Charleston, South Carolina 29403
Incident report 505A
It was on the fifth of august, 1988, at 0900 hours, that
I, Eudora Johnson, was walking along the beach by the
battery park. As I walked, I came upon an oblong heap of
sand, obviously some sort of heap heedlessly dug and cast
aside by some child in play along the beach. The heap bore
a strange oblong shape that first attracted me over to it; but
what held my attention for the longest duration of time was
the strange indigo aura that appeared as a slight mist, and
floated just over the top of the heap. Though the mist was
transparent, it behaved as if it attempted to conceal the
mound from any view of the passers by.
The scent....oh, the enticing sweet scent....was of velveteen
roses. Even thought the mist gave the appearance, both the
transparency and the smell enticed the desire for giving a
much closer look.
I could not resist, though I was short on time and needed
to travel back home. I then bent down and commenced to
dig, first with my bare hands, then with a plastic bowl that
I discovered approximately thirty yards from the mound.
I had dug down some one foot and several inches, when I
suddenly struck something hard that obviously was not
sand. At the same time, the grating sound made by the
dragging plastic betrayed the fact that it was not concrete or
stone, but subconsciously I knew it to be glass.
I dug with more passion and intensity, soon uncovering
a slight blanket of sand that concealed the glass from my
view, only to discover that the glass was indeed a pile of
bottles, some ancient, and some very modern, but all
stuffed with a corn cob for a cork, or some sort of home
made stopper. At this point, I was entranced, as though a
strange hex had been placed upon my very heart and soul. I
was compelled to continue my investigation.
I removed the bottles from the hole, dusting each one off
very carefully as I lay them by my side. I quickly glanced
around, and upon seeing no one about and myself being
very alone, I continued in my labor.
In total, there were thirty bottles of a liter or so in size. As
I inspected carefully, very carefully, I was shocked to
discover that all were perfectly dry and very empty...except
one. Inside this one there appeared to be a note of velum
parchment, but I knew not if it was modern or very ancient.
The lettering did not appear to be stained, or smudged, nor
faded in any sort of way. I quickly pulled the cork from the
opening, dumping the letter from the neck and the mouth,
and into the opened palm of my right hand.
I quickly glanced around once more, upon seeing no
one, my trembling right hand opened the note, and these
are the astonishing words that I read:
Note to the finder of this bottle
Day one, according to my slighted reckoning:
My name is Sam Shepard. I am from Wilmington North
Carolina. The date is May sixth, nineteen and eighty six. I
know not the time, but I estimate that it is about 1200 hours.
I am an outdoors man and adventurer by personal choice, a
teacher and freelance author by trade.
I put in via canoe just above where the Ashley river and
the Cooper river converge. I chose to follow the Ashley
branch as I began my journey, to an island named for the
respected family, Culpepper. This family was once the
proud owner of this specific island, but sold it in the due
course of time, to another family who chose to raise pigs on
the island instead of running a seaside supply store for any
sailors who happened by. I guess this fact is the reason why
the locals today simply call it Hog island.
According to local legend, the old plantation gentry
Culpepper family traded with anyone who possessed the
cash and was willing to trade, and this included both the
saints and the devils of the sea. The island was even
rumored to have been the sanctuary of drug runners and
pirates, both old time and modern, but no one living now
knows the real truth. For this reason, I set out to investigate.
In a couple of hours, my canoe came to beach on the
golden sanded shore. The wind puffed in a way that
pleased both the hair, the flesh, the mind and the soul. I
pulled the canoe high upon the beach and out of sight
behind some thick Yaupon bushes, just in case there was
any beach side company that I might have to contend with,
even though I knew that there more than likely would not
be.
I began my adventure by walking through a small
stand of vegetation, slightly hacking with my machete as I
walked. Soon I was three or four hundred yards back from
the beach. In the distance through the cover of thick
vegetation, I could clearly discern the rhythmic crash of the
waves. The sound was most beautiful to the ears. I felt like
just sitting down and listening to the wonderful natural
rhythm.
As I slightly hacked at the vegetation with my blade, I
soon came to notice that the thick cud-zoo vines concealed
an ancient wall constructed with what were obviously very
old home made bricks. I had to investigate. I carefully
continued to remove the vines with my blade, and then
exposed a brick wall some four feet in height and some nine
by nine in square feet.
I walked up fully expecting there to be at least two
graves inside, but only discovered that the inside center
had sunken in some what. I dug into my combat patrol
sack, removing my folding shovel, or e-tool, as the soldiers
call it. With this I then commenced to dig away at the
center. Soon I exposed a heavy door of hammered iron and
Catawba wood, which I knew to be one of the most rot
resistant local woods.
