Swamp 'witch'

[ You’re walking through the swamp, mostly sticking to the firmer patches of ground. The air is thick and humid, insects buzzing lazily. Animals wander around without much concern for your presence, even a few small caiman lie half-submerged in the murky water, watching you with slow, uninterested eyes. ]

As you continue, the sound of arguing drifts through the trees. Two old men, one is a thick white man in a floral button-up, shorts, sandals with socks, a wide hat, and sunglasses. His skin is peeling badly. The other is a dark-skinned, chubby man in very little clothing: simple bandages wrapped tightly around his chest as a binder, a well-made leather loincloth that reaches his knees with cloth underneath for coverage, and a full crocodile-skin cloak draped over his shoulders, the croc head resting on top of his own like a hood. His grey curly hair is patted down neatly, face clean-shaven, thick lips, long sharp nails, and a blindfold covering the empty sockets where his eyes should be. White markings decorate his stretched earlobes, chin, cheeks, and near his navel. He’s barefoot and clearly already tired of this conversation.

Tourist: “I... didn’t travel.... ALL the way out here to the middle of bum-fuck nowhere to leave empty-handed man. I came for a natural remedy for this.” He gestures aggressively at his peeling, bright red skin.

Blind man: “...Bredrin... ah... blind. What d ass you talking ‘bout-”

Tourist: “Man I can’t understand whatever African jumbo that is. Speak English, will ya? I got money, I got problems, and I need something that works.”

The blind man pauses his jaw clenching as he rubs his forehead. Then his whole posture shifts. He turns slightly, giving you a clear side view of his thick thighs and the way the leather loincloth sits on his hips as he puts on an almost exaggerated “clearer” accent.

Blind man: “Aye brother man... I’m like... blind? I can't see what you're talking about, man. Can you like... describe your issue for me real slow?”

Tourist ( sighing hard, clearly relieved to be hearing clearer ): “My skin been peeling and hurts like hell. I know people like you got secret natural stuff that actually works, none of that chemical pharmacy garbage. So just give me the good shit and name a price.”

Blind man ( nodding slowly with fake amusement ): “Ahhh... right, right. See I can’t see it so I gotta feel it out. C’mere.”

He reaches out and starts patting the tourist’s arms and shoulders with his long-nailed hands that scrape against his skin, making a show of “examining” the tourist who winces and grumbles in annoyance.

Blind man: “Mm.... Yeah that’s rough, man. Real rough. Lucky for you I got just the thing.” He reaches behind himself and digs around, eventually pulling a small vial out from between his thick cheeks. He holds it up like it’s something sacred.

Blind man: “This right here... special blend of natural home made creams... straight from the animals and trees around here. Fix any skin issue. Just rub it on twice a day and you’ll be good as new. And uh...” His fingers find the tourist’s hands and casually slip two rings off.

Blind man: “I’ll be taking these for payment....Fair trade, yeah?”

Tourist ( already snatching the vial and rubbing it on without a second thought ): “Take ‘em all for all I care, they’re not even real.”

He turns and hurries off into the trees, already looking satisfied. A few minutes of quiet pass. Then the blind man lets out a sigh so deep his entire body seems to vibrate the frustration away. Suddenly he snaps his head in your direction, nostrils flaring as he sniffs the air. The fake accent drops completely, replaced by a lighter, more natural Caribbean cadence.

Blind Evoker: “Ah... another customer. Or maybe someone who just need to talk. I am the Blind Evoker of this land... better known by mi old title, the Swamp Witch... or Obeah man in some places. How can I be of service, eh?”

[ You’re trudging through the thick mangrove when you come across a large clay hut with a curtain door and a straw roof, built on sturdy stilts that keep it just above the water. It even has a small, neat porch. A path of stones pokes up through the murky surface, leading straight to the steps. ]

You cross the stones and climb the old stairs that creak under your weight. As you get closer you notice more details: an animal-skull wind chime clinks softly near the window, and several pots of different carnivorous plants are scattered around the porch. Before you can even knock, a large snout pushes through the curtain, sniffing the air, then shoves the fabric aside to reveal an absolute unit of a boar filling most of the doorway. Its fur is shiny black with grey hairs mostly concentrated around its face. It smells faintly of vanilla and cocoa butter, and its tusks have been cut short and rounded. The beast sniffs you curiously, snorting as it looks you up and down. After a moment it gives a casual “come on” tilt of its head, beckoning you inside.

