LADY OF THE SWAMP

 

LADY OF THE SWAMP

Jimmy Doucette is dead in his bed at age 54.  The past thirty years had been a constant anguish of tortured conscience, and, for him, death could not come soon enough.  He had smoked and boozed himself to this slow death because he did not have the character or courage to end his life quickly with poison or a gun.

But Jimmy, my dear boy, death is not the finish, and for you the horror and torment has only begun.

        I’m here, watching your soul rise from your dead body, and now you stare at me, wide-eyed and horrified.  Do you still want to have sex with me, Jimmy?  No?  I thought not.  Well, you belong to me now.  Your free will died with your body, and you will do all that I command. 

Come over here to the window.  You’re shivering.  You feel colder than you ever felt in your life, don’t you?  Well don’t bother to put your robe on.  It can’t help.  You’ll never be warm again.  Never.

To be looking so frightened and contrite won’t help either.  It is only I who can forgive you, and I will never do that. You must pay for what you’ve done. 

Look out of the window, Jimmy.  No, not at the moon, you fool.  Look down to your driveway.   What is it you see?  Yes, it’s my Mustang.  Isn’t it a beautiful car?

Remember when we walked out of the USO club, you whistled and said what a great car it was, and how you’d love to own something like that.  Would you like to drive it? I offered.  You couldn’t get behind the wheel fast enough. 

Of course you remember the dance at the USO club.  You asked me to dance and  told me that I was the sweetest and the prettiest girl you’d ever met.  Oh, you were so smooth, Jimmy.  I knew that I wasn’t pretty but you made me want to believe that I was.

When the music stopped and the USO club was getting ready to shut down, you suggested that we could go someplace and maybe have a snack and some coffee.   I was so excited, because I liked you so much and I didn’t want the time with you to end.

But we didn’t go to any restaurant. 

Where did we go, Jimmy? 

Damn you, don’t shake your head and cry.

We’re going to take the Mustang back to where you left it that night.  To a place that is a thousand miles away, but we’ll be there in an instant.  Time and distance have no meaning for us anymore.

Remember these woods?  Remember this road?  Up ahead is the Pickett Swamp.  The swamp that was in your head every moment of your life since that awful night.

You stopped the car.  You squeezed my hand gently.  Then you kissed me.  A soft sweet kiss.  You told me how happy you were that we had met, and how much you cared for me, and how sad you were that you had to be going away, because you were in the Air Force and they were soon to send you overseas.

I was sad too. I let you kiss me again.  But then you kissed me more forcibly, and you pushed your tongue into my mouth.  I became afraid and shoved you away.  You grabbed at me and tore my blouse.  I screamed at you and demanded that you stop.  But you didn’t stop.  You wanted to rape me, and when I screamed and struggled you punched me in the face so hard that I lost consciousness and slid down to the floor.

And what did you do, Jimmy?   Instead of trying to help me, you panicked.  You thought I was dead.  So, instead of rushing me to a hospital, you started the car up and drove straight ahead to the edge of the swamp.

See the swamp.  Look at it, damn you. 

        You put the shift in neutral and jumped out of the car while it was still rolling, and you watched it drop into the swamp.  You were desperate that it should go completely under the muddy water, and when it did you ran out of the woods and never looked back.

You should have given a damn, Jimmy.  You could have saved my life.  You should have loved me.

But you didn’t.

So now I’m going to give you the Mustang that you wanted so much to own.

Yes, you’re behind the wheel now, as the coveted Mustang rolls back into the swamp where you will spend all of eternity.

 Goodbye, my dear sweet boy.