The Legend of Foggy Waters

The oars dipped silently into the waters of the Bayou, swirling ripples gently trailed behind the boat as it glided within the channels. Light from the full moon shone so bright it broke through the canopy of trees that sheltered the black water below.

Two men sat side by side quietly rowing in unison, they had done this so many times words were unnecessary. So, it was with shock and surprise when Franklin heard his partner disturb the silence.

"You're Pull'n too hard."

"What's that?"

Foggy took a deep breath and repeated himself. "You're pull'n too hard, we're angl'n to the right."

Franklin eased up on the oar and stared at his partner. "I always pull the same way, never seemed to bother you before."

"Well, tonight, you're pull'n harder then usual, What's yer hurry?"

Looking away Franklin mumbled, "I jus' wanna to do this and git it over with, that's all."

Foggy chuckled and nodded to the package wrapped in a canvas cloth. "He ain't in no rush, time don't matter to him no more."

Franklin Sighed, lifting his oar out of the water he said. "This is good as place as any, nice and deep, crocs love this spot." With that he grabbed the anchor and tossed it over the side. The hollow splash echoed amongst the trees.

"Now, dang-it Franklin, if I told you once I told you a thousand times, don't toss the anchor overboard like that."

"Why, what difference does it make, there ain't anyone around to hear noth'n?"

"That's not the point. The point is you toss it in so hard it gets sucked in the mud, and it's a real turd to lift it out again." Shaking his head, he continued. "Slowly let the line out till it touches bottom. Have ya learned noth'n from me in the past few years"

With his head down he gave a little shudder, "Sorry Foggy."

"No worries, lets dispose of our cargo and get back to our homes."

Franklin, reached in front of him and grabbed an end, while Foggy picked up the other. Slowly they lifted the body and with a reverence that belie the situation, the two men gently lowered the canvas sack into the waters. They watched as it bobbed and floated for a moment while water slowly filled the bag, and the rocks inside dragged it leisurely downward. With a final gurgle the package slipped beneath the surface. In the distance you could already hear the sloshing sounds of reptilian bodies gliding into the dark and murky water, towards them.

"Do you ever wonder?" Franklin said softly.

"Wonder what?"

"Who they were, did they have a family? What'd they do to end up here, will anyone miss them?"

The older man looked up to his apprentice and partner. "I told ya from day one. Ours is not to reason, wonder who or why. Ours is but to dispose of that which is delivered to us."

“Dispose of those who die....” Added Franklin.

”What’s that ya say?”

”I'm just saying it rhythms better. Instead of say'n, which is delivered to us, you should say, ours is but to dispose of those who …”

”Shut up boy.”

"But...."

"No, buts. If you think on it too much it'll cause you to make a mistake. And mistakes will have you wind up in a canvas bag, not the one pull'n the oar."

Franklin nodded his head, but still had that look upon his face. A look that Foggy recognized. Curiosity mixed with confusion mixed with dread. He also noticed the lack of eye contact.

Softly he spoke, "Pick up the anchor Franklin, I want to show you something." With that they pulled further away from the now churning waters below. Splashes and slapping sounds of a frenzy feeding faded away as they glided on into the night. Maneuvering between the tall bald cypress trees which rose from the dark murky waters, they rowed silently once more, no words spoken. It was Franklin this time who broke the peace.

"Why'd we never git a motor, instead of us row'n all the time?"

"Motors too noisy."

"We coulda got one of those electric ones."

"Row'n is good for the body."

Pausing in mid row, Franklin looked around. "Where’re we going? I don't recognize this part of the swamp, I thought I knew every nook of this bayou, but I definitely ain't never been here."

"I know. Few people have, in fact I may be the only one alive to know of this area."