I went into my sack again, this time removing my
military scout hatchet. I then proceeded to chop away at the
heavy door, right at the edge where it appeared one of the
iron nipples caught into a hole in the iron on the jam, and
caused the door to lock. Soon I had hacked enough away
that I exposed the latch, and I could then simply take my
bare hand and the handle of the hatchet, and lift or pry the
latch, causing it to release.
When the door opened it exposed what appeared to be
an ancient corridor and a dark stair case that went down
right at my feet, and into a cold, damp, pitch black blanket
of never ending darkness. In the distance I perceived the
intimidating sound of heavy breathing, though I could not
make out any sort of presence.
I removed my carry sack from my back, going directly
to my hand held spot light; since I keep my combat duty
sack very well organized, so organized that I posses the
ability to lay hand upon my articles, even in a total absence
of all light. I punched the button with my thumb, and
instantly the light clicks on. I see the bottom of the staircase,
beyond I see the corridor until it turns, but still I perceive
the chilling sound of heavy breath....heavy angry breath,
though I see nothing to betray it's source.
I carefully walk down the staircase, going with caution
toward the bend in the wall to the right, approximately
some thirty paces from the stairs. I have always heard
rumors of treasure on this island, but for some strange
reason, all of the locals, even those who would otherwise
appear rough and brave, seemed intimidated to venture in
and inspect. That sole thought pushed me forward.
As I neared the bend, I distinctly perceived the sound of
movement...of a slow easing movement in consortium. A
pulsating mass of slow movement that gave me the feel of
predation...yes...., that of being pray to some evil pursuing
villain! I cautiously moved forward, snapping off my light
with my thumb, so as not to give the predator the
advantage of attack in the light, and to give my self the
advantage in concealment by the darkness .
The volume increased with every forward step that I
took . The heavy breathing....the heavy angry breathing,
continued, growing somewhat in intensity. I eased forward
in the darkness. Upon reaching the bend and the forward
stretch of the corridor, I heard the now intense, but slow,
seemingly mass movement just above my head and to my
right side, but about three yards out. The forthcoming
attack was surly eminent! My heart began to race with an
increasing tempo....would I live, or would I die?
I quickly snapped on my flashlight, and to my sudden
astonishment, I beheld a mass of water moccasins some few
feet from my head. I estimated that there were probably
thirty at least, that many were some six feet in length, or
even somewhat more. They were slowly, but with
increasing speed.... heading my way!
I made the turn at the corridor, but raced backward,
keeping my face on the serpents. I slowed enough so that
one would suddenly rush out, then I chopped off his head
with my machete in a single heavy swipe! Each one I
disposed of in this manner, simply one at a time. I
destroyed all of them, figuring that I would have to pass
back by them on my way out. I might as well get them now
before they get me later, I reasoned with myself.
I breathed a sigh of relief, wiping the heavy beaded
sweat from my brow. But the heavy rhythmic breathing...;
in the distance my ears could still perceive it, it's
threatening forward movement, but my light exposed
nothing but brick walls as far as the eyes could see into the
thick darkness.
I continued to move forward, with my light guiding the
way, and my pistol now ready by my side. I walked
onward for what seemed like hours, my cell phone clock
now stopping as though the battery had lost it's charge. It
was well charged and it should be going strong, but for
some strange reason beyond explanation, it ceased. I
wonder as to why, I thought as I moved along through the
corridor?
I have lost all track of time. It seems as though several
days have passed, but maybe I am still in the first day only.
I do not know if it is the light of day, or the pitch black of
midnight...maybe it is? Still there is a slight wind that I feel
that bears this heavy, angry, rhythmic breath, that I know
not of it's source, nor if it be friend or dangerous foe. The
breathing never stops, never weakens, obviously the being
from which it is born, never sleeps. My heart races with the
spice of fear, but my mind is persuaded to pursue the
thought of gold and outstanding glory. Maybe this be a
craft of some demon or spectral apparition to lure me into a
trap, or some monstrous man eating being simply hungry
for new flesh! The answer to these questions I know not,
nor do I have any indications as to the correct answer.
I am exhausted, my limbs are very weary, my heart
hammers out of an absence of sleep, and no longer from the
forces of fear. Though I still hear the heavy, blood curdling
breath, I no longer care....I am just way too tired to even
care.
Ahead I round the next bend to discover a deep cleft in
the brick wall that formed a corner some six feet deep in the
left wall. Here I cleaned a spot on the floor and pitched my
tent. I carefully unrolled my bag and climbed in. My eyes
closing all on their own in-spite of the heavy, soul piercing
breath that rode upon the wind and echoed in the distance.
Just a little sleep, I ask, just a little closure of the eyes for
strength.....
My eyes suddenly are awakened by a great collapsing
crash behind me, from the direction that I came in. I know
not how long that they have been now closed. The thunder
roared for what seemed like five minutes or more, but
above it all....above it all my ears still perceived that
heaving, angry sound of breath....but it appeared to be
closer, even much closer than before....