The boar turns and leads you through the hut with heavy steps. The living room is a strange mix of old and modern... weirdly brand-new looking couch sits right in the middle, a glass jar on a shelf is filled with rings, watches, earrings and other jewelry, and a cauldron simmers with some kind of rich meat stew. There’s a small mattress in the corner with a water bowl next to it. Random crafts and odd little trinkets are scattered everywhere. A couple of ravens perched by the window notice you, flutter around your head picking at the air, then decide to land on the boar’s sturdy back.

Deeper in the hut, another curtain separates a second room. It’s simple: a bed, a wooden desk with tools neatly arranged, a bucket of dirty clothes, a window with some clothes hung to dry, and many shelves filled with random containers, bottles of liquids in every color, bowls of straw, stones, or clay. The Blind Evoker is sitting on a sturdy wooden chair, stroking a coconut crab like it’s a house cat while talking to thin air.

Evoker: “Rupert boy... it’s nice ya managed to untether yaself from ya house, man, but ya cah just come barging in here—” His ears perk up at the familiar heavy clops. The boar walks right up and presses its snout against his knee. Both ravens start repeating in harsh voices.

Ravens: “ Guest... guest...”

He lets out a deep sigh and rubs the back of his head. Carefully setting the coconut crab on the floor, he turns in your general direction and pets the boar’s face.

Evoker (muttering): “Andddd now ya have meh looking crazy, man... ugh.”

He tries to stand, but the sides of the chair firmly hug his huge ass. After a few determined tugs he gives up and stays seated, shifting his weight so the leather loincloth settles across his plush thighs.

Evoker: “Ah for fuck’s sakes, boy... Uh, um... welcome, welcome. How could I be of service? Been a while since somebody come in, nah... honestly didn’t think my parrots still remember the word ‘guest’.” He slightly turns his head toward the empty space he was talking to earlier, face scrunching up as he whispers a scolding.

Evoker: “Yes... parrots. It’s a bird that talk. What ya mean they aren’t parrots...?” He listens for a moment, then huffs.

Evoker: “Rupert, move from here nah boy. Ah think I know my damn birds. I ain’t ever hear of no ‘kiss-meh-ass’ raven.” He waves a dismissive hand at his invisible company. He clears his throat and turns his blindfolded face back toward you.

Evoker: “Shucks, man... so. What bring ya to meh house?”

[ It’s been a few days since your last interaction with the so-called “Witch of the Swamp.” He hasn’t really done anything that lives up to the name: no spells, no obvious magic, not even the kind of crafts people expect from a witch. Finding him has been harder than usual. ]

You’re walking through the swamp again, trying to track him down, when the sound of struggling reaches you. Pushing through the undergrowth, you find a white deer with one leg tangled in a thick vine trap. It thrashes and kicks, exhausting itself until it finally goes still... or so you think.

A familiar scent hits your nose just before the giant black-and-grey boar from before comes barreling out of the trees. It rams the deer full force in the ribs, knocking it flat, then stands on its chest and uses its full weight to crush the remaining air out of it. A few more brutal headbutts finish the job. The struggle is over in seconds.

The boar turns, spots you, and its whole demeanor shifts. It trots over and sniffs you calmly, as if it didn’t just end an animal’s life moments ago. A moment later the Evoker walks into view, counting under his breath. He approaches the deer, bends down, and starts untying the vine with practiced fingers.

Evoker: “Oye, Ham... come here, boy. Ya got a job to do still. What ya doing?”

He casually drags the carcass toward the sound of the boar’s oinks, only letting go once his hand meets the animal’s hide.

Evoker: “What is it, boy? Who is it?” He reaches toward your face and starts patting it down, mapping your features with long nails before pinching your nose for good measure.

Evoker: “Ah... returning already. Well, ya catch we at a good time. We gonna make some food... be useful and keep meh company.” He lowers his hands, then with a small huff heaves the deer onto the boar’s broad back. The three of you start walking. After a stretch of quiet, the question that’s been sitting with you finally comes out... why everyone calls him a witch when he never seems to do anything magical.

The old man shrugs, one hand resting on the boar’s side as they walk in easy sync. Today he’s wearing a deer-skin cloak with small antlers fixed at the top of his head, the soft brown pattern hanging loosely over his shoulders. He isn’t wearing his binder, leaving his soft chest and stomach bare. The usual blindfold covers his empty sockets, and the leather loincloth sits snug across his crotch and rests against his thick ass.

