- the roads around here are bordered by gloomy tropical forests. the lukewarm air rushes through the leaves of the tallest palms. When the car windows are down, they sound like they're whispering things to you.
- you find a pile of old bones near the edge of the marshlands. They look too big to be deer, too small to be a horse, to straight to be an alligator. You don't go to that part of the marshlands again.
- you spend your days camping, lounging around in canvas chairs and reading. When you're outside, though, your eyes keep flicking back to the ominous woods. You can't stop seeing movement, but you tell yourself its just the heat creating mirages.
- little kids from the cabin across from yours splash around in the brown shallows of the swampy lake. You decide not to tell them about the lone canoe you've seen out there at night, or how no-one here owns a canoe.
- a child holds a fishing rod, taking instructions from his father. There's probably no fish in here, but his hook snags on something. He reels in the line eventually, but there's nothing on it. You're pretty sure you saw something roundish and white bob to the surface and sink back down. It was roughly the size of a human head.
- at night you hear howls. They are very, very, deep, unlike coyotes and very rough, unlike wolves. They almost sound like a man.
- you peer into the murky waters of the marsh as you pack up. You keep thinking you see something beneath the brown coat of dirt, sticks and algae. Scaled tails swish and dark shapes shift while eyes stalk you from the trees. If there were gators out here, they wouldn't let people fish, or kids play in the shallows. There aren't gators here. So what's in the water?
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