Swamp Lights

As a boy, I grew up in a small town called Jamestown of good ol’ South Carolina, USA. The town was near this swamp that went by the name of Hell Hole. It was even celebrated by the locals. They would host an annual festival on the first weekend of May each year. But I knew better, or so I thought.

I dared not go near for many a year. My Ma warned me about the lady who lived in Hell Hole. A beautiful lady, but dangerous, lurking and looking for little children to snatch. “Sacrifices” Ma called them. And every few years we would have travelers that passed through who would go missing. No one questioned it. No one, but me.

I was 11, it was the thick of summer, and I was on the presuppose of becoming a young man. I look back on it now, and I count my blessings knowing the true horror I escaped that hot July night.

I tossed in my twin size bed, heatsick and irritated. The sweat pooled on my mattress and the buzzings of mosquitoes rang like church bells in my ears. I couldn’t sleep - the endless night wouldn’t let me.

I sat up, swatting blindly at the air. My tired eyes adjusted to the shapes of the darkness. Slowly I stood from bed, inching my way across creaky floorboards to my door that never fully shut right, and walked down the stairs to the hum of the refrigerator.

I pulled back the sticky door - the cool air from the fridge hit my sweaty body as if I were jumping into an ice bath. It felt like heaven.

That’s when I heard it…

A shrill trill of squealing cut the silence like a guillotine’s first slice; sharp and quick. Then all was quiet, quiet as the dead. I waited, ears aching to hear something as I craned my neck. Nothing.

I turned back to the open fridge and reached for the carton of milk, took a swig, then another. I gulped hard trying to convince myself I was just sleepy. My mind was playing tricks on me. It was a gang of wild hogs in the night. Anything so I could go back upstairs and confidently sleep.

Just then the sounds tickled my ears again, both loud and distant, as if whispering right next to me and yet were miles away, echoing.

I let the fridge shut itself and the cold glow disappeared. I wandered at a snails pace to the open window. The night was still, calm even. The crickets sung in glorious symphony, frogs croaking by the pond over yonder.

As I retreated back to explore the ice box, a haunting chill crept up my body. My feet were frozen in my tracks. Not five feet from me stood a statuesque woman, tall and glistening like gossamer. She was golden haired, wrapped in a white dress, mysterious and ethereal. But before I could open my mouth she smiled and faded into the doorway.

Stunned and in shock I promptly leapt for the screen door, and as it clacked behind me I saw the most amazing thing! Hundreds of neon green fireflies twinkling against the black of night. I jumped from the porch steps and ran and danced around, giddy and unassuming. I chased the little glowing bugs as they flashed on and off like old lightbulbs.

And just as quickly as I’d forgotten that eerie woman, I was hit with a dizzy spell. I stopped spinning but my head felt like a merry go round. It took all in my power to yell for help, but nothing came out! I fell to my hands and knees, grasping the dirt. Just as I thought I was a goner, I looked up. The womanly spectre from my kitchen reached her hand out to me.

“Please!” I whispered as I reached out my arms. That’s when it all went black. The next thing I knew when I finally came to, I was being carried over a stinky mucky bog.

No, not carried - I was being floated.

All around me were green lights, glimmering around the swamp, and a soft melody sung that inspired both comfort and fear within.

“Follow sweet children, I'll show thee the way - Through all the pain and the sorrows; Weep not poor children for life is this way - Murdering beauty and passions. Hush now dear children, it must be this way! Too weary of life and deceptions. Rest now my children, for soon we'll away - Into the calm and the quiet!”

As I listened I realized it was no song of comfort, but an anthem of death and despair - but I couldn’t move! I was paralyzed. Whatever charm this enchantress used on me was wicked with intent. I was sure of it!

As I struggled to scream with no avail, the deadly tune she sang was burned into my head. Spellcastor, witch, whatever she was, she held me a prisoner with her voice of poison and doom. It wasn’t til the midnight hour we reached a small cottage hidden behind weeping willows and weeds.

The door opened with a flick of her finger and she pushed me through the narrow doorway. I floated into a chair and I sat there unable to move all but my eyelids. She locked the door from the inside with her jagged fingernail and turned to me. She smiled ear to ear.

Her grin chilled me to the bone. Despite the fire in the hearth beside me, all felt cold; dead. She slowly slunk towards me, moving like a water snake. My body may have been unable to move, but my insides trembled.

She moved her hand and I felt my tense body release - I could move again!

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you here…”

She posed a good question. Why HAD she brought me here? Before I could answer, she continued.

“Every few years a beast emerges from this swamp. And every few years, it chooses a target. And tonight, you were chosen.” She sat across from me, staring straight into my soul.

“M-m-me?” I stammered. “W-why me?”

“Those who do not pay homage, those who gawk and poke fun, and especially those who are young tend to be those it wants. It has a taste for children.”

I was stupefied… Me? Out of all the people around, some beast from below the bog wanted ME?! I sat in shock for a moment.

“But why am I here? Who are you?” I demanded answers.

“My name is not important. I am a conjuror of sorts. Some call me sorceress, others call me witch. I prefer magical practitioner. YOU are here because I am trying to help you, although I’m not sure I should. You’re being very ungrateful. But… I suppose you’re already here. Those lightening bugs outside of your house, those weren’t no ordinary lightening bugs. Those were spies, eyes for the beast. The beast is a blind creature who’s sense of smell is profound. It can smell disloyalty. Wait here with me till sun up and then you’ll be safe. Tonight’s the last night of its feeding cycle.”

She moved swiftly to her window.

“It’s coming, I can feel it.” She sniffed the air with a deep inhale. “Not long now.”

“I just want to go home.” I was tired and confused and was hoping this was a horrible dream. Just then there was a shift in the air. All around the cottage there started to illuminate a slow green glow. A loud thump came a few feet from beyond the door. I heard an ear piercing squeal ring out like a battle cry. And I knew I was very much awake.

She walked up to me and crouched to my eye level.

“I’m going to fight now. If I fail, you’ll be none the wiser for it, but let’s pray that I don’t. This won’t hurt a bit!”

She blew a handful of pink dust in my face and for a moment, everything looked like cotton candy, just clouds of pink nothingness. I closed my eyes for just a second, and as I opened them, rays of pink sun we’re splattered across my ceiling.

I was in my room. I rubbed my eyes not believing what I was seeing or where I was. I was home in my sweat stained twin bed, in my creaky room with the door that never lent to privacy. Sunrise was here and I was alive.

I sat up, and looked out to the sun coming up over the horizon. And as I took a deep breath remembering my dream, my eyes drifted to a figure walking across our field to the woods that surrounded the swamp - A woman with golden hair in a white dress.