If I am alive today, I can only credit that to two things: a lot of luck, and what I believe to be the assistance of some entity. Either way, let my story serve as a warning to those who wish to explore, venture into inhospitable places. The natural and nature are not the same thing, and the latter is much broader and more dangerous than the former…
June 4, 2023
My heart was filled with anticipation as I boarded the well-polished wooden catamaran illuminated by the morning sun. Around me, the other tourists shared the same feeling of excitement, eager to explore the natural beauty of the region and immerse themselves in the local culture. Some families with their children held the kids back from getting too close to the edge, while what I assumed to be a group of elderly travelers took photos in the sun and shared stories from younger days. I couldn’t help but smile.
For a long time, I wanted to travel the world. A boy from inland California (more specifically, from San Bernardino County) now had more passport stamps than fingers on his hands. Attracted by the tropical climate and inviting tourism, I came to explore the bed of the São Francisco River, near the village of Delmiro Golveia.
The local cuisine was appetizing, and shortly after walking through the streets, venturing a little out of town, I saw a sailboat in a small makeshift port, accompanied by its captain: a man in a blue flannel shirt, boots, and loose pants. He was sturdy although he appeared to be around 50 years old. His hair had ends that stood up, curving towards the hair, and he sported a beard as if he hadn’t seen a razor for a few days. He was shouting something I didn’t understand, and when I approached him speaking, he quickly switched to his English, which, although functional, carried a strong accent.
Captain João, a taciturn man with penetrating eyes, while talking a bit about his work, guiding tourists along the river, he told of various adventures and some local legends. I’ve always been fascinated by folklore, so being able to hear firsthand about different creatures like the “Saci” (a one-legged black youngster who plays pranks on others) or the pink river dolphin (a river dolphin that turns into a man to court women) turned out to be one of the highlights of the conversation, so much so that I joined the other crew members who were gathering as we talked.
The catamaran glided smoothly through the water, cutting the river with grace and elegance. The cool breeze caressed my face as I watched the banks slowly recede, giving way to a lush and exotic landscape. The leafy trees leaned over the water, their canopies swaying gently to the rhythm of the wind. The sun shone brightly in the blue sky, painting the scene with golden hues and vibrant greens. The gentle sound of water lapping against the catamaran’s hull was accompanied by the singing of birds and the distant buzz of insects. The fresh aroma of tropical vegetation filled my senses, mingling with the sweet smell of the river.
Tourists gathered on the deck, admiring the natural beauty around them. Children exclaimed at every sight, “Look, Mom, a monkey!” or “Look, a toucan!”, while the older ones exchanged looks of admiration at the majesty of nature.At every bend in the river, a new breathtaking view filled our eyes with something I can’t even describe with words. It was as if we were sailing in an enchanted world, where time seemed to slow down and the beauty of nature revealed itself in all its glory.
The sun nestled on the horizon, right in front of our boat, painting the waters with shades of yellow and orange. João had previously commented on how taking this tour in the afternoon was better, as it provided a beautiful sunset, and at that moment I had to agree. I still remember the landscape to this day, and perhaps that was the last moment of calm before the storm…As we simply glided through the waters, an unusual silence fell upon us, no animals made their usual noises, no birds sang. Even the fish, abundant throughout the journey, seemed to have retreated into their burrows (or wherever fish sleep).
“There must be some predator nearby, maybe a jaguar, a snake, or an alligator…” João commented, making some children run into their parents’ arms. “Hey, don’t worry, just stay on the boat and they won’t harm us.”
In the middle of this sentence, a shiver ran down my spine as my eyes fixed on something strange floating downstream. Initially, I thought it was just a log or branches, but as we approached, an uncomfortable sensation came over me, and I drew the captain’s attention by pointing with my finger.There was a dead animal floating in the water. I could swear it was a horse, but something was wrong.”Oh my God… poor thing,” I heard someone comment as they saw the animal.
“Unfortunately, it’s not uncommon to happen,” João lamented, slowing down the speed. “Some horses get lost in the shallow bed of the river and end up here by accident, too weak to return. Usually, we notify the owner. Let’s get a little closer to see the mark engraved on it, to know whose it is. Any objections from you?” No one objected, but I heard some elderly murmuring in the background.
As we approached, the “something wrong” feeling began to grow within me. That horse, I don’t know, it was large… and small, it was disproportionate, maybe it had swollen due to the water? eaten in parts by something. Before I could fully process what I was seeing, the animal sank rapidly, as if pulled by something strong at the bottom, almost like an anchor.
While my heart beat uncontrollably with the sudden and unpredictable movement, the boat began to shake forcefully, making a perpendicular and sharply angled movement, almost tipping the catamaran completely sideways. I instinctively grabbed one of the boat’s side rails, while I saw João making the sign of the cross, murmuring words that I didn’t understand at the time, something like “Boclo dagua.” I asked him what had happened.