Franklin was again nodding. After all the bayou was forever changing, it was a living, breathing entity of its own. You could live on it your whole life and never explore it in its entirety. That is what he loved about it. At thirty-six years of age, he had been on the waters for at least thirty-three of them and considered himself one of the few men who could never get lost out here. Not many can say that, well many do and many end up lost. Their half-eaten corpses found later, most never found at all. Franklin realized no one knew these channels better then his mentor. He was a legend, for as long as he can remember his name was spoken with reverence. His grandfather and father would tell tales of him all the time. This is one of the reasons he accepted this job. One day he would be as famous as 'thee Foggy Waters of the Bayou'.

Unfortunately, he knew it would be sooner than he wanted. They gave him little choice.

Time passed quickly, the night fading with sunrise no more than a couple of hours away. They continued rowing, till they entered an area that was thick with branches reaching down into the water. It looked like they could go no further. Franklin raised his oar, before he could say anything, Foggy's deep voice pierced the quiet. "Keep row'n, hard."

With out hesitation he continued pulling. The branches pushed against them, reaching out to grab the boat and the men inside. Snagging their clothing, threatening to pull them over the side. They came to a near standstill. "Row...row." The voice boomed. And just when Franklin thought he could row no more, they broke through and entered an open area. Leaning over to catch his breath, Franklin was too exhausted to take in the surroundings. Suddenly through the corner of his eye he noticed an unusual sight. The whole area was lit up. Phosphorescent lichen clung to the trees, radiating a greenish hue. The air was alive with glowing insects flittering about, like sparks dancing in the night. Glancing towards his partner, he saw Foggy smiling. A look of contentment lightened his face with joy. Following Foggy's gaze Franklin looked up and saw an old cabin tucked away among the cypress trees, upon a raised plot of land. All he could manage to say was. "What the...?"

"This is my home."

"Your home?"

"Well not my home I live in now, it's the one I was raised in."

The boat glided to a stop against a platform dock, jutting out from the land to the meet the water. A gentle bump jarred Franklin as he stared onto this wonderous site. He loved stumbling across empty homes, it was like finding a treasure or better yet a piece of history.

"It looks so old, yet in decent shape, the style is like one from a hundred years ago."

"One hundred and eleven, I come out here and maintain it."

"So, is this where you planned on retiring?"

"Who said anything about retiring?"

Franklin quickly changed the subject. " This is really a sight, but why did they build it way out here in the middle of the swamp?"

"Well, it hadn't been a swamp here when my father built it. It was near the water but there was land behind it that stretched on for miles. But floods come and the lands change. Till it ends up being a home on an island in the depths of the marsh."

"Yeah, I get that sometimes the land.....wait, did you say your father built this?"

"Yes, when I was eleven."

"I knew you was old but, that is really old, no that ain't possible. How old you be?"

"One hundred and twenty-two."

"How? You look about my fathers age, an he's sixty-six."

"Long story Franklin, one I am willing to share with you. But first let’s talk about why you're in dis mood today."

Shaking his head, and avoiding eye contact the younger man responded. “I ain't in no mood, just wanting this night to be done."

"What did they ask you to do boy?"

Franklin tensed up and bowed his head; no words escaped his lips.

"I know. It's what they always ask the young partner to do when the other gits old." Foggy sighed. "I brought you here to tell you this was to be my last night drop. But, I am guessing you knew that already."

As the two men sat in silence, the boat gently rocking with the breeze blowing in through the trees.

Head still down Franklin spoke. "Why did you tell them you wanted to retire, if you knew what they would order me to do."

Pondering his answer, the old man looked around at his surroundings, as if it was his last. "They git worried that old men will talk and want ta confess to their sins. Trying to right the wrongs that were committed by them, while they still have time in this world. Trying to assure themselves a place in the great beyond. It scares them to think their secrets will git out there."

"I told them they was wrong, I done told them you would take your tales to the grave."

"True, I wouldn't had said a thing. But if I were to be conveniently disposed of tonight that sentiment would definitely be true. Dead men tell no tales." Foggy laughed.

Wringing his hands together, Franklin asked. "When did you suspect?"

Chuckling Foggy pointed to the canvas bag tucked under the bow of the boat. "When you see an extra bag, you suspect it will be used. Since I didn't place it there I figured it was meant for me."

