We
continue our A.M. Costa Rica series of
eerie stories inspired by Latin American
myths and superstitions.
Halloween might not
be a traditional holiday in Costa Rica
like it is in the U.S., but this little
country has plenty
of its
own ghostly legends and mysterious
figures, tales whispered through
generations that reveal its deep cultural
roots and love for storytelling.
The series began with “There’s a Lot to a Name,” an
original fantasy by A.M. Costa Rica’s
editor emeritus James Brodell, inspired by
the Santa Muerte tradition from Mexico.
Last week, we explored “La Segua,” one
of Costa Rica’s
most infamous phantoms, a
beautiful woman who appeared on lonely
roads, asking unsuspecting men for a ride
before revealing her terrifying face.
Now, we turn the page to one of the most
chilling legends of all: "The
Phantom Cart" or,
as it’s
known in Spanish, "La Carreta sin
Bueyes," the “Cart
Without Oxen.”
This tale has been
told for
generations to frighten drunkards and
sinners alike.
Expats
love hearing it, especially during the
heebie-jeebie season when strange things
tend to stir in the shadows.
According to Elías
Zeledón-Cartín’s
book Leyendas
Costarricenses (“Costa
Rican Legends”),
the story of the Phantom Cart goes
something like this:
On certain nights, when the moon hides
behind thick clouds and the streets are
darker than ink, people claim to hear the
clatter of wooden wheels echoing through
the distance.
But
when they look out their windows, there’s no
one there, only an empty ox cart, creaking
and groaning as it rolls through the
night, pulled by invisible oxen and guided
by no driver.
The
ghostly cart is said to appear near the
homes of wrongdoers, thieves, liars, or
anyone who recently passed away with a heavy
conscience. Its rattling wheels are a
warning: repent while you can, or risk being
taken for an eternal ride.
One version of the story says the cart
carries the bodies of those who died
traveling alone on deserted roads. Their
souls are forever trapped, doomed to wander
inside the creaking wagon until Judgment
Day.
Another version tells of a cruel Spaniard
known as Bad Pedro, who arrived in the New
World during the time of Columbus. Pedro was
notorious for his brutality toward the
indigenous people. One day, on the feast of
Saint Isidore the Laborer, the patron saint
of farmers and animals, Pedro tried to drive
his oxen cart straight into a church. The
priest, outraged by such disrespect, cursed
him to roam the earth forever, condemned to
ride his cart through the darkness with no
rest.
A third tale speaks of a greedy farmer from
Escazú town, near San José. He secretly
stole fine timber imported from
Europe, wood meant for the town’s
first church, and used it to build his
own house and cart. But Saint Joseph, the
patron saint of carpenters, saw everything.
When the thief refused to confess, the saint
cursed him to ride endlessly in the ghostly
cart he had built from stolen holy wood.
Historians believe the legend may have roots
in real events from the 1800s. During Costa
Rica’s first cholera epidemic, carts were
used to transport the dead through the
streets at night. The sound of their wheels
became a symbol of death itself.
Later, around 1856, officials in San José
ordered secret nighttime cleanings of
contaminated water pipes. Workers covered
their carts with black cloth and wore dark
clothes to avoid attention. Neighbors awoke
to the sound of carts rolling by, but when
they looked out, there were no animals, no
men... just the eerie squeal of wheels in
the dark.
And so, the Phantom Cart was born,
part warning, part omen, and entirely
bone-chilling.
So if you ever find yourself walking down a
lonely Costa Rican road at night and you
hear the slow creak of wooden wheels behind
you... don’t look back. Because the Phantom
Cart might just be coming for you.
Have a Pura
Vida
Halloween!
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