“It must have been the reins, caught on a rock, and the tension of the current caused this effect,” he said clearly uncomfortable. “I think it was a unique experience to finish our ride, right?” He improved his tone, more excited, speaking to the audience.
However, the moment those words left his lips, they were accompanied by a nearby thunderclap. People stirred, and a few minutes later, a light drizzle began to fall, gradually intensifying into a torrential rain, whose drops beat strongly on the boat’s awning, and when they fell into the water, created waves with their impact…
The crew’s unease increased as the captain tried in vain to calm us down. While some lightning struck at a certain distance, illuminating the skies, the current slowly began to take control of us, pushing the boat to one side and displacing us towards some rocky formations. João tried to take control with the rudder, but his efforts were wasted; we were gaining speed and getting too close to the rocks. There was no way out; I could only brace myself for the impact moments before feeling the shock reverberate through the ship, along with the dry and hard sound of the stone. By some miracle, the hull hadn’t split… yet.
The abrupt impact directed us to the other side with equal intensity, repeating the same process, this time mirrored. We zigzagged like this three times until finally, the bow broke apart. The screams of the crowd grew louder as they struggled to grab the buoys and life jackets on the sides of the boat. Harsh shoves and trampled people became the modus operandi as João fought to regain control of his boat.As if by a miracle, we saw through the mist a small copper-colored mound approaching.”Thank God!” the captain shouted, steering us there. The river water was already touching our shins when we docked on the island. We disembarked, exhausted and sore from the confusion and stress.
“Well, this is a river island,” João said, still in his tour guide spirit. “Strange that it shouldn’t be here, not at this time of year. Indeed, the weather is not doing well at all.” He sat on a rock.
“Are we… just going to stay here?” I asked.
“With this rain, there’s nothing else to do,” he said and pulled a radio communicator from his pocket, raising the antenna as static sounded. He turned the knobs for a moment, waited, repeated the movements. Just static. “And I think the storm is causing interference too. We’ll just stay here, wait it out, and go in search of help, okay?” He stood up, now more assertive. “Women, elderly, and children, seek shelter under the trees, men, help me here,” he called us.
With some stumps, hollow logs, and large palm leaves, we managed, albeit with difficulty, to build a small shelter… Although it was uncomfortable with the wet clothes against our skin, there was still the comfort of the small fire resting in the center of the makeshift hut.However, the relief was only momentary. The feeling of unease only grew. As our ears got used to the roar of the rain, strange noises echoed in the jungle, like sinister whispers.
Was it something animal? I don’t know, it didn’t seem like it, although on this trip, I heard sounds that didn’t seem like animals too, like the song of the Urutau, or the cry of a Maned Wolf…Captain João warned us not to venture too far from the shore, warning about some predators that might be lurking. His eyes seemed to search for movement in the jungle at all times, restless and agitated. As the rain continued to fall relentlessly upon us, the shelter began to give way under the weight of the storm. The wind howled furiously, tearing pieces of palm leaves and knocking down the stumps that supported our fragile protection.
Grim cries of alarm echoed among us as we struggled to keep our only refuge standing, but it was a lost battle. With a deafening crash, the shelter collapsed around us, leaving us exposed to the storm that now soaked us once again.
Drenched to the bone, we huddled under the rain, seeking shelter in the nearby trees as the storm roared even louder. The sound of thunder rumbled in the air, accompanied by the deafening noise of the water pooling around us. My feet ached as puddles formed inside my shoes. I would likely catch a cold soon…
About an hour, perhaps a little more, passed until the rain gradually subsided, leaving behind a sky tinted with soft shades of orange and pink, now with the sun practically invisible to us. The first stars began to shine, and the atmosphere among us remained tense and anxious. With the last daylight fading, hope of rescue wilted like our clothes: limp, shrunken, and heavy, replaced by growing concern for our lives.
The radio remained silent, unable to penetrate the dense vegetation of the island and reach a signal. With frustration weighing heavily upon us, the captain made the decision to explore the island in search of higher ground to try to reestablish communication, perhaps, as he said, “Find a natural bridge to the mainland.” While he and one of the crew members, a local resident named Severino, who had volunteered, set off into the dense forest, the rest of us anxiously waited on the beach, gathered in small groups, exchanging worried murmurs.
Some busied themselves trying to salvage luggage from the boat, in vain, while others attempted to rebuild shelters weakly. Children cried as mothers tried to calm them. Time dragged slowly as we waited for the duo’s return. Hours passed, and anxiety grew with each moment they did not return; we were worried and almost forming a group to check on them when, amidst the shadows lengthening across the beach, we spotted a solitary figure emerging from the dense forest. It was Captain João, but something was wrong.