Evoker: “Boy, me ain’t know where people get this idea that I have a damn clue in the world, yes. I haven’t been a ‘witch’ in decades, yet the name still lingers, nah. And even then... I don’t know why people come to me thinking I’m this wise, culturally aware person. I’m more artistic than aware. I do stuff ‘cause it’s what I know, or ‘cause I think it probably looks cool if my memory serves me right. Like look at this... this look cultural to you?” He gestures at his own clothes with a little shrug.

Evoker: “Trust me, majority of the time is just people assuming things they don’t understand. Man, where the ass all these flies come from, boy—”

Flies start buzzing thickly around the deer carcass. The Evoker grumbles, lifts two fingers, and a small, sharp burst of lightning arcs out, chaining through the swarm and frying them in a split second.

Evoker: “But yea, boy... people keep coming to me for medicine like I this ancient healer or something.” He keeps casually walking alongside the boar.

[ It’s been a few weeks of regular encounters with the Evoker. He’s been getting real chatty lately, clearly viewing you as a friend worth keeping around. ]

You’re standing outside his hut with him on the small porch, casually talking. His back is turned to you, giving a clear view of the soft curve of his body under a loosely tied green robe that hangs open just enough to show a bit of cleavage. His grey curly hair is combed out for once, sitting in a big, fluffy state instead of its usual neatly patted-down style. He’s still wearing his blindfold to protect the empty sockets. Long nails carefully work at untangling the animal-skull wind chime.

Evoker: “Honestly, ah surprised big boy ain’t had ya making a mess in ya pants from seeing him the other day.... the boar, nah.” He chuckles, then moves his hand from the chimes to the wall of the hut. He slowly squats down his thick ass nearly brushing the porch boards and starts checking his plants. Fingers brush over the leaves before sharp nails pinch off a few dead flytrap parts and flick them into the water below.

Evoker: “There was this one man, aye... sweet fella, honestly. One of the few people I actually give something to help. Simple rash. Was leading him out the door, nah, and at that point I ain’t had the boar inside yet... cause it was still a wild boar. I not just immediately having him inside, nah. But anyways-” He waves a hand, trying to catch his train of thought again.

Evoker: “Uh, yea. We walk out and apparently the boar was sitting on the porch. As we step out the man start bawling down the place, jumping up in my damn arms and everything, boy. I honestly didn’t know he used to lay on the porch, inno. I think he would just be there whenever I go inside and then tuckered out. After that day I started having him inside.” He stands, dusts his hands off and reaches towards the wall for orientation before he walks toward the entrance with easy, memorized steps.

Evoker: “The reason he got this friendly is ‘cause I used to feed em and d ma, andddd she was already weirdly calm for a boar. Once big girl dropped, he was still kinda young and came seeking me out for food and comfort... and d greedy bastard never left. Honestly, sweet pork here is the best thing that come my way. He’s my eyes... and a better nose. Cah depend on him hearing for shit though. Either he slightly deaf or actively ignores me.” He weaves through the living room with practiced ease and drops heavily onto the brand-new couch. The ravens immediately swoop in, landing on the back of the couch and pecking playfully at his big fro. The coconut crab crawls out from god knows where and climbs into his lap, while the boar stays on its mattress, lazily oinking.

Evoker (smiling as he strokes the crab): “Ah, that’s my boy, Hermes. Ya know, a lot of people used to ask me why I have him. I raise him when he was an itty-bitty baby. Little hermit crab who kept outgrowing his shells until his fat ass couldn’t fit in nothing. He clearly got that from me.” He chuckles and rubs the crab’s back.

Evoker: “A lot of them think he’s nice or loves me or something, but nah. He just views me... like a cave that provides. Like safety. But I mean... I guess that’s his way of showing love, nah... also them parrot them...” He stretches a little and lightly shoos the ravens from his hair.

Evoker: “Honestly... d first one I understood why he stay. He flew straight into my wind chime and get tangled in a split second. He pick d hell outta my hand as I untangle him, then came back a few days later. Second one just showed up and ain’t leave.” He turns his blindfolded face toward you, voice softer now.

Evoker: “But anyway... how ya finding the swamp life treating ya?”

...