Salvador Freixedo: Julio and the Magic Box

 

Salvador Freixedo: Julio and the Magic Box

I will recount this case exactly as the witness himself told it to me—a witness who granted me permission to do so only after much hesitation, and under the strict condition that I omit any details that might lead to his identification.

Some years ago, incidents such as this one tended to undermine the credibility of the UFO phenomenon and discouraged researchers who considered themselves "scientists." Today, however—after thirty long years—the most astute researchers, and to some extent the general public, are far more prepared to accept this paranormal aspect of the phenomenon. They are likewise becoming increasingly convinced of its many paraphysical aspects—facets that so deeply intrigue, and even exasperate, those versed in the physical sciences.

I shall therefore omit names and locations, just as requested by the contact—a man who has already suffered enough from having been a silent witness, for so many years, to events so mind-boggling and "impossible."

A little over forty-five years ago—when our witness (whom we shall henceforth call Julio) was less than ten years old—he looked up to see something hovering directly above him. This occurred in a region that has long been a hotspot for UFO activity; the object floated in the air at an altitude of roughly twenty meters. Naturally, he had no idea what the object was, for he had never in his life heard of such a thing; yet his innocence as a country boy, combined with the natural curiosity of his age, compelled him to investigate and discover what this strange object floating in the air might be.

Instead of fleeing in fear, he devoted himself to observing it. After a short while, he felt himself being lifted upward; moments later, he found himself inside a circular chamber filled with a light "unlike that of the Sun," and surrounded by objects and devices that were not merely unfamiliar to him, but utterly unlike anything he had ever seen before. He had not yet recovered from his astonishment when he saw a little girl, about six years old, approaching him with a broad smile and a playful air; indeed, she immediately began showing him all the toys she kept in that peculiar house.

Julio observed everything with rapt attention; and although he realized he was witnessing things that bore no resemblance to anything he had ever seen before—whether in his parents' humble home or anywhere else—he felt no fear, but rather a genuine interest in everything being shown to him. The girl continued displaying her toys until she came to one that would prove to be the central object of this case.

The toy was a small box, measuring approximately 20 x 20 x 10 cm, with nothing on its exterior to hint at its immense potential. The girl would place her small hands upon it, and instantly, a sort of vapor—composed of countless tiny lights—would begin to form atop the box, spinning at dizzying speed until, almost abruptly, a small humanoid creature would materialize before them. It stood about a meter tall and possessed an intelligence comparable to that of a monkey. It did not speak, and it appeared utterly bewildered by the place in which it suddenly found itself—as if it had been brought there against its will.

The girl was able to summon as many creatures from the box as she pleased—all resembling the first—and every one of them obeyed her without a murmur, even when she sent them back inside, making them vanish into the box in the same mysterious manner in which she had conjured them. First, she would transform them into that vaporous substance, which would then suddenly rush inward through a narrow slit. I say she made them vanish *inside* the box because, evidently, the creatures could not possibly have fit within it—not even a single one of them. It gave, rather, the distinct impression that they were dematerializing.

Julio spent a considerable amount of time inside, chatting with the girl and marveling at the many things she showed him, until at last, the time came for him to leave. Then the girl asked him if he wanted to keep the box, for he had shown such great enthusiasm as he watched her pull those little "figures" out of it with such ease. Without giving it much thought, he said yes, and she handed it over to him.

They lowered him down in the very same way they had hoisted him up, and—lo and behold—Julio found himself the possessor of something that, from that moment on, would become the very center and preoccupation of his entire life.

Naturally, he guarded his mysterious box with great zeal—going so far as to hide it from overly prying eyes—yet he did not make of it an inviolable secret. He took great delight in secretly showing it to his little friends; he recalls staging a sort of miniature circus (for which he charged an admission fee of one cent) wherein he would draw one of those creatures out of the box, to the utter astonishment of his young schoolmates. Grown-ups never attended these boyish "fantasies," and in doing so, they mirrored on a small scale exactly what society does on a large one: if any of their children happened to tell them what they had seen, they simply dismissed it as "childish imagination." Although it is also true that Julio never...

