Swamp

Bailey

Something sinister is watching me from across the swamp.

I stand in the window of Robert’s bedroom, squinting out into the oppressive darkness, but there’s nothing much for me to see. The emergent structure of the nearly finished house juts out over the tops of the cypress trees like the horns of some monstrous beast. Beyond, the swamp lies swathed in humid shadow, as still and silent as the graves that sink ever deeper into the putrid muck.

Whatever waits for me in the marsh, it doesn’t show itself. Not tonight, at least.

I shiver and draw the blinds, blotting out the night beyond the window.

Beside me, Robert doesn’t stir. He’s been asleep for about half an hour now after receiving another dose of pain medication. Hopefully, he’ll slumber through the night. I’ve already cleaned and bandaged his wound, so there’s not much for me to do now other than check in on him periodically. I decide to head downstairs to the kitchen and make a cup of coffee to help keep me awake throughou