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What the Bones Whisper: Meet the Bog Witch Who’s About to Change Everything 🖤🌿
Are you a witch? You might want to sit down before you answer that…There’s a girl in the bayou who talks to crows.Her name is Sarah Beaumont, and for fifteen years, the small town of Jefferson Davis has kept its distance from her. They whisper Swamp Witch behind cupped hands. They edge away in the locker room. They call her obsession with the black water “a coping mechanism.” But here’s what they don’t know: the bayou has been listening to her this whole time.And one afternoon, it finally answers back.
When “Weird” Isn’t a Diagnosis … It’s a Bloodline
Picture this: cypress knees rising from the shallows like ancient sentinels. Metal that stops corroding under your fingertips. A dying spider plant that springs back to life just because you felt sorry for it. For Sarah, the swamp has always been the one place where she belongs , where animals don