It was a dark and stormy night ... at Nancy Carson Library
It was spooky business at Nancy Carson Library last Thursday, as students came to read their submissions in the annual Ghost Story Contest.
First place in the high school division went to Jackson Redd, a junior at North Augusta High School; second place, Jessica Kaczmarek, senior at North Augusta High School; and third place, Kayla Lee Vinson, junior at Augusta Preparatory Day School.
In the middle school competition, all three winners are seventh grade students at North Augusta Middle School. Camille Jewel Pierner took first place; Julie Brunson, second place; and Brielle Smith, third.
The Will O' the Wisp
By JACKSON REDD
The heavy silence of the secluded swamp was shattered by the crackle of breaking branches as Bruce Brookes barreled through the dense underbrush. He could feel his heart pounding as he slogged through the murky, pitch-black water, branches slapping his face and arms. It was getting dark, and the small bit of the sky that he could see was gradually turning a blackish-indigo color. If he didn't find his way out of this mess soon, he would be stranded here for the night, and that was a thought that did not appeal to him at all.
The swamp, which was known to the locals as the "Injun marsh," had the ancient haunting air that only the most isolated parts of the deep South possessed. The long strands of Spanish moss that hung from the branches of the rotting oaks swayed in the wind, casting dancing shadows across the landscape. The thick canopy of trees blocked most sunlight from the area, and it was said that in the deepest part of the swamp, pools of quicksand would pull unwary travelers to a terrible demise. People told tales about spook lights or will o' the wisps, that harassed travelers in the swamp. Legend had it that when the colonists had first explored the area in the early 1700s, they had been warned by local Indians that the place was a lair of evil spirits.
Bruce momentarily halted his battle with the overgrown swamp to gain his bearings. His eye frantically scanned the horizon, but the only thing visible was the endless forest of swamp oaks. How had this happened? It had been an average hunting trip, just another hog hunt notched into the belt of the Brookses family hunts. Only a few hours ago, Bruce had been joking with his cousin Steve as they were loading up their gear for the hunt, and now he was out here, stuck in the middle of a wasteland with no way out. He knew how it had happened. Bruce had been out in the swamp for about an hour after splitting up with his cousin when he found the sign of the largest hog that he had ever seen. He tracked it for a few hours until he had realized that he didn't know how to get it back. That had been about 1 p.m. and after the panic set in, he couldn't stop running.
As he trudged through the murk, Bruce began to think of the stories that he and his cousins had told each other about the swamp when they were kids. The story came to mind most was the scariest one that had been told around the bonfires. About 50 years ago, a man had been hunting in the swamp when he lost his way. The man had wandered until nightfall and was on the verge of giving up hope of rescue when he spotted a lantern light between the trees. Overwhelmed by relief, the man had run toward the light without a thought about his location and, when he looked down, he realized that he was standing waist-deep in a pool of quicksand. For the past half-century locals had reported seeing the ghost of the man wandering through the trees, beckoning others to join him in his fate.
Bruce laughed not a little nervously at the thought of the swamp being haunted. That kind of thing was the stuff that scared 10-year-olds at bonfires, and it shouldn't scare him. He continued to walk until it was so dark that he could hardly see his own hands. The sounds of night began to echo out across the dead quiet of the swamp, and Bruce's heart began to pound in his chest again. His imagination began to roam as he listened to the dark, and Bruce started to run again.
After running for several more hours, Bruce was on the verge of collapsing. His energy was spent, and he knew that if he kept running, he would not last the night. It was just then that he glanced at what looked like a flashlight swinging between the oaks. His heart leaped: he was saved! He began running toward the light, and contrary to the story that his cousin had told him, Bruce saw that the light was held by a person, not floating in mid-air.
Bruce began to heap his thanks upon the stranger when the man, if it could be called a man, turned toward him. Bruce's mouth began to tremble and his eyes widened as he took in the horrible visage of his so-called rescuer. The thing's skin was sheet-white and stretched across its face like a child's rubber mask. Its eyes and mouth were empty black sockets and its body was covered in rotting vegetation. It was like a living representation of the swamp itself, and it began to reach for Bruce.
Bruce turned to run just in time and escaped the creature's grasp by mere inches. As he ran through the swamp, he was reminded of a song by the band Creedence Clearwater Revival:
Go on and run through the jungle, Go on and run through the jungle, don't look back and see ...
He looked back, but the thing was still feet away from him. He could now see the edge of the swamp through and on the other side was clear land. He was safe! He was ... Bruce never got to finish his thought. He was pulled into the depths of the swamp's quicksand, only a few feet away from its edge.
A few days later, Steve was wandering through the swamp where his cousin had gone missing. It was pitch black and he could not hear any of the other members of the search party, but that was OK, he had a radio. Then he spotted a light in the distance. Steve began to walk toward it ...
See more scary stories from the Ghost Story contest at www.northaugustastar.com
