LANTERN MARSH
The marsh brooded on the outskirts of town. We children sometimes played there during the day, poling flat-bottomed boats through the dark water choked with swamp hyacinth, stranding ourselves on any of the hundreds of tiny islands. By day the marsh was a place of filtering, shifting patches of sunlight, cypress and live oak bearded with Spanish moss, velvety brown cattails that would burst into clouds of white snow if you smacked them against the back of your friend’s head, and unfounded rumors of quicksand pools full of skeletons and treasure.
At night, the lanterns took over.
Our parents forbade us to go into the marsh at night. Usually this rule needed no enforcing, but at one time or another, most of us had worked up enough courage to creep to the edge of the marsh wi
