The Legend of Beacon Swamp

By Jacob Peyton

No one believed in the legend of Beacon Swamp until the night Mrs. Hernshaw rose from her watery grave...

Don't go into the swamp
Don't call her name

Those are the rules

Sometimes in Beacon Hills kids go missing, most of them are never found. The only thing they all have in common is that in the days leading up to their disappearances they went into Beacon swamp.

Unable to bear the thought of another boring summer Chris and his friends decide to put the legend to the test.

But, when it turns out to be all too real, they'll have to face their greatest fears if they're going to survive the summer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sleeping Possum Press
• Release date: Oct 21, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386659969

Jacob Peyton

Jacob Peyton, is a horror and science fiction writer from rural Virginia. When not writing he enjoys cheesy B movies and spaghetti westerns, traveling, and playing video games. For more information on upcoming books or to contact Jacob go to his website: www.jacobpeyton.com

Book preview

Prologue

Beacon Hills, 1998

Randy Noeland wasn’t supposed to be out this late. His parents had been fast asleep when he’d snuck out. They were the least of his worries, last thing he wanted was a bored deputy with nothing but time on their hands to bring him home. Not when he was this close to the truth. He didn’t care about being out after curfew or his parents grounding him for the rest of the year, because he’d finally figured out what caused his brother’s death.

Or at least he thought he had.

He’d painstakingly put together everything he and his friends had done leading up to that last week. The week before, two of his brother’s best friends had disappeared and his brother had drowned. All the things that his parents didn’t want to think about, things that they and the rest of the town were more than happy to leave in the past.

Like everyone else, his parents were happy to believe that his brother's death and the disappearances of his friends were simply a series of tragic coincidences. But the fact was, his brother Paul was gone, and he was never coming back. And neither were any of the other missing kids. Which is why no one was searching for them.

The adults knew... deep down; they remembered why you never went into the swamp. Never called her name. They knew, just like he did, that she’d come for them.

At the edge of the swamp Randy flicked his flashlight on and looked out over the dark, muddy terrain/ The peepers and bull frogs didn’t make a sound. An odd occurrence on a lazy summer night. Randy shivered as he felt the sudden chill in the air. A noticeable change from the constant summer humidity.

It felt the same way as it had the night when Paul went missing.

Like Randy, Paul had made the trip out to the swamp all by himself. He’d caught his brother that night sneaking out of the house the same way he had tonight he thought with a small twinge of guilt. Caught him with a backpack and a flashlight, Paul had told him everything was going to be all right. That he was going to fix everything so it would all go back to normal.

He’d lied.

Paul’s plan had failed, but Randy’s wouldn’t. That he was sure of. To avenge his brother, he’d stop her once and for all.

As he walked through the mud and the muck, he looked for the trail that would lead him up to the old house. He didn’t go near the water.

He didn’t dare.

She was out there. He could feel it, like the surrounding swamp was watching him. Waiting for him to make the mistake that would cost him his life, but he knew the rules. She was waiting for him, and she could keep waiting because he would not make it easy on her.

He wouldn’t call her name... he wouldn’t even think it.

He found the trail easily enough. His heart thudded in his chest as he moved up the trail. When he heard a stick snap off to the left, he didn’t dare turn his head. She might be wandering around, watching him, waiting for him to get close, but she wouldn’t try to stop him. Not yet. She couldn’t at least that’s what his brother’s journal made it seem like.

His brother's journal had clarified that she preferred it when the children came to her. He’d found that out. Oh yes, he knew from talking to Mr. Crancher that she had a specific set of rules she had to follow before she could come after those, she deemed hers.

Paul had kept a somewhat detailed journal about what he’d learned by watching his friends end up dead or go missing one by one. Then he’d tracked down older deaths and disappearances from as far back as he could. When he wasn’t partying, Paul had always been smart. Smarter than their parents or his teachers had given him credit for.

Randy supposed if his brother had been really smart, though, he never would have set foot in this swamp. His brother had worked hard trying to discover the source of the evil that plagued Beacon Swamp, all while being hunted by the same entity. He just didn’t have the time to finish the job.

Randy knew what his parents didn’t. His brother’s death wasn’t an accident. Paul had been swimming since before Randy was born. He loved the water, there was no way he’d accidentally drowned himself down in the swamp.

