The Swamp

In the third entry from a local of a small, unnamed town, the swamp just outside of town holds something that shocks the residents.

The stretch of swampland that borders part of the outskirts of town has always been shrouded in mystery. The wind rustling through the reeds makes a sound almost like whispering, calling forth anyone intrepid enough to set foot into the water-logged outgrowth. Cypress trees twist upward from the moist earth like arms stretching their leafy fingers to the heavens. The patches of darkness between the foliage seem to glitter with the eyes of unseen figures. The children in town have always been warned not to stray too close to the bog’s edge. Even the adults keep a fair distance. However, we do know that our fears are well-rooted, as not everyone who sets off into the swamp returns. No one truly knows exactly what happens to those who are lost in the bog’s embrace, but, due to what has been found there by both I and another local, we have a pretty good idea.

 It was late in the day, the sun just beginning to sink below the horizon. I was out for a walk to enjoy the evening. In fact, I enjoyed it so much that I completely lost track of where I was going. I had no idea where I was until I saw the telltale cattails and cypress knees of the swamp. Looking up, I realized that I was right on the perimeter of the swampland. A bit jarred by the fact I had almost walked headlong into the bog, I began to turn around. As I pivoted, something white nestled in a bed of tall grass caught my eye. I was hesitant to investigate, given where I was, but my curiosity soon got the best of me. As I edged closer to the clump of reeds, I could better make out what the object was. It looked brittle and elongated, and was a sickly shade of yellowish-white. It took me a shocking amount of time to realize that I was looking at a bone. Startled, I jumped back slightly. I narrowed my eyes and studied it. It had an odd protrusion on one end, and a rounded edge on the other. Something clicked in the back of my mind. It was a human femur bone. I felt as though I was going to be sick. Not wanting linger there any longer, I took off running in the direction of the town, shaken by what I had just seen.

 About a week later, just after dark, I was making my way through the center of town when I heard a commotion from behind me. I whirled to see a large group of people gathering around two men. Scenarios flashing through my head, I made my way over to the excitement. Craning my neck over the crowd, I saw something that violently clashed with what I had expected. One man was trying to comfort the other, who was ranting and raving, a wild look in his eye.

“It’s alright, you’re fine, just tell me what happened!”

The second man took a long, shuddering breath, and was, at last, comprehensible.

“I got lost and took a wrong turn...found myself in the swamp...and there were...bones...piles of them….” He began to shudder uncontrollably as he continued. “All in the reeds...just heaps of bones...they were human...and there were sounds...surrounding me...rustling...and breathing...and...snarling….” The people in the crowd looked at each other, murmuring worriedly. This man was one of the few who had actually come back alive from that dreaded bog, and it seemed that our fears were confirmed. While we have yet to find exactly what sort of horrors reside there, to this day, it’s common knowledge that, after dark or not, one doesn’t go in the swamp.

Author's Note

This is the third chapter/section of my book, Strange Happenings. It's pretty short, but there will be plenty more chapters. For context, read the rest of the book. Please feel free to post your feedback. I will continue to post chapters as I finish them.