Denning Swamp - A Ghost Story



  Denning Swamp – A Ghost Story

  John T. Gaffield

  Copyright 2011 John T. Gaffield

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  The din from crickets and frogs from the nearby swamp echoed in Jack’s room through the open window. He stared at the ceiling from his bed, unable to fall asleep for some unknown reason. Beads of sweat accumulated on his brow from the heat. Suddenly a high pitched wail pierced through the other noises from outside. Startled, he slowly sat up in bed and gazed toward the window. Since the sound had an echo, it likely was not too close to the house. With no moon and cloudy skies that night, there was not much to see outside other than rough forms of dark gray and black. He slowly closed his eyes to focus on sounds. Save the occasional low pitch croak from a bullfrog, the noise was fairly constant. He was able to calm down.

  A louder lower pitch howl jolted him again. Not as muffled as the first sound, it was apparently closer. Something strange could be heard over the ambient sounds. It was similar to footsteps, but almost like someone sloshing through mud. The slow cadence gradually got louder. Was it approaching the house? At the point the sound seemed to be emanating just outside his open window, it stopped. He tried to listen very close despite the croaks and the pulsating blood flowing through his ears. He did not hear any similar sounds. With his heart rate steadily returning to normal, he lay down again and stared at the ceiling.

  A call from a red wing blackbird stirred him awake. The damp air filtered in through the open window. Jack opened his eyes to the muted morning light. Turning toward the window, Jack could see the cloudy gray skies and a light fog hovering over the swamp. His body ached as he planted his feet on the floor. This was likely due to only getting a few hours of sleep and the overtime he spent at the hardware store the previous day.

  With a slow inhale and exhale, he stood up from the bed. Wanting to further investigate the sounds he heard, he approached the open window. Peering out of the window to the ground below, he examined the long grass that came up to the house. He could see the packed down path he occasionally used to get to the edge of the swamp. Except for the path, no other vegetation appeared disturbed. Relieved, he stepped away from the window and faced the closet. He would need his work clothes, since he was scheduled to work again that Friday.

  After dressing, he opened his bedroom door into the unlit upstairs hallway. The daylight filtering through the glass in the front door on the first floor provided enough light to help guide his way down the steps. Still trying to awaken, he started to yawn near the bottom of the steps. He paused mid-yawn. Something glistened on the wooden floor beneath him. Kneeling down for a better look, he became aware that the wet shapes appeared to be footprints from a pair of boots. Rubbing his finger in one of the spots and examining it told him that the footprints were muddy.

  Puzzled, he stood up and reached for the nearby front door. It was locked. He followed the footprints down the first floor hallway to the back door. It also was locked, though the prints indicated someone had passed through the doorway. Was someone still in the house?

  Concerned, he stepped into the kitchen and retrieved a large knife from one of the drawers. Retracing the footprints, he walked back to the foot of the stairs. The footprints ended at the base of the steps. The last prints were together, as if someone stood at there for a moment to look up the stairs. Gripping the knife tightly in his hand, Jack trembled slightly as he frantically looked around the room. It was quiet. He could not hear any unknown noises.

  “Who’s here?” he asked aloud.

  No answer.

  “I know someone’s in here,” he tried again, as he slowly stepped toward the living room.

  The living room had been undisturbed and was silent. He stepped back into the foyer. With the knife at the ready, he quickly opened the coat closet near the door. Using the knife, he probed the hanging coats. No one was in there.

  “Damn!” he said in frustration.

  After another minute standing in the foyer, he slowly started making his way back to the kitchen for breakfast. As he walked, he considered calling the sheriff. He was not sure what they could do however. All he knew was that there appeared to be strange footprints inside his locked house, and that he did not know how they got there. He decided to wait. He would clean them up. If the footprints returned the next day, he would make the call. He then started making his breakfast.

  “Jack, are you okay?” Rob asked.

  “Huh? Oh yes, I was thinking about something,” Jack replied.

  “You look tired,” Rob noticed.

  “Not enough sleep last night, you know,” Jack commented.

  “Something keeping you up?” Rob asked.

  “Well, I was having trouble sleeping anyway, but I heard some strange noises last night,” Jack answered.

  “What kind of noises?” Rob asked.

  “Some kind of howl or wail outside the house,” Jack responded.

  “Some type of animal?” Rob inquired for more detail.

  “Not anything I’ve heard near the swamp before I moved into the house. Heard it the past few nights,” Jack answered.

  “Maybe you should close the window,” Rob said with a smile.

  “It’s stuffy enough without A. C. in the house as it is,” Jack answered.

  “Bet you’d have A. C. if Suzy was in the house,” Rob commented.

  “Had to bring that up, didn’t you. She cheated, I broke the engagement. At least I still have the house,” Jack responded.

  “Yeah, you might not if you followed, through,” Rob commented.

  “That’s true. I know I did the right thing there. Just not sure what to do about the weird stuff going on at night,” Jack added.

  “You had to get the old fixer upper near the swamp, didn’t you?” Rob said.

  “Well, the price was right and it’s peaceful there most of the time,” Jack replied.

  “There are all sorts of weird critters in the swamp, though. Who knows what could be out there?” Rob commented.

  “Well if it were just outside, I’d be okay. Problem is I think something may have been in the house last night,” Jack replied.

  “How so?” Rob asked.

  “Found muddy footprints downstairs. All the doors were still locked when I checked this morning,” Jack answered.

  Rob was silent for a moment.

  “Who’d you piss off, Jack?” Rob asked.

  “What were you doing last night, Rob?” Jack asked in reply.

  “Fine, fine. I’ll just get back to work. I was at home with Maggie last night, by the way. At least I have someone at home,” Rob replied, as he started to walk away from the coffee area.

  “See you, Rob,” Jack said.

  “Later, Jack,” Rob replied, continuing to leave the back room for the floor of the hardware store.

  As Jack followed Rob back to the main part of the hardware store, he thought about what Rob had said. Could there be someone after him? Who was mad enough at him that they would do something like this to him? Was it Suzy or someone she knew trying to scare him? Could the whole thing just be in his mind? Maybe it was the overly hot sleepless nights that were just getting to him. Then he remembered the footprints were not in his mind. He just did not know.

  The overcast sky darkened with the approaching night as Jack stood at the bedroom window. Would he be able to fall asleep? Knowing how much he needed sleep, he had to try. He slowly made his way to his bedside making at least two glances back to the window. With his nightclothes on, he got into the bed. Prying his eyes away from the window, he found himself staring at the ceiling once again. He knew it would be another night of little sleep.

  His thoughts went back to what he knew about the h
ouse. It had been abandoned for several years before he bought it and it needed a fair amount of work. He was only about halfway done fixing it up. The one question he did not think to ask the realtor when he bought the house was why the house was vacant for so long. Was it that the house was in great need of repair, or was something else causing the lack of interest in the house?

  A loud shriek, from outside, startled Jack from his semi-sleep state later that night. Once again, fog obscured the ground of the swamp outside his window. Was he hearing the sound of something slowly sloshing through the water? With the variety of other noises outside, he was unsure. The sloshing sound stopped. He was initially relieved, but then realized that something may have reached the shore. Concerned, he arose from bed and stepped to the window. The clouded night sky and fog near the ground did not allow him to see if anything was approaching the house. He could not see any movement or hear any additional sounds above the din for the next minute.

  A low creaking sound