Somewhere deep down his parents had to know that, maybe they just didn’t want to think about it either. Maybe like Paul had said repeatedly in his journal they just wanted it to all be over.

And he knew that the sheriff and his deputies, no matter how many members of the State Police they called in, would never find out what happened to his brother. They couldn’t, Mrs. Hernshaw didn’t go for adults.   It wasn’t part of the rules.

He knew Paul had come out here. He wondered if when walking through the low-hanging cypress trees and wiping spider webs off his face, if his brother had been afraid. Paul was two years older and played on the football team. Their dad had always said that Paul was tough as nails.

But Randy was scared. More scared than he’d ever been in his entire life.

Scared, because he knew once he saw the house. Once he called her name that he wouldn’t have much time to finish what his brother started. He’d known the day Paul went missing what had happened. His boots were gone and, more importantly, so was the gas can they used for their minibike.

His brother had warned him to stay away from the swamp, warned him that if he went missing not to look for him. He’d told everyone that, right up until they found his body floating face down.

After they found Davey drowned in his bathroom sink, Paul changed completely. He became more secretive and paranoid. To where he even began sleeping with the lights on. And if the smell was anything to go on, Randy doubted his brother had showered for days. His parents thought that after losing so many of his friends over the summer that Paul was depressed, so before his disappearance, they’d been talking about sending him to talk to someone, a professional.

Paul swore to Randy that something was after him, something from the swamp. An old evil that wouldn’t stop until it claimed him too.

But he was going to stop it his brother had promised. He was going to be the hero that he knew he could be, by vanquishing this evil before it took any more innocent lives. Just like the roleplaying games, he played with his friends. Sometimes the heroes didn’t always make it though, Randy thought, an ache in his heart as he did so.

Following the clearing, he found the path leading up to the house. It wasn’t much, just a small and somewhat dry path that led through the trees and up to the house.

When Randy reached the house, he knew he was in trouble. Not the kind he could get himself out of, either. This was it. No matter what happened next, he knew that there was a chance he wasn’t going home.

A loose tear broke free and slid down his cheek. He wiped it away and steeled himself for what he knew he had to do.

He knew what had to happen next, for his brother who was gone and his sister who was too young to realize what he was doing and why. Randy needed to finish this before anyone else got hurt. If anyone was going to have a chance in this town, he needed to stop the evil that plagued this place once and for all. Because if he didn’t, then all would have died for nothing.

Randy sniffled. He didn’t want to die.

But, like his brother Paul had always said when he’d been alive, wish in one hand, shit in the other, see which one fills up faster. Thinking of Paul helped him feel surer of himself. His older brother always knew what needed to be done before he did.

He’d always been confident. Randy pulled from Paul’s memory just a little as he shifted his backpack so that he could unzip it. Pulling out the little gas canister he’d stolen from the Robinson’s shed, he cradled it in his hands as he marched up to the house, feeling that eyes were on him the whole time. The fuel was his safety blanket. He knew that with it, he could finish his mission.

When he and Paul had played soldiers when they were younger, Randy had always won. Mostly because he’d always had what his dad called conviction. That’s what he had now.

Randy felt it in himself as he went through the small thicket and his stomachs started doing flips. The house reminded him of an old, dead skull, with its broken glass, and open doors leering down on him. It was worse than anything that his imagination could have conjured.

The front door was wide open as if beckoning him to come inside. The place looked like the swamp had tried to reclaim it at some point, but then decided against it at the last minute. Seemed like nature had chewed the whole place up and spit it back out.

He was fishing for his lighter when he heard someone singing from inside the house. The music was beautiful. Like a lullaby meant for children. He looked up and there was now a soft glow inside the house, as if the lights were on.

Randy put the gas canister down and started fumbling harder for the lighter he’d stuffed in his jeans pocket. Something he’d taken from his mother's purse on the way out of the house. That was something at least he didn’t even feel bad about. They were always trying to get her to quit. The lullaby sounded nice, then he heard it.

Something that made his hands stop searching for just a minute.

Randy! Paul's voice shouted from inside the house.

Paul? Randy shouted back excitedly. His brother was

Reviews for The Legend of Beacon Swamp

[Eoniru · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

Could have been a passable if mindless distraction but apparently neither the author nor the publisher ever heard of proofreading. This is a first draft at best, not a finished manuscript.