...no "little figures" ever appeared whenever an adult was present. This contributed to the notion that it was all just "kids' stuff."

But then, something unexpected happened. The girl had clearly explained to Julio exactly how to go about getting the "little figures" back inside the box; yet Julio, despite his best efforts, simply could not manage it. As soon as the creatures recovered from their initial astonishment, they would linger beside the box for a while—as if awaiting Julio’s orders—though they displayed signs of extreme nervousness. Later, when he attempted to put them back inside and failed, they would suddenly dart away at dizzying speed, vanishing into the undergrowth.

These creatures soon became a heavy burden for Julio; far from disappearing, they began to pester him and make his life miserable. To begin with, whenever he used the laying-on of hands to summon them forth from the box, they did not emerge as easily or naturally as they did for the girl. On the contrary, when they materialized before his eyes, they appeared utterly vexed—as if they had been forcibly dragged there from somewhere else—and would begin glancing frantically in every direction, displaying signs of acute agitation as they sought an escape route. Indeed, they would flee within a matter of seconds, moving with electric speed, never allowing anyone to catch or even touch them. In fact, they seemed hostile toward people—though adults, for some reason, appeared unable to see them at all.

Children and animals—dogs in particular—however, saw them quite clearly and would flee from them at full speed.

After some time, these creatures began to venture closer to Julio’s house, and soon they were prowling the grounds at all hours of the day and night. Occasionally, they would approach him—he being the only person they ever treated this way—and would even go so far as to touch him, displaying very little respect for him; they even dared to play crude, tasteless pranks on him. For years, whenever Julio wandered across the countryside, they accompanied him—though always at a certain distance. People could not see them, but—as I mentioned—animals could; they would flee immediately whenever *they* drew near, displaying signs of great fear or agitation.

Julio did not know what to do; over the years, this situation has become an ordeal for him—one could even say it has fatefully marked his entire life.

Nowadays, he no longer carries the box with him; he threw it into the sea, weighted down with a stone, far from the shore. It seems that the box itself was what attracted the creatures, and indeed, they have not visited him for quite some time now.

At one point during our long conversation—though I have visited him several times since then—Julio said to me in a sorrowful tone: "Believe me, all I want is to die." When I asked him why, he replied—still speaking with the heavy air of a man bearing a great burden or deep anxiety: "I don't want to see any more strange things. All I want is to rest."

All of this left me with many unanswered questions. In truth, I got the impression that he still had more to tell me—things he was holding back—and that these unspoken matters were the very source of his profound weariness with life.

He links these creatures to various misfortunes that have befallen the region, believing them capable of inflicting great harm—and that, in fact, they do so from time to time. Apparently, they currently prowl near a specific spot in the mountains—the very place where he once kept the box hidden—and it has become dangerous for people to venture into that area. He specifically cited several deaths that he believed had been caused by them.

Although it has been many years since he released the last creature from the box, he still appears troubled and weighed down by the burden of the more than one hundred creatures he *did* release—beings that now pose a potential threat to the public. It seemed to me that he felt guilty for having brought them into this world, for it is evident that these creatures are forced to come to a place where they feel out of their element—wandering like lost souls, unable to find a way back to their own world—while he, too, remains powerless to help.

These are not Julio’s only adventures as a "contactee" from the beyond. Aside from these mysterious beings, Julio has, on several occasions, come into contact with spacecraft from other worlds and with their crews. But above all, he shared with me something of great interest to the general theme of this book—something that will resurface in later chapters.

For those unfamiliar with the subject, and for the inveterate skeptics, this is something that serves to undermine the credibility of the entire affair; yet for those of us who have been immersed in this field for years, it is something that—on the contrary—only serves to bolster it.

