local Indian labor to work these mines under the direction of Tumacacori Mission padres. In 1833, the Mexican government approved a petition by brothers Tomas and Ignacio Ortiz to raise cattle and horses on 8,677 acres of land that formed the Arivac Ranch. (The original Indian word, OLa AribacO, means small springs). Although boundaries for the ranch were never certain, the lands rights were quickly bought by the Sonora Exploring and Mining Company in the year 1856. This company operated mines near Arivaca and Tubac. Also located on the ranch were reduction works for the Heintzelman Mine.
Charles Poston, the father of Arizona, acquired the property in 1870 and later asked the U.S. Government to confirm his right to 26,508 acres. The U.S. Surveyor general recommended confirmation of 8,680 acres, but the U.S. Congress failed to heed this recommendation. Poston’s rights were obtained by the Arivaca Land and Cattle Company, which asked the U.S. Court of Private Land Claims to approve the land claim. The court refused, saying it was impossible to identify...the land, which was intended to be granted. The decision was upheld by the U.S. Supreme Court on March 24, 1902, and the land became part of the public domain.
Today Arivaca is primarily a retirement and residential area.
Francis Torres’s (Hispanic) Story
I interviewed Francis at her home. Arivaca is a small village town tucked within a quaint desert valley. Within this quiet town lies Frances’s two-bedroom home. Viewing it from the street, the house would not give any indication as to the frightening manifestations having transpired just a few years ago within its walls.
Francis preferred that I not describe the outside of her house because she said that by doing so, some neighbors might identify her and start to gossip. Given her concern, I have chosen to also not use her real name.
This interview was conducted in Francis’ kitchen. During the interview we kept hearing a few “thuds” coming from the walls. After the third thud, Francis excused her self, rose from her chair, walked to a back room and shortly thereafter returned to the kitchen holding a picture of St. Benidict and a lit candle. Francis said, “I’m not taking any chances. Whatever is here knows we’re talking about it. This should take care of them.” Francis then placed the picture and candle on the table and the interview continued without any further interruption.
— Antonio
“My story about “El Coyote” took place just a couple of years ago. I have made sure not to tell many people about what happened in the house because, being a small town, the gossip gets around really quickly. I used to rent and live in the house next to the one I now live in. I also knew the old woman who was the owner of the property. When I moved into the house next door, she and I began to talk and we became very friendly with each other. Some mornings we would have coffee in my kitchen. She sure was a talker. She told me about her son who lived in Tucson, and I got to meet him a few times before she died. I recall that the first time I visited her, she showed me around the inside of her home.
I