The Black Water Keeps Its Secrets: Justice

A heavy fog rested over the little town that night, it moved in from the swamp, came up the river, hanging like a blanket only a few feet above the ground. It was unsettling, almost as if it had an evil intent, hiding mischief and misdeeds. A perfect night for those who presumed never being found out. But justice always comes to those who disturb the spirits in the black water, or create them. 

The morning came, Earl and his family were getting ready for church, and Ronald’s father came to collect his son, thinking he had stayed over. Mrs. O’Steen, Earl’s mother, informed Mr. Brown that Ronald was not there and that he had not spent the night. She called to Earl asking him if he knew anything about Ronald’s whereabouts, and as she did, every feeling of ill imaginable, every sense of something gone wrong rushed throughout Earl’s body. He sprinted through the door and ran as fast as he could to the river where the boys had been the night before, his eyes filled with tears for fear of what might await him. 

As he got closer, he could see a figure in the distance, but he didn’t want to believe what he was seeing. There, hanging from a tree, was his best friend, gagged, stripped naked, bloodied, lash marks whipped all over his body, a fire had been kindled under his feet and was still smoldering. Earl grabbed his knife and cut him down, hoping and praying that he was by some miracle still alive, and he was! Sadly, it was not for long. Overcome with grief, Earl asked him who had done this, and with his dying breath Ronald said but one word, “Strangers.” By the time help arrived, one boy was dead and the other was in shock. 

Grief filled the little town as the news spread through the churches that Sunday morning. There had not been a murder in decades, although many people had gone missing in the swamp over the years. Every law enforcement agency that could be called upon was on the scene in a matter of hours, everyone was questioned in Darbyville, including the three new arrivals. 

Immediately, these men started to promote the narrative that this was some kind of racial crime, a lynching of an innocent black child, and that was true. They even reported seeing drunken white men in a pickup truck heading down to the river late that night, although the details they gave did not match anyone living in the area, and they were the only witnesses to this happening. They even cast suspicions on Earl, saying the boys had been arguing as they walked past the Darbyville Motor Inn. They said anything to deflect attention from themselves, but Earl knew who had murdered his friend, and his rage built up inside him, knowing that no court system would ever bring justice for his friend. But, he and the river would.

Ronald was buried on October 31st, and although an investigation into his death was conducted, there was not enough evidence to charge anyone. Passions grew heated as Ronald’s funeral engulfed the small town. The strangers inflamed resentment and distrust among those who had been neighbors all their lives, now they were fearful and angry. Ronald’s family rejected the notion and just sought a peaceful parting, laying their dear boy in the sand which he called home. The case went cold, but the strangers stoked the flames of animosity in Darbyville over the next year. 

Each time Earl would see the three strangers, they would smile, laugh at him, or make odd comments about Ronald’s death. On one occasion, they made the mistake of mentioning a detail of Ronald’s death that only the killers would have known. That detail was so horrific, that it had been kept from the public. That was the turning point, Earl could no longer wait, he was determined to get justice for his friend, but he would need some help. 

The only person who knew the river better than the boys was Lucas Red Fish, a member of the Seminole tribe, and he was about ten years older than Earl. He, his dog, and a flat bottom boat traveled the river frequently, hunting and fishing, living how his people had for centuries. Lucas had seen the strangers near the river on the night of the murder, and even a few times at the murder scene over the last year. He was convinced, like Earl, that the strangers had killed Ronald. Together, they plotted to draw the strangers out, scare them into a confession, and let the dark water take vengeance. 

One year to the hour of Ronald’s murder, Earl was startled by something outside his window. It was very foggy, just as it had been before, but what he saw was more than fog, it seemed supernatural. He heard a voice mournfully call to him, beckoning him to follow. He did and was led down to the river where the boys had camped, and waiting for him there was Lucas, who had also been called by the same specter. They knew it was Ronald, and they called for him to speak, he never did. The ghost motioned them to three different places, places all three knew well, dangerous places. The specter drifted away in the morning sun, just like the fog, and Earl and Lucas knew exactly what they would do. 

Halloween in small Southern towns is always an event of wonderful proportions, and all the actives were an easy disguise to lure the strangers away. One by one, the strangers were distracted away from the house they had rented in the middle of town, separated by their vices. Separated to their ruin. 

The first was distracted by several young ladies walking by the house, flirting with the men as they “trick-or-treated.” When the first was far enough away from the others, a rock hit him in the back. It came from the direction of the river and included a loud, mischievous laugh. The stranger could not resist following the sound of the laughter, and tracked it along the banks of the river and toward a large group of cypress trees, just off the banks, where the water gets dark and deep. As the stranger got closer, another rock hit him in the head, he lost his balance and fell into the black water near the trees, right into a nest of water moccasins. By the time he realized what had happened, he had been bitten many times; although he screamed out in horror, it was too late. The roar of the nightly festivities was too loud for anyone to notice. 

With one man missing, the second stranger went to look for his companion. The girls that had flirted with them were long gone, and none of the townspeople had seen the lost stranger. He walked toward the river, and as he got closer, he saw something lodged on the far bank of the black water. It wasn’t completely out of the water but stuck in the reeds across from the high sandy part of the bank where the boys would set up their trotlines, and near the same tree where Ronald was hung. These lines had sharp hooks attached for catching big catfish and alligator gar. The water was not very deep, so the stranger waded out to investigate what was on the other side of the river. As he did, he became tangled in multiple lines, cutting his flesh and causing him to splash and wail in the dark water. Nighttime is prime feeding for gators, and the smell and taste of fresh blood in the water caused a frenzy. The second stranger never had a chance, and nothing was ever seen of him again. 

After all the children had stopped coming around for candy, the last stranger went to find his comrades, he supposed they had met up with a few women and had taken them to the only bar on the black side of town. As he made his way to the bar, he saw two people dressed all in black, and paired with black hoods and white masks. They were laughing at him, and somehow, he knew they were smiling underneath. He called to them asking about his friends, but they just turned away and quickly walked toward the river, laughing even harder as they did. The last trap was sprung, and the last stranger was soon to meet his end, and Ronald would finally have justice; the justice he and his family deserved. 

The hooded people quickened their pace as the stranger pursued, they ran over the bridge where the river twisted just before it emptied into the swamp. They turned and told the stranger that they knew where his friends were, mocking him, and calling him a murderer. The stranger panicked and ran harder after them, and just as he was about to catch them, they split up. The stranger stopped, not knowing which one to chase. Suddenly, one of the hooded figured made it easy for the stranger, appearing only thirty yards ahead of him, but this one looked different. He had a fiery glow peering through his mask.

In a young man’s voice, the hooded figure started to tell details about Ronald’s murder and suggested that the other two strangers were going to the sheriff to confess, and probably were there already telling him how the last one had planned the whole thing. The stranger got infuriated, then scared, and rushed toward the hooded figure that was just out of the stranger’s reach and taking him deeper into the swamp. Two of the other hooded figures had doubled back, and now the stranger was being hunted. And, the fog returned to the swamp.

Now the prey, the final stranger panicked and hurried as fast as he could forward, trying to find his way in the ever-growing fog and desperately trying to escape the swamp. But his pursuer had led him to a place not of sand and water, but both. The stranger spent his last moments being sucked down into quicksand. As he did, and from across the river, he watched a young black man, sitting by a campfire, starring at him with fiery eyes, laughing, and smiling.

The morning came, a calm fell over the small town of Darbyville. Earl and Lucas never once spoke of the events of that night. And, though the Florida sun shined down in brilliant revealing bursts, the dark water just smiled back, holding its tongue, never to reveal its secrets.