This was a journal entry made by Walter Rockwell (a prison convict) in the 19th century. This was later discovered in 1903 where it was taken and recreated digitally.
My friend Micah and I had been running from the law for a few months. With an unsuccessful armed robbery attempt up in Washington, we had to find a place to hide. We travelled for a while until we made it to Florida. The swamps in Florida were dense, with many places to hide in and passages to escape from. Micah and I made a mediocre hideout which had a myriad of holes within the flaky planks of wood that we used. Not only that but when the days were generous with rain, we would find ourselves being covered in regurgitated dirt water due to the wholes of the rusted ceiling.
A few weeks into our stay, I would find odd things occurring within the swamp. Clothes would emerge from the water, the quality of which would vary but typically they were slacks or farmers clothes. However, it got even worse. One day in July, I went down to a creek near the shack. It was the afternoon and I had spent the whole day fishing. Most of the water in the swamp had a thick tone of brown, making it sickening even to look at. In the creek, however, the water was beautiful. It dazzled in the suns light and was clean and fresh. As I cupped my hands in the water to clean my face, I saw something move. My head snapped upwards to see what had moved, yet when I looked there was nothing. I brought it down to me being paranoid and left it at that.
About two months in and Micah was incessantly going on about ‘large maggots’ that were crawling around the swamp. He told me one had attempted to attack him while he was collecting water and that I should ‘stay vigilant’ around the area. Later that day, I went into the swamp to collect some wood and I saw them. I could hear grotesque sounds of flesh being ripped apart as the maggots burrowed their way into the crocodile’s corpse. Feeling myself about to wretch I turned away before that could happen. I dragged myself back to the shack, unsettled by what I had seen. When I turned up Micah swung the door open saying “Did ya seem em? Did ya seem em?” I just slowly nodded my head and returned inside.
Over the coming months, animals started to disappear. We didn’t see any of the large maggots that clung within the trees, nor did we see the jaded back of a crocodile peering up at us within the murky water below. Apart from me and Micah, we seemed to be the only two living things within the swamp. I got a bad feeling about it. There was this paranoia I had, like there was something within the swamps that I just couldn’t see. Then it happened again. In corner of my eye, a humanoid figure was slowly staggering across the trees in the distance. Like last time, I looked in the direction of where this thing was, and it just disappeared.
From the events that had occurred over the past few months I began prodding Micah to help me barricade the shack. He was reluctant at first but eventually came around. We boarded up the thin hole-ridden planks and reinforced the door, for once I felt safe. However, tomorrow was a different story.
Today I woke up quite lethargic and a little later than usual. Micah wasn’t sleeping in his bed and the fishing equipment had been taken. He would usually fish in the morning, and I just presumed that he was having a bit of a bad day catching. I got on my gear, as usual, and headed out of the house. I could just remember how silent it was when I opened the door. It was different today. There was no quarrel of croaking frogs nor was there any chirping of birds; just silence.
I went down to the usual fishing spot, which was a wide pond that was hidden by large Cypress trees. The fishing equipment lay next to the bank near the pond however Micah was not there. As I passed through a few of the trees I found Micah. He was stood in the centre of the pond, motionless. I got even closer and could see that Micah was twitching from time to time and his skin had holes on it and was almost purple in tone. I shouted out to him “Hey Micah, you alright?” He slowly turned to me, his arms flailing as he did. His face was completely gone, replaced by the large maggots which writhed around in his head. I could see puss oozing between the crevices of the maggots and slowly drooping down Micah’s maggot-ridden face. His head tilted up and the maggots formed an empty circle in the middle of his face. Out of this hole came pouring out a thick, viscous, yellow liquid which mixed itself into the pond below. Out from the pond emerged even more maggots, slowly making their way towards me.
For a moment I stood both confused and horrified by the abhorrent creature I could see before me. Any semblance of my old friend gone, removed by these pulp-like creatures. I pulled myself together and turned around to which I saw even more people. Each person’s face had been filled with maggots. I took out my pistol and fired it at one of these people and attempted to escape through the cypresses. They were everywhere I looked slowly surrounding me. I made it to the shack. I barricaded the door and sat against the wall, thinking of what I was going to do. I could hear them outside, a resounding wave of small, raspy moans filled my ear. Heavy thuds and scratching could be heard outside the shack to what I could only imagine was their attempt to get in.
In that very moment I contemplated shooting myself so that I could avoid whatever torment awaited me outside. However, I saw my lantern hanging of the roof of the shack. I removed it from the ceiling and filled to the brim with oil. Their moans and scratches grew louder; this was my only chance. I ripped of a plank from the wall and threw it out of the opening. The flames soared into the sky, and I could see those maggot-walkers thrashing themselves against the ground in pain. With the small chance I had, I kicked the door open and began rushing past the hordes of monsters that were now engulfed in flames.
I didn’t stop running, not even once. Only when I got to the bridge that led to the city did I realise how exhausted I was. For what felt like hours I sat against a fence in the outer city just collecting myself. I was filled with relief yet sorrow for losing my friend.
I shortly left after that and went to Texas, which is where I live now, far away from that vicious swamp and I know that no amount of curiosity in the world could convince me to go there again.