"I hope you know I don't want to do this, you’re like a father to me, and you're my best friend all rolled into one."

"I am deeply honored Franklin, I truly am."

"They hinted bout my family an such if I failed to do..." Suddenly, Franklin sat up straight and beamed as an idea popped into his head. "I Know, you can stay here. I can bring you supplies, and no-one would know any better."

Shaking his head Foggy pointed out. “We both know only one of us can return, and they sure don't want it to be me. We also know they would find out ya let me go, then your life and others would be in danger."

"I learned so much from you Foggy, thank you."

"It has been my pleasure kid."

Franklin asked. "I am not sure how to proceed now. I ain't never done the.... dispatching, only the disposal."

Foggy raised his hand pointing to the cabin, "You know why I brought you here?" Digging into his coat pocket he pulled out a hunting knife. The metal glinted in he moon light.

No answer, Franklin eyed the blade twisting and turning in his partners hand.

Gently handing the knife to Franklin, Foggy continued. "You're like a Croc outta water, ya ain't thinking straight. I told you my age. How do you think I have lived this long?"

Recognition of that question began to dawn on Franklin, he didn't have an answer, and it really was a good question. "No, I guess I was so worried about what to do next, I forgot."

Climbing out of the boat, and onto the dock. Foggy turned to the young man. "First off I can't live here, as much as I would like too. Mother prefers to live alone."

"Mother?"

Foggy whispered, "Yes." As he nodded his head and stared behind his friend.

Franklin felt the chill creep down his back and his hairs rise on end. Slowly he turned around to see a beautiful woman sitting behind him, dressed in white and grey. As she tilted her head and began to smile at him he noticed the predawn light shining through her body. The water glistened and sparkled, her form shimmering in the morning mist. He tried to swallow, and process what was happening. Slowly reaching out to see if the vision was real. Without warning she lunged towards him, wrapping her shrouded form around his. He was unable to move.

Franklins body began to burn from within, he felt his insides being churned and twisted. A glow appeared to emanate from Foggy's body, reach out and wrap itself around him. Constricting his breath. His mind was being forced out. Franklin saw his soul seeping out of his body. It felt like he was being torn in half, with a final push his life force extinguished from his body.

Then all went dark.

Franklin woke feeling weak. He found himself laying face down on the damp wood, head hanging over the edge of the dock. Why couldn't he move. Staring into the dark waters he didn't see his image reflecting up at him. But he recognized the face gazing back. Turning his head, he saw himself sitting on a post. Quickly glancing back into the water, he watched as the reflection mouthed the words he spoke. "What's happening to me Foggy?" His voice sounded funny.

Hearing the creaking of the dock, he watched his Franklin body stand up and approached him, knife in hand. Clearing his throat while gesturing to him, he watched himself say. "My current body was no longer able to continue, it is as you see, aging. To be clear that was not my original form, you are my third transformation."

Franklin's body sighed deeply then continued.

"I was a young man who wanted to live forever, like most people wish for at one time or another. Of course, not all young men have a witch for a mother, like I do."

Franklin’s head was swimming. Trying to gather this information, it didn't make sense. Witch for a mother?

"Anyways, when my latest body begins to fail, I have to find another. And mother needs souls to consume for her to remain in this realm. The souls of the dead we drop off are faint and weak. They work to sustain her. But you my friend are a fresh one, your soul will ensure her survival for a very long time. I thank you for that, as I thank you for your body.”

Realization began to show in Franklins eyes.

"Ah, I see you understand."

Franklin shook his head. "No, I don't understand, why me, I thought we were friends."

"We are, Franklin, we are. That is why I chose you; we think the same. The transition was easy. Oh, I should let you know when I return, 'when you return'. You will insist on taking my name.”

“What about my wife and children?”

"Don‘t fret, I will be kind and treat them as my own.”

Foggy's mother hovered over him, hunger in her dark eyes, ready to devour his departing soul. She smiled.

As the blade sliced along his throat, Franklins last thought was, 'No one will even know I'm gone'.

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