His steps were hesitant, and his gaze seemed to oscillate between each of us with every stride; he appeared increasingly worried. We ran to meet him, doubts swirling in our minds.
“Captain, where’s Severino?” someone asked as he approached.
João looked around, as if about to say the same thing.
“He… he’s not here?” he asked, confused. “We were walking for a while when a loud noise erupted. I ran to see what it was, but found nothing. When I turned back, he was no longer behind me.” His voice was filled with confusion and anguish. “I thought he might have gotten scared and run back here…”
A shiver ran down the spine of all of us as we absorbed his words. With night rapidly approaching, the danger also increased. Hunger, cold, and a potential predator were fortifying, and we had to think of something quickly…
A heated discussion ensued about what to do next. Some suggested staying on the beach and waiting for rescue, while others proposed a search to find Severino. Arguments for and against each option flew through the air, each expressing their concerns and viewpoints, the tone escalating with each rebuttal.
“We should stick together, it’s safer!” a mother argued, still holding her little daughter in her arms.
“But what if Severino is in danger?” a man, a friend of the missing man, countered.
“It’s too risky to go out at night, why don’t we wait for the sun to rise?” a third person murmured, trying to mediate.
The discussion intensified, Captain João remained silent, oblivious to what was happening. His eyes fixed on the dark horizon, as if searching for an answer within himself.
It was then that I made a decision. I stood up:
“Captain, if you go, I’ll go too!” My voice sounded firmer than I expected.
Some looked at me intrigued by the recent attitude, but before anyone else could intervene, an older gentleman rose beside me.
“I will go too.” His voice was calm and resolute. He was a local, certainly, but he had perfect English. “Two are better than one, and it’s best not to leave the captain and you to face this alone.”
With doubled caution, we set off towards the dense vegetation, our cautious steps echoing on the damp sand of the beach, gradually replaced by denser sediments. The night enveloped the island like a dark cloak, and the air was heavy with palpable humidity, leaving a taste of saltiness in the mouth. Our sensitive ears marked each sound as a potential threat.
Only the distant sound of the persistent rain somewhere far away and the whisper of leaves under our feet broke the silence of the night. We soon approached the place where the captain had heard the noise earlier. To our surprise, there was nothing but the oppressive silence of the night forest. I wasn’t much of a believer in “energies” and “auras,” but that place definitely had a bad energy.
We decided not to stay there for long, after a brief inspection, we continued our march, now with more haste. Not far from there, we reached a clearing where the vegetation opened up to reveal a serene lake, bathed in the pearly light of the full moon. The waters shimmered with a crystal-blue hue, emanating this time an intoxicating, calm, almost hypnotic aura.
We stood in silence for a moment, marveling at the tranquil beauty of the scene before us, until a wet bubbling sound bubbled, snapping us out of our trance. It was something in the water, emerging, it was… Severino! He was floating, seemingly unconscious, his clothes seemed to create air pockets that kept him safe.
“Hey!” the captain shouted. “Severino! We’ve come to get you! Are you okay?”
The man remained inert.
“I’m coming over there!”
The captain took a step, but soon the hand of our older companion stood in front of him. He signaled for us to wait. In total silence, he picked up a stone, approached a few steps from the lake, and threw it near the floating body. My heart pounded harder even before the stone hit the water. I knew what was going to happen; I had seen it before; it was the same sense of threat…
Just like the horse’s body, Severino disappeared into the depths of the lake, being pulled violently and forcefully downward. The captain and I were startled.
“What the devil is this?” I asked.
The captain seemed pale, unable to respond, but with a monotone, serious, grave voice, our companion told us:
“It’s the Caboclo D’água…”
João made the sign of the cross again.
The water bubbled again, and the creature emerged from it, moving slowly towards the shore of the lake. We were astonished by the sight: Its humanoid body was wrapped in scaly copper-toned skin, shimmering in the moonlight. Its form was distorted, almost like a grotesque amalgam of man and fish, with elongated, muscular limbs ending in sharp claws that glistened with the cold glow of the lake.
I could barely believe what my eyes saw, and my mind refused to accept that it could be real. It was as if my mind was being flooded by a dense fog, I was incapacitated, subdued… it was doing that…
As the creature slowly approached the shore, I could see its bright eyes fixed on us, emanating intense malice. Its face was a twisted mask of hunger and pleasure, its thin lips curling into something that for a fish might be the equivalent of a smile, exposing rows of sharp teeth like those of a piranha.
A scream of terror tore through the night as the creature lunged at us, surprisingly fast for its size, its claws outstretched. Instinctively, I recoiled, but I watched in horror as one of ours was seized by the creature; it was the captain. The monster had grabbed him, by his leg. It was possible to see the claws piercing the flesh, causing red leaks over the skin. The man screamed and tried in vain to hold onto some root or stone, but the creature was cunning; there was nothing fixed for him to cling to.