I snapped on my light with my right thumb, but saw
nothing, not even any dust from the crash...I only
heard....heard the crash and heard that evil pursuing breath
in the distance, but not as much distance as before...it's
source appeared to move closer, even surrounding me in
from all sides!
Is this evil source a single source, or multiple? Is it of the
secular and of the flesh, or is it of the spirit? Oh...how
dreadful the thought....how is the flesh to do battle with the
spirit? Is it real, or is it just an imagined figment of my
tormented mind? I cannot allow this situation to get the
best of me, I must move forward with my intention.
I closed my eyes again for some time, I know not how
long. I was now completely refreshed. I eased my right
hand into my combat supply sack, carefully taking out a
packet of instant grits and some multi vitamins. In my front
pocket I removed my small folding stove and an army
canteen filled with water. I dropped in my burning tablets
and soon commenced to boil the water in the stainless steel
cooking set. I stirred in the buttered grits, and it made a
wonderfully thick and filling porridge. I popped in the
vitamin tablet for insurance, and my meal was complete.
Since I still had some burn left in my heat tablet, I
carefully poured in some more water, brought it into a boil,
and mixed in a teaspoon full of instant coffee. Even in this
apparently hostile environment, I could still relax backward
and make the best of everything that was before me. Yes, I
do agree, just a little grits are always good for the soul!
I repack my tent and supply’s, and move on. I continue
on for what seems like hours beyond my ability to count. I
round nine bends ahead, and soon come into a
chamber...yes an elaborate chamber! In the center of this
chamber is a dusty box of tamarack that sits still in the
center of a cypress table. The box is not locked, so I
carefully open it, exposing a detailed map hand drawn on a
sheet of parchment. Obviously this was created some time
ago, but I do not know how long. I could clearly see that the
map was one of the corridor.
As I studied the map, my eyes beheld the glorious
site....the chest....the gold and emerald necklaces...the silver
chalice....there it was, marked right there on the map so
clearly..Behold all eyes....and it shall surly be all mine, all
mine for the taking!
Here was the chamber that I was standing in right there
on the map. I had carefully logged the turns and their
directions on a note page, so that I would have an idea of
the form and shape in the corridor, and of my direction
from whence I entered in. My drawing nearly matched the
map perfectly! Right there was the chamber that I was
presently standing in on the map....and two more down
was the treasure....! I am so excited that I can hardly write,
nor even speak if you, dear reader, were here with me!
I quickly make my way, I come to a left turn some ninety
paces down, and a chamber just as it clearly shows on the
parchment map, and then a right turn and a chamber....The
next right turn and the following chamber....would be the
glorious treasure....and it will be mine, yes....all mine for the
taking!
No more labor, no more lay offs and being fired with no
real facts to support that decision, no more dirty tax from
some pigs' meager choice in paid wages..! Yes, behold
dear ones....no more denial of opportunity when I am
qualified for the job...damn all of the conspicuous bastards!
It is mine, I tell you, and I am the one that will make the
decisions and hold the controls....!
My breath heaves and my heart races with
overwhelming excitement. I race around the next right turn
and into the next chamber, just as the map clearly shows.
My breath picks up even more, my heart quickens it's pace,
my mouth goes dry, my hands do tremble.....
I glance down at the map, and there it is...just ninety
paces more ahead ...is the room, oh...that hallowed glorious
chamber that all dear hearts dream of for the duration of
their pitiful mortal lives, but only a small few will ever
obtain and experience.....
But wait just a minute, what is this? What is this figure
standing painted beside the treasure chamber on the map? I
shine my light on the parchment, and I clearly see it...a
cherubim, lo an angel, a guardian angel I do suppose,
bearing a sword of fire and glowing sapphire light in her
left hand! In her right hand she bears a skull scepter of
smoky incense, like that of the belladonna rose...., and a set
of scales before her feet! Behold her appearance is
horrid...why did I not notice her figure before now?
I hear the breath...oh the terrible horrible dreadful
breathing rhythm that wreaks at.... even at my very soul,
my very being! Much closer it is now, much much closer,
even at my very back! I quickly snap on the light, but my
eyes discern nothing......, only emptiness, only endless
winding corridor and the damp ice cold brick of the walls!
Immediately behind me I hear a massive collapsing
thundering crash that lasts for what seems like three
minutes or more. I have only one choice now, and that is to
move forward...only forward. I move with quickened steps
toward the treasure chamber...but behind me in the
distance I hear the haunting breath, and now the gradual
heavy footsteps......
