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I want to turn around and tell her to shut up, but I think better of it. Even though Stella can be terrible, she has been helpful. I remind myself of how she flew me over the forest today. I just don’t know how someone can be so hot and cold all of the time.
“Stop being so mean, Stella,” Candi snaps.
“Anyway,” Ason continues, waving his hand to block my view of Stella, “The car was driving one night when a cargo ship hit the bridge– causing the bridge to collapse into the water below. The car dropped into the water and killed all five people inside. At the time, the bridge was known as the John P. Grace Memorial Bridge. However, since it has been repaired, it is now known as the Arthur Ravenel Jr. Bridge. Anytime you see the car, the people inside seem to be staring straight ahead, with lifeless eyes. You can wave and scream, but they won’t look at you.”
“Wow, that’s insane,” I gasp, staring at the car.
For a moment, I wonder if they may turn and acknowledge me, but they never do.
As we continue across the bridge, I sit back and think about everything I have yet to learn about this place. Charleston is one of the most haunted cities in the United States, and I never thought to dive into the history behind it all.
Once in Mt. Pleasant, we travel off the main roads and then begin taking small, windy roads that lead deeper into the heart of the low country. Massive Oak Trees lined the roads, houses now long gone or hidden behind groves of wooded areas.
Gravel crunches under the SUV’s tires as we turn off the paved road. The sun starts to settle beyond the horizon and crickets chirp and frogs call as the night begins to arrive.
A small cabin comes into view. It is stacked high above the marshy ground. When Leo shuts off the vehicle, we all sit in silence for a moment. A heavy weight falls upon us as we all know that if this Gullah turns us away, we may never get the knowledge we need to stop the curse of the forest.
“Alright, it’s now or never,” Leo states, taking the lead and getting out of the vehicle first. We all follow his directions and emerge into the evening.
My feet splash on the saturated ground, and I cringe as murky water and overgrowth fall into my red Converse sneakers.
“Gross,” I whine.
Ason chuckles beside me. “Do you want to hop onto my back?”
“No, I can walk. I just forgot that we were walking into the swamps,” I say.
We have come to the Charleston swamps with a purpose, but I couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of this strange, otherworldly landscape. The water was murky and still, and the air was thick with the smell of moss and rot. The cabin seemed to sit on a lone island surrounded by swamps. The trees were tall and dark, their branches reaching out across the sky like bony fingers.
We all walked along a stone path that led to the front porch of the cabin that was tucked away inside the trees. It looked old and worn, with weathered siding and brown, peeling paint. Even though the outside appeared ominous, there was something inside of me stirring, telling me not to fear this place. We walked up to the house and stepped onto the creaking porch. A white porch swing sways back and forth in a light breeze that flows from the waters surrounding the area. Two burning scones provide a yellow glow onto the porch. My eyes travel up to the ceiling of the porch and I notice the ceiling is painted a robin egg blue.
“Wow, that’s pretty,” I admire.
“The color is magnificent,” Candi intunes. “Most people in Charleston and Savannah paint the ceilings of their porches this blue. It is supposed to ward off evil spirits and deter them from entering a home. It’s a long-running Gullah tradition.”
“That’s so cool,” I reply, stepping further onto the porch.
The door opens further and a voice beckons us. “Hello, I’ve been waiting for you,” a hoarse voice called, as the front door of the house opened as if on its own accord.
We all stopped moving, our own heart beats drumming loudly.
“We have been sent here by Headmaster Patricia of the Shadow Legacy Academy,” Ason calls out.
He reaches for my hand and pulls me close beside him. I’m not sure if he’s nervous or if it’s just an instinct he has grown to have, but I allow him to protect me nonetheless.
“I know who you are. I’ve been told you were coming this way. Children, come inside before any other spirits find ya,” the old woman says, beckoning for us to enter.
Hesitantly, we all stumble inside the small house, making sure to stay close to one another.
A woman with dark skin and even darker hair stood before us, a warm smile on her wrinkled face. Her colorful skirt swept across the wooden floor as she made her way to a brown leather couch near a stone fireplace. Even though it was humid outside, a raging fire was burning in the hearth.
She motioned for us all to sit on a large, leather couch facing her. Scents of lavender, sage, and fresh burning wood filled the room and it was heavenly.
Still holding my hand, Ason sat close to me as we stared at the woman before us.
“My name is Ceceila. I hear ya have a troublemaker on yer hands,” the woman spoke, her southern accent strong.
“Yes, the Dark Magic Witch who cursed the forest many years ago is drawing in students to gain power. We need to find a way to stop her,” Ason explains, taking the lead of the group.
