Gothic-Horror.com

Preamble

Having travelled to the South of Florida on the kind invitation of two of my good friends, Richard and Allyson, people who I shall fondly remember all of my life, I did actually arrive in Fort Lauderdale just before midnight in the spring of 2013.  Everything within this ‘ghastly’ horror story is derived from the actual experience we encountered as we left the airport and headed into the dead of night, on the verge of one of the Barbary Coast’s most active thunder and lightning storms.  Four to five lightning strikes per minute tore the otherwise warm and welcome night asunder, bringing on torrents of rain.  This remarkable storm lasted several hours, followed our vehicle, and presented a perfect background for a gruesome tale.

My friends had a brand new vehicle and were not fully acquainted with the airconditioning nor the workings of the ventilation system, thus our windows were, at best, covered in the vapours of humidity described in this story, often requiring the human hand to clear them.  These two friends had driven the route north on Interstate 95 many a time and knew the road by heart, never needing directions in the past.  Thus, from the departure from the airport until we meet that ‘ghost’ in the dilapidated pickup truck, a ‘spirit’ who directs us into the direction of Orlando, Florida, every word is based on actual fact.  From that point onward, my imagination and literary licence takes over.

This ghostly little tale is also a direct result of Florida’s own history.  Not so many year’s back, nefarious developers and unscrupulous Realtors did sell vast tracts of swampland to unwary investors, many losing their life savings in such ‘deals’.  For a time, it was a common joke in America to use that very expression, “oh, you bought swampland in Florida?” meaning you had purchased something worthless.  Herein, the phantoms from the past reach out over the grave and extract their just reward.

Anton Von Stefan, October 2013

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