As a child raised in the heart of Texas, USA, I grew accustomed to the impassive swelter of Houston, the quintessential spirit of southern hospitality, and the tranquility that radiated beneath the city’s hustle and bustle. The Lone Star State was a haven, until one day, it wasn’t. It was the day where I met a human monster named Miguel Suarez.
Miguel Suarez, the name still triggers a cascade of horrific memories. His notoriety reached an all-time high after a flurry of gruesome attacks launched on innocent Houstonians. As one of the survivors, I find it hard to speak about it, but I believe sharing my story has its therapeutic value. Above all, it’s an account that needs telling.
Consequently, the once vibrant city of Houston saw its allure fade. Prominent buildings turned into ghostly silhouettes against the night sky. Streets, once throbbing with life, echoed with menacing silence. People were apprehensive. Fear was in the air. This was not the Houston we were accustomed to; the city had lost its soul.
I was an unsuspecting victim. On a fateful evening, my peaceful world collided headfirst with Suarez’s path of destruction. The day started routinely. I had just closed from work, and was heading home.
After exiting the bus, I commenced my usual 15-minute walk home. Miguel Suarez was lurking in the shadows, stalking his next prey. Suddenly, I felt a chill run down my spine, and not from the Texas cold. I had the eerie feeling of being watched.
Scarcely had the feeling sunk in when I saw Suarez: a tall figure, enshrouded in darkness, advancing menacingly towards me from across the street. I recognized him instantly – his menacing profile had been all over the local news. Terror gripped me. I froze in my tracks, paralyzed by the impending danger.
The next few moments were a blurred whirl of fear and adrenaline. I remember the rush of terror, followed by a burst of desperate courage. I remember screaming, and then somehow – miraculously – breaking free from the paralytic shock that held me in its grip. I remember running.
I ran as if my life depended on it, because it did. Aided by the cloak of darkness, I managed to escape his clutches. I arrived home, panting, crying, but alive. That night, Houston’s police force was alerted, and further steps were taken to protect its frightened citizens.
In time, Suarez was apprehended, and Houston started to heal. Life was returning to a fragile normalcy. Still, the scars left by Miguel Suarez’s reign of terror on the innocent and unsuspecting victims of Houston, Texas, are etched deep.
I am a survivor, I tell myself each day. However, the layer of fear still remains, and I am constantly aware of the darker side of life that lurks in unexpected corners. I am not just a survivor of Miguel Suarez’s attacks, I am a survivor of a real horror story, set in the midst of ordinary life, in a city embedded deep in my heart.
Nevertheless, I am not giving up on my city, Houston, that stood strong in face of adversity. We find strength where there appears to be none. The Lone Star state, known for its emblem of resilience, has reinforced its image. We’ve emerged stronger than ever, more vigilant, with a renewed respect for life, appreciating the fact that we have survived. Houston has survived.
This is my story. A story of fear and resilience, of horror and survival. A story of Houston – my city, my home.
Originally posted 2023-12-04 23:51:21.