I reach the chamber, oh...finally that chamber of the
heart's desire! My foot crosses the thresh hold...my eyes
now behold that most glorious of sights! In the center of the
room sits a three by four foot chest of cedar, some three feet
in height. This chest is sitting open, overflowing with gold,
necklaces of amber, and jewels of every sort! Mine eyes
behold venerated charms of alabaster and emerald rings. I
see golden chalice and silver dippers! Not only is this chest
of gold and golden coin sitting filled to overflowing, the
riches are poured out upon the floor surrounding it. Yes.....,
'tis a most glorious sight to behold!
But....but I hear the evil breath......I hear the footsteps
approaching....now I hear a low thundering rumbling roar.
Behold, what shall I do? The chamber is the end of the
corridor! What shall I do? The only exit is back...toward the
beast or demon who approaches, who now roars with
anticipation of it's forthcoming gratification!
Hark now....I perceive liter sized bottles filled with
strong rum, oh what shall I now do, what action shall I now
take? I quickly seize up one of the bottles by the neck,
uncorking it with my left hand, and pouring out the
contents upon the floor with my right. I will have an
additional weapon, I suppose.
I hear the approaching roar....but I also hear the coaxing
rhythm of the sea near by, yes, very near the solid wall
behind me! I take my hatchet from my bag and began to
hammer upon the brick behind me with the flat of the back
side opposite of the blade. In some ten minutes or so, I
hammer a hole through, but alas, then it hits solid concrete
stone, and I cannot make my way to enlarge the hole. The
light of day shinning through the hole gives me joy and
hope on the inside, and I perceive the tinkle... yes, the
glorious trickle, of some creek or stream nearby....yes, right
here at my back side!
I hammer with great ferocity, my arms know not the
feel of weakness or that of being tired. But the stomps are
getting much closer, yes the roar is getting louder, the
breath.....oh that dreadful sound of the breath...is growing
with more intensity. Now..., oh how dreadful...I can hear
the slobbering smacking lips.....!
I can only fold up this note and heave it into the ancient
bottle. I shall continue this awful hammering with the slight
hope that the hole will widen, and I just might...., yes....just
might make it through! With cork in place I shall heave the
bottle through the head sized opening..... But that evil
stone....that stone base in the wall prevents me from
enlarging the hole.....!Lo, the beast now draws so much
nearer....ever so much closer....help, please, oh please help
me, if indeed any one can!
The Golden Girl
The winking twinkling of multicolored lights cast a brilliant
cascade of intense colored designs upon the plain white walls of a certain cabin's interior. Inside this humble dwelling were only two rooms; one large, in order that a few guests might be entertained, and one small, so that a single occupant might have a tidy place to retire after the daily labors.
On the western wall opposite the door, rested a mahogany
Grandfather's clock that dutifully announced the measurement of
time with an outstanding consistency. The clock's endless TICK
TOCK seemed to thunder as forcefully as any shotgun blast on
this Christmas fortnight, for in the dead silence a vivid
imagination harbored only the small elf and the small baby
reindeer, allowing them to play about the few furnishings of the
home.
In the corner, formed when the western wall met the northern,
stood a bright green fir tree. Tall and erect it stood, for it was chosen among thousands to show one's love for that most gentle
babe of Bethlehem. Throughout it's entire stand, not even one
time did a single needle wilt or droop. It was almost as if the
lifeblood that had sustained it rejoiced in it's final destination.
About the tree's foot was spread a snow white cloth of pure
cotton, sprinkled with the dust of ruby, emerald, and glittering
sapphire. On the outstretched limbs of the fir rested lengthy
strings of winking lights joyfully singing the good news message
in their own voice of winks in time to well known songs of the
season.
Against the southern wall was carefully placed a withered
couch that seemingly had seen more than it's share of visitors. The intent was to replace it, but the owner had long since abandoned
the possibility of accomplishing that task. On this couch, with it's tattered covering of cloth and it's well worn cloth buttons, sat a young lady who was the sole survivor of a terrible disaster that
had cruelly removed the only ones from her life who truly offered
genuine love in a world of hate. Her heart was pure, in the
traditional sense of the word, and her mind firmly fixed on God –
like desires. In this respect she was as she had always been,
therefore she was doomed to walk alone on the dusty roads of
life.
During her life in this warm cozy shelter of love offered by her
parents, her cheeks were rosy, her body full of vibrant energy and her golden locks appeared to be encased in a aura of moonlight,
as though a halo had been placed upon her head by the holy
angels in heaven above. In those days, when the world pushed her
aside, some cruel ones even violently attempting to shatter her
qualities of passionate beauty, she would race into this shelter of love spread before her by those who had given her life.
Unfortunately, those days had forever passed and now fate
itself had delivered a horrible blow in a single attempt to crush
her vitality. The once rosy cheeks were now pale as hazed
moonbeams; her bouncing hair of flaxen had wilted upon her
head, and her once glittering eyes of sapphire had dulled into a
pasty near blue film. The ability to sleep had long since fled from her grasp, and as she sat gazing blankly at the floor in front of