Julio confided in me, with great discretion, that on two separate occasions he was compelled to engage in sexual acts with strange women—beings who, though bearing a striking resemblance to human females, were nonetheless not *exactly* like them. One of these incidents, which took place atop a mountain, bears some resemblance to the classic case of Vilas Boas in Brazil, although in Julio’s case, everything took place outside the UFO rather than inside it.

The reader might assume that all of this is mere fantasy; however, Julio has witnesses—if not to prove that every detail of his account is absolutely true, then at least to attest that UFOs do indeed pass just a few meters above his roof exactly when he predicts they will, along with other strange occurrences. His wife and two of his daughters confirmed this to me, describing the object that drifted past—seemingly in slow motion—just a few meters above their rooftop. Other neighbors can attest to the same.

As for the "little figures" in the box, there are still a few people in their sixties who remember them. Two years after Julio first confided these details to me, I consulted my notebook, where I had jotted down the specific information he had provided. There, I found the name of one of his childhood friends—someone who had witnessed, on several occasions, Julio pulling those creatures out of the box. Julio knew that this friend lived in a specific neighborhood of a city some sixty kilometers away, and he gave me a concrete detail that would allow me to track him down. He told me that he had lost all contact with this person many years earlier, but I decided to seek him out anyway, hoping to corroborate this bizarre story.

It took me nearly a full day to track him down, but I finally found him. I spoke to him about his childhood, his hometown, and Julio. The moment I mentioned Julio’s name and asked if he remembered the "circus act" he used to put on, the man smiled; shaking his head with a gesture of sheer disbelief, he declared emphatically:

"That bastard—I have no idea how he did it."

"But what exactly did he do?" I asked.

"He had a shoebox, and out of it, he’d pull these little monkeys. The first time I saw them right there in front of me—begging your pardon—I wet my pants."

"And do you remember what they looked like?"

"Look, I was just a little kid back then." And so, I left that town very soon after. That was about fifty years ago, and I barely remember it now. What I *do* remember is that I saw them on only two occasions, and they terrified me so much that at night I would dream about them, wake up crying, and run straight to my parents' bed. Since this happened several times, they forbade me from hanging out with Julio.

"But what were those monkeys like?" I insisted.

"I don't remember very well. I hardly dared to look at them. They were as tall as I was and hideous, with pointed ears. And they moved at such a speed that sometimes they would vanish from sight. It was as if they were electric."

"And what became of them?"

"Well, I couldn't tell you."

"And how could you pull them out of a shoebox if they were as tall as you?"

"I asked myself that very question many times later on. Back then, I was so small that I didn't question it—aside from the sheer terror they inspired in me. On the other hand, there were some older boys who would tell me to 'bring out more.' Though, apparently, what I was doing didn't seem strange to them either."

I was barely able to get any more details out of him. But what he did tell me was enough to convince me that the things Julio had recounted to me were not merely figments of his imagination.

Subsequently—after having written the preceding lines, and while in the very same country where Julio resides—I established direct and frequent contact with an individual: a dedicated researcher of these phenomena. He has corroborated, in minute detail, many of the things Julio told me—with the remarkable distinction that this individual does not know Julio, nor does he have any prior knowledge of the events that befell him. This individual—whose home is quite isolated, nestled in the mountains—has on numerous occasions sighted strange beings that, broadly speaking, match Julio's descriptions. Moreover, he has not merely *seen* them; he has actually begun to establish a rapport with them—despite my having warned him that, in the long run, it is dangerous for humans to associate with such creatures Since writing these lines, I have re-established contact with that person—specifically to find out how things were going in his relationship with those creatures. He told me that he had to move out of that house because, whenever he was alone in it, the creatures would appear and besiege him in such a way that he eventually grew afraid of them.

[Note from Scott Corrales: The description of Julio’s para-apes strongly resembles the one offered by witnesses of the strange, long-eared ‘imps’ seen in Puerto Rico’s El Yunque mountain in the Caribbean National Forest]

(Cr: Salvador Freixedo, La Granja Humana (The Human Farm), Mexico: Editorial Posada)