Sweetie

“Sweetie!” she calls, and I come, racing across the swamp, my feet leaving no footprints in the marshy ground. I run into her arms, she holds me tight. We dance among the water and weeds.

Mama and Sweetie, together for always.

I was born in the Sweetgrass Swamp, in a house on stilts, to my mother, Dearest. The swamp was our home, and we spent our days and nights there. We knew which plants were safe to eat, which rats and frogs were good when cooked over our little fireplace. I never saw anyone but my mother, and she rarely saw anyone but me. Every now and again, she would need something the swamp couldn’t give us- perhaps our clothes were more holes than fabric or we needed more fishing line to catch mudfish. Mama would pack up some of the cure-alls she made from plants and swamp creatures and head off to the nearby town to swap them for what we needed. I would beg her to come, but she never let me. So I would lie on our mattress by the fire, watching the flames burn down all night, waiting for her to return.  

As I grew older, I tried to follow her out of the swamp, but familiar paths would become unfamiliar, trees would grow where there had been none before, and I would find myself up to my waist in swamp water. Mama had her ways. I would turn, muddy and grumpy, and stomp back to the house. By the time mama got home, my anger would have gone, and I would just be happy to see her.

The first time I met a man was the day they came to throw us out. There was a group of them, standing on our veranda. “Now Ms Lee, you have to leave now! We’re developing this whole damn swamp, and staying put won’t help none!”

Mama came to the door, arms crossed, scoffing at the men, “You men are fools! This swamp has been here since the beginning of time, it’ll be here after you’re dead!”

“Is that a threat?” I heard one man mutter, “I heard she’s a witch!”

“Shut up, she can’t hurt us! Grab her!”

They slammed the screen door open, grabbing Mama. “Sweetie!,” she screamed, “run!”

I ran into the swamp. But it didn’t help. They were grown and a lot faster.  They grabbed me, there was a scuffle, then I was watching from way on high. They were carrying a body that looked a lot like mine, laying it down on veranda. Mama was screaming my name.

After that, I went away for a while, I don’t know where. When I came back, Mama was still on the veranda, hugging that body that looked like me. She was crying my name, so I came to her, and put my hand on her arm. She looked up, “Sweetie! You came back!” She threw her arms around me but they went right through me.

“Come on Sweetie, let’s go to bed.”

We lay down on our mattress, and she put her arms around me, although she couldn’t seem to hold onto me any more, and her arms just went through. We lay like that all night.

It took me a while to realise I was a ghost. Maybe when you’re not solid anymore, it’s harder to think- your thoughts aren’t as solid either, they’re always drifting off. I lived in that house with Mama, occasionally drifting off, I don’t know where. Sometimes, I just wasn’t there, but I always came back when Mama called my name.

One day, I was brought back from wherever I went to by the sound of voices. Padding through the swamp, my feet floating just above the mud, I found myself at the edge of the trees, looking out at a couple of children- two girls around my age, I thought. One was a little larger, the other a little smaller. They wore neat, pretty dresses, much fancier than anything I ever owned. I called out to them. They smiled and ran towards me into the swamp, mud speckling their pretty dresses.

The girls and I played together often after that. The next time they came they were in dungarees and old flannel shirts, obviously their mama didn’t like them getting their nice things dirty.

I loved Mama more than anything, but it was such fun to play with someone my own age.  We would run through the swamp, playing hide and go seek. I would teach them to catch frogs and mudfish, although they refused to catch the rats and would shriek when they saw their little furry bodies scampering by.

One day, one of the girls fell into a deep part of the swamp. We tried to pull her out. Of course, I was no help, my hands just went through her. I remember she screamed as the mud sucked her down, then there was just the mud bubbling and the sound of the other girl’s sobs. She left eventually, trailing home to tell her mama the terrible news. 

I waited there, waited as the day faded into night. I knew Mama would miss me but she would not worry. Nothing could hurt me anymore. I waited, listening to the small things scurrying in the night. 

It wasn’t until the first light of dawn when the girl awakened. She rose from the swamp, head first, floating out of the brackish water. Like me, she bore no mark of her death. She was as she had been, a pretty child with long plaits and a worn pair of dungarees. She looked at herself, “oh, thank the lord, I am alright!” She started away across the swamp, not even paying me any attention. I sighed, following after her, she did not notice that our feet never touched the mud or that we left no prints behind us.

I did not follow her to her house. It was outside the swamp. I knew that her mama wasn’t special like mine, she wouldn’t be able to see her. Her sister probably would, she had been able to see me after all. She would be frightened, and maybe, eventually, she would come back to me. She would want answers.

I waited. Night fell again. I thought I should go home, Mama must be missing me. Before I could leave I saw the bright lights moving towards me. It was a group of men and women, carrying lighted branches. They came to the edge of the swamp, and held the branches up the the trees. The trees sputtered, fought, but they set alight. The fire would gutter when it reached the wet ground at the bottom of the trees, but their crowns burned merrily, passing the flame between them.  The fire passed from tree to tree and soon half the swamp was ablaze. The ground was covered in rats and frogs, fleeing the flame. The flame that moved towards our little house.

I fled before the flame, calling for Mama. I saw her come onto the veranda. 

“Mama, they set the swamp on fire!”

“I know, sweetie. A little girl drowned last night in the swamp. They want to make sure it will never happen again. They’re going to drain the swamp.”

“But Mama, where will I go? I can’t leave the swamp!”

“It doesn’t matter, Sweetie. Either you will vanish or you will remain here. Either way, I’ll be with you.”

“What do you mean, Mama? You have to leave!”

“Look at me, Sweetie!”

The flames were all around us now, the house was on fire. Mama was a shining light. I could  see the fire through her.

“It’s OK, Sweetie. We’ll be together for always now. Come here!”

She wrapped her arms around me and this time I could feel her arms. I hugged her tightly. My arms didn’t go through her.

The swamp survived the fire. It survived their attempts to drain it. The swamp always goes on, as do we. I play with the ghost of that little girl, but I always listen for the sound of Mama calling me. I love Mama more than anything.

“Sweetie,” she calls, and I come, racing across the swamp, my feet leaving no footprints in the marshy ground. I run into her arms, she holds me tight. We dance among the water and weeds.

Mama and Sweetie, together for always. 

Copyright Laura Morrigan 2021