Friday, October 18, 2013

A Place Called Dismal

Being the lover of odd and strange along the highways and byways of America, I couldn't resist checking out a place named Devil Swamp in Louisiana's Terrebonne Parish west of New Orleans. While driving down a dirt road running beside Devil Swamp, I came upon an old lady slowly walking with the help of a crooked stick she was using as a cane. I stopped beside her and found she was going to the wake of an old friend. I offered her a ride and she gratefully accepted.

As we began to talk, she told me she was a voodoo priestess who had lived deep in the swamp her whole life. I asked her if she knew any stories of the swamp. I figured with a name like Devil Swamp, there had to be some interesting ones and surely she would know them. She told me swamp stories should stay in the swamp, but because I had showed kindness to her, she would tell me of a place in the middle of Devil Swamp called Dismal, a place where even the locals don't go.  It's not on any map and now, so many years later, even most of the Devil Swamp dwellers don't know the story of Dismal; they just know it's a place of strange sounds and strange sightings, not a place to be when the sun goes down. But she knows the story of Dismal because her grandfather, who had been a noted voodoo priest, had told her. This is the story she told me.

In  yesterday years, long ago when voodoo magic was still very much a  recognized religion and practiced openly rather than in secret locations down dark alleyways and deep in the swamps like it is now, a young man by the name of Remy lived on the outer edge of Devil Swamp. Like all the other "swamp rats," Remy had no money, but he was a good hard-working boy from a good family. Remy had fallen in love with Bethany, the youngest daughter of nearby neighbors. Bethany had been flattered by the attention Remy paid her and soon, his affections were returned. They were deeply in love and planned to be married in the spring.

A few weeks before the wedding though, Bethany fell ill. No matter what herbs, chants and spells the local voodoo priest administered, Bethany became weaker by the day, wasting away right before her family and Remy's eyes. In desperation, her family emptied every penny they had saved in the cookie jar and sent for a doctor from New Orleans to save her. In spite of his every effort, Bethany continued her downward spiral and eventually the good doctor determined there was nothing left to do. He prescribed morphine to lessen the pain until the end came.

Hearing the news, Remy refused to leave her side, knowing she could go at any moment. He slept in a chair in her room, his arm extended to lay his fingers on her arm. He sat on the side of her bed holding her hand through the long days, hoping against hope she would get better. The morphine deadened the pain alright, but she was so drugged she didn't recognize Remy even as he stroked her forehead and caressed her hair. 

On the very day they had planned to wed, Bethany awoke, still ill and very weak, but her eyes clear and her mind sharp. Remy took her in his arms and held her close as they talked about the life they would have together someday. He continued to hold her even after she had closed her eyes and taken her last breath. She was buried in a small cemetery on a plot of high ground surrounded by swamp lilies in the middle of Devil Swamp. 

Remy was beside himself with sorrow and would no longer even eat or drink unless begged by his mother. He stayed in his room in the back of their little tin shack for several weeks, day after day, grieving away. Then one bright, cloudless morning, Remy came out of his room and sat down at the kitchen table just as happy as he had ever been. At first his parents were elated, grateful to have their son back, but it slowly became apparent he no longer had a good grasp on reality. He believed his dear Bethany was still alive, having only gone away for a short time to visit relatives. He was going to find her, he said, and then she would come home with him and they would be married. His parents tried to talk to him, to get him to understand Bethany had gotten ill and was no longer alive, but Remy wouldn't have any of that kind of talk. In his mind, Bethany was simply away for a short time and he was going to find her and bring her home. 

For two weeks, Remy went out every day. From before sunrise to after sunset he walked the lonely roads, the walking trails, the game trails, calling out her name, over and over. He became convinced she was living somewhere in the swamp in one of the many abandoned fishing shacks. "I think she is sick, Mamma, very sick and very tired. She thinks she's going to die and she's so afraid, Mamma, and I've got to find her and bring her back. Death is coming for her and I have to find her so I can hide her from Death." With that said, Remy, his eyes filled with the insanity which gripped him, turned away from his desperate parents and ran straight into Devil Swamp.

For several weeks, his family and people in the community hunted the swamp for him, but other than a few fleeting glimpses through the trees and tall grass, he wasn't seen again. He was heard, however, plaintively calling out the name of his beloved Bethany, over and over and over. One could not imagine a more sorrowful, dismal sound.

Even after everyone else had given up, Remy's father would not stop trying to find him. He simply couldn't quit, not when people still reported hearing his son calling out. One evening at dusk, he was in his flat-bottomed skiff in the middle of Devil Swamp very near the little cemetery where Bethany lay in eternal sleep. Just before turning for home at the end of another long, frustrating day, he noticed  hundreds of firefly's blinking their lights while flying just over the dark waters. And then, across the wide pond, he saw his son stumble out of the cypress tree's in waist-deep water. "Bethany!" he exclaimed, "My love, I see your life light!" Perhaps in his maddened mind, he saw Bethany's spirit flickering like a hundred candles. Perhaps he imagined she was extending her hand, beckoning him to her. "Yes, Bethany, I'm coming my beloved!" he shouted.

His father cried out to him, but Remy was beyond hearing anyone or anything of this earth and as his father frantically paddled toward him, Remy rapidly waded toward the firefly's over the deep waters. The pond was wide and his father simply couldn't get to him before the brown waters covered Remy's head.

With help from other men in the little village along the edge of Devil Swamp, Remy's father found the lifeless body of his insane child the next day. They buried him next to Bethany.

Occasionally, people around Devil Swamp still claim to hear strange sounds coming from the middle part of the swamp; a sad, sorrowful sound like someone calling out a name they can't quiet make out. And a few very brave souls who remain in the middle of the swamp after the sun sets claim they sometimes see the phantoms of a young man and woman, reunited in death, floating across the dark waters surrounding the small cemetery now known as Dismal.

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