“You call this a beach?” smirked Jerry Lee, as he surveyed the muddy expanse of shell and sawgrass.
“Well, it ain’t exactly Panama City,” Ferlin admitted. Pretty soon, he turned his truck onto a small two-rut road. “Nothing out here but seagulls and wild hogs.” Jerry Lee pointed out.
“I’ll show you something you ain’t never seen before - a real haunted house!” Ferlin grinned.
“Oh, sure,” murmured Jerry Lee under his breath.
As they approached the dilapidated building, Jerry Lee got a funny feeling that made him shiver all over. He had heard about this place, but never paid it any mind because he did not believe in such things.
“My daddy knew the man that did it,” Ferlin began.
“What happened?” Jerry Lee pressed, still doubtful.
“This man had a beautiful wife and he was very jealous of her. But she had fallen in love with a mechanic down at that garage south of town,” Ferlin continued.
“So what did he do?” asked Jerry Lee.
“He followed her one evening, all the way down here. The mechanic was waiting for her in an old beach cabin. The one just ahead,” Ferlin said. “And when he found them, he pulled out a pistol and shot them dead. After that, no one came out here or used the cabin again.”
Now the aged shanty stood gloomily, falling apart, its boards just as gray as the cloudy sky above.
The steps were concrete blocks, which sunk gently into the surrounding bog as they climbed them. The porch swayed slightly, but proved to be more solid than it looked. Once inside, they found bare, weather-beaten rooms, with a few broken bottles scattered around. Shattered window panes and shredded screens hung from the windows. Jerry Lee thought this might have been a great fishing getaway at one time. “Hey! Check this out!” hollered Ferlin. Jerry Lee gingerly wandered into the back room where Ferlin was pointing to a bright pink toilet that was mounted on a platform, situated out over the water. “Gotta go?” he laughed.
Just then, a low, moaning sound, like a woman crying, startled both of them. They looked at each other with frightened eyes. “Let’s go,” squeaked Jerry Lee. But as they entered the next room, a dark stain in the middle of the floor stopped them.
“This must be where it happened.” Ferlin observed stoically.
The moaning/crying sound intensified and they rushed to the front door, a sudden chill surrounding them in their state of panic. “What was that sound?” asked Jerry Lee as they stood on the porch.
“Just the wind,” answered Ferlin, not quite sure of his own reply.
A broken barbeque grill lay on its side in the weedy yard, rusted and covered in barnacles. A chair that used to be yellow stood on one side of the porch, its wicker seat long gone. “Let’s get out of here, I don’t like this place at all,” Jerry Lee said adamantly.
“It’s spooky,” Ferlin agreed as he descended the front steps. And, as they made their way back to the truck, lighting up cigarettes and discussing the ill-fated lovers, Ferlin stubbed his toe on a piece of driftwood, “Ow! I’ll suwannee I just about broke my toe,” he stammered as he bent over to examine his toe. When he did, he happened to notice a small shiny object in the mud. He looked closer. It was a woman’s golden wedding band, flung carelessly into the marshes one long ago evening.