The sound of the churning water was accompanied by the agonizing and final screams of João as he desperately fought against the creature dragging him down. I felt a wave of nausea and despair wash over me when I realized that there was nothing we could do to help him, only watch his demise. It was like watching a movie; I didn’t even have the perception of the danger I was also facing, until the elderly man touched my arm.
“We need to go, I’m sorry about João, but you can’t mess with these things,” His wise gaze seemed to reflect that he had been in such a situation on previous days.
Before I could even process what to respond, the creature rose from the lake again. Its claws now dripping diluted blood into the water. It turned back towards us, roaring like a wild beast. It was coming for us when something stopped it. A hand from beneath the surface, a broad hand attached to a robust arm. With a freshly made cut covering his left eye, emerging like an animal, was the captain. He grabbed the monster by the neck and delivered a few blows. It was clear that the creature had been taken by surprise and was being hurt.
“Run, quickly,” he said. “Don’t worry about me, get the rest of the passengers to safety.” The creature, now recovered from the surprise attack, lifted him by the neck.
I was pulled by the elder as we ran. The last thing I saw was the silhouette of the two in the lake, as João struggled and struck blows, the creature kept pressure on his neck, and with a terrible “pop,” the captain’s body went limp in its arms…
We continued running through the dense vegetation, the sounds of the night echoing around us, our anxiety and fear growing. The old man led the way with a grim determination on his wrinkled face. The forest closed in around us, the twisted, tangled branches seemed to try to hinder our progress; I really didn’t recognize the path we had come from…
The run was exhausting, and we emerged in an open clearing, where the stars cast small fireflies over the damp earth. He stopped abruptly, his eyes scanning the environment cautiously. That’s when he spotted something at the edge of the clearing - a small rowboat, resting peacefully on the sand.
“This is our chance to escape,” he said, his hoarse voice filled with urgency. “Let’s go quickly, before it’s too late.”
“But… what about the others?”
“Our best chance is to seek help; the creature must not know about them, or it would have attacked…”
We ran towards the boat, our hearts racing with renewed hope for survival. As we prepared to depart, our scarce joys were dissipated when a familiar noise echoed from the nearby woods.
We looked on in shock as the monster emerged from the shadows, its twisted and sinister form advancing towards us. It seemed larger now. Blood was dripping not only from its hands but from its mouth as well. It began to run, dropping to all fours as it closed in. The old man, who was still outside the boat, pushed me forcefully into the sea as he remained alone with the creature. The boat carried me out to sea as I watched the monster closing in on its prey. I couldn’t bear to watch, but his screams of pain echoed through the night as I rowed frantically, backwards, pulling away from the shore as fast as I could.
The horrifying sound of flesh being torn and bones breaking haunted my ears. Have you ever heard an elder scream? Cry like a child separated from its mother? It causes pain. It causes fear… Exhausted and terrified, I rowed until my muscles failed, until I finally fell into a deep and troubled sleep.
When I awoke, I was lying on the sand, the rays of the sun warming my face. In front of me, a team of environmental police officers was watching me with expressions of surprise and confusion. They began asking questions, but my mind was elsewhere, reliving the horrors of the previous night in a loop.
Hours later, I was at their base, showered, well-fed. With a lump in my throat, I recounted to the officers what had happened on that fateful night: the catamaran shipwreck, the disappearance of the crew, the encounters with the Caboclo D’água, and everything else. However, my story seemed so surreal and absurd that not even I could believe it was true as it came out of my mouth.
The officers searched the area for any sign of the river island, the catamaran, or the other passengers, but all they found were minimal traces that barely supported my narrative. They did indeed have the report of the boat leaving the port, our trajectory until the rain began, but after that, it was as if it had ceased to exist…
Despite the efforts of the authorities, no convincing explanation was found for the events that occurred that night. I was simply released from there, and I returned home as quickly as I could.
Over time, the traumas of that night corroded my sanity. I could no longer sleep without being haunted by vivid nightmares of the river creature emerging from the dark waters to drag me down. Every sound of running water or shadow on the water’s surface made me shudder in terror; I no longer went to pools, avoided lakes, and didn’t even go to the beach. I didn’t use the bathtub anymore and even avoided turning on the tap, preferring to buy bottled water to avoid hearing that sound flowing.
My psychiatrist gave me a diagnosis of post-traumatic stress disorder, saying that I imagined things while delirious on the boat. I almost believed it, if it weren’t for an email I received. No sender, no subject, just my name as the recipient, and an attachment, a scan of a newspaper page, a newspaper from Delmiro Golveia, saying that the boat was found, now that the right time of year revealed that island, and that along with it, the bodies of over 30 passengers were found. Not drowned, not dead from hunger, but with strange marks on their bodies, attacked by some unidentified animal.