The last witness to something that probably shouldn’t exist but does.

When my heart finally gives out, and it will soon, this story dies with me unless I put it down in words.

So, here it is.

The truth about the W with Lakuchi swamp.

The truth about the things that walk upright in places where no man should go.

The truth about intelligence that predates our civilization and patience that measures time and geological epics rather than human lifespans.

Make of it what [music] you will.

Believe it or don’t, it makes no difference to me now.

I’ve carried this burden for 67 years and I’m tired.

Tired of remembering.

Tired of watching the shadows.

Tired of jumping at every sound in the night.

But the memories are clear as yesterday.

The smell of rotting cabbage and something worse.

The sound of Roberto’s rifle echoing across black water.

The weight of those terrible eyes studying me with alien intelligence.

The rumbling voice that granted me mercy for reasons I’ll never understand.

I see them sometimes in the space between sleeping and waking.

Standing at the edge of my vision, patient is stone, waiting.

Not for me.

I’m too old now, too broken.

No longer worth the hunt.

but waiting nonetheless because that’s what they do.

What they’ve always done.

The deep places of the world keep their secrets.

But sometimes if you’re very unlucky or very foolish, the secrets find you first.

My name is Samuel Bordeaux.

I was the only survivor of the CR Lumber Company’s Blackwater contract in the summer of 1907.

18 men went into the W with Luchi swamp.

I’m the only one who came out.

This is what I saw.

This is what I know.

This is what I’ve carried.

God help me.

This is the truth.