The Ghost of Virginia Cut

The bright summer sun beat relentlessly on the shoulders of the young men as they paddled the boat along the coffee and cream colored, muddy river as it sluggishly rambled along the way toward the Gulf of Mexico. Insects attacked with the ferocity of an invading army.

The excitement of the adventure outweighed the fear of the unknown as the young men looked forward with bravado to the coming night. They had determined to expel the myth of the Ghost of Virginia Cut.

The myth of the Ghost of Virginia Cut has existed in the culture of the small community on the banks of the Apalachicola River in North Florida for many years. There has been the story passed down from generation to generation of the silent Swamp Ghost the inhabits the area, and how the very sight of the ghost will cause all kinds of destruction visited on the viewer.

There is an old man sitting in a nursing home in the area. He has snow white hair and speaks to no one with the exception of me as I am his grandson. He tells of his experience with the ghost on a mid-summer night and the results of that fateful meeting.
What follows is his story:

The boat slowly made its way along the winding slough as the two paddled against the strong current toward the campsite for the night. These two young men had been raised as all the young men of the area for years with the use of rifles and shotguns as second nature to them. All young men in this area are raised to hunt and fish with an eye to conversation and nature in harmony.

The campsite sits on the bank of a small tributary to the river and is several hundred yards from the banks of Virginia Cut. Virginia Cut got its name from the ditch dug into the swamp by the Virginia Lumber Company during the early years of development by the Kraft paper co. The giant Cypress trees in the flat swampy area were harvested for lumber and of high demand and quality so the company dug the ditch to float the trees to the river.

The death of several men from exposure to the elements such as heat, mosquitoes with the malaria virus, snakes, and natural accidents in the nature of the work lends itself to the myth surrounding the area. Myths cover most of the areas in this part of North Florida as it was originally settled by Indians of the Creek, Seminole, and Chipola tribes.

The story I was told goes like this:

Archie and Colon traveled the river as they had done for most of their lives. They were intimately familiar with the twists and turns of the sloughs and byways of the swamp. They knew where the quicksand bogs were and knew where to stay out of and where it was safe to trod. They could find food stuffs from the land, catch fish, hunt, and survive well without the conveniences of a store locally.

The swamps were like a second home to these young men. Their lives had been spent in this lifestyle and upbringing.

Their campsite is established with the precision of a military encampment. Wood cut and laid by for the campfire and slow burning wood placed for the cooking fire. Holes dug for disposal of trash. A slow burning coal based fire-pit placed with the cast iron pots placed in the coals with the food for the initial soup of the first night started cooking.

The day races toward darkness and the men gather for the night with the relaxing attitude of the rested and relaxed. The sounds of the night pervade the thoughts of the men as they lounge by the fire and discuss the plans for meeting the ghost they hope to encounter. As with the young and in-experienced, there is no fear, just the bravado of the foolish.

Days and nights passed with the relaxing and the fishing, hunting and just doing nothing and the time to go home approaches too fast. The night comes early to the swamps as the cypress trees with the Spanish moss flowing in the breeze like the shredded burial shrouds of the long dead flowing in the breeze.

The sounds of the night include the howl of a hunters dogs across the swamp. The splash of an alligator as it slides into the murky waters in search of its nightly meal, the croak of the large bullfrogs that pervade the area, the splash of fish jumping in the slough. The drone of the thousands of insects buzz the night. Crickets and the hundreds of creatures that call these swamps home cause a constant buzz of sound through the swamp.

With the suddenness of a lightening bolt the sound stops. The lack of sound is as great a noise as the drone of a few moments before. Being experienced in the swamps habits this lack of sound is cause for concern as the insects and night animals will become silent in the presence of danger.

The instant silence brought the young men to their feet as they turned around looking for the cause. They both reached for the weapons they had with them. There across the flats of the swamp was a grayish, greenish glow that seemingly flowed from the ground upward through the tree tops and slowly floated to the ground again as it slowly moved directly toward the campsite.

The fright left the men as the loaded up all the weapons and positioned themselves as the apparition advanced toward their position. The silence of the swamp became deafening as the thing moved toward the young men. Fear grew with unbounded expression. Archie yells, “I am leaving now. Get in the boat if you are going with me,” as he headed to the boat. Archie pushed the boat into the current and paddled as fast as he could away from the site leaving Colon on the bank alone.

Colon yelled, “Come Back,” Archie never answered, just kept paddling away.
The grayish, Greenish flow slowly moved toward the stranded man as he stood alone and scared. The sound of the shotgun roared until empty as the flowing, rolling, swirling ghost moved toward the startled man. Out of shells and scared he closed his eyes as the flow moved over him covering him with the brushing, soft feeling of angels wings as it covered him from head to foot.

Daylight found Colon staggering through the swamp waters of the flat land between the slough of the camp and the banks of Virginia Cut. The loggers found the man as he stared into the covering of the cypress tree boughs overhead as if looking for something. He could not answer their questions, he could not speak, and the look of wildness about him made the myth grow as he could not explain the totally white hair, the lack of sound from his mouth, and the look of strangeness in his eyes. Eyes that spoke of the untold terror of the night in Virginia Cut.

For many years he sat in the home and told the same story after he regained his ability to speak. The story is of the night he met the angels in the swamp. Many have tried to unravel this mystery, few have stayed long in the deep swamps, the thoughts that occur cause fear to enter and they leave without the ghost having visited them.

Shortly after this story was related to me I went to the same swamp and determined to disprove the existence of this ghost prepared to stay as long as necessary. I did not have to wait long. On the third night the sound died instantly and the glow moved slowly across the swamp toward me. Fear such as I have never known filled the very core of my being as I watched this thing move unerringly toward me.

I had arranged for some very strong equipment for this event and had decided to find out the truth or die trying. Sweat dripped down my nose, sweat ran in rivulets down my back as the first of the glow touched the fringes of my campsite. Not a sound could be heard, nothing solid could be seen, just a grayish, greenish glow pervading the space. The air seemed to grow thick and heavy, my breath became ragged as I gripped the trigger of the flame thrower in my hands and point the nozzle toward the entity moving toward me.

The flash of the flame and the jerk of the spray device caused me to stagger and drop the nozzle as the flame singed the aberration and it just disappeared from sight. There was no sleep that night as the fear stayed with me as I prayed for daylight.

Day came, the sun rose with a special brightness as I slowly moved around the area and began to laugh at the findings of the nights work.

The ghost of Virginia Cut had been revealed. The ground was covered with the bodies of thousands of fireflies that group and move in swarms through the humid, damp, swampy flat lands. The wings of the angels were the millions of the flies touching the face and skin that caused the sensations of being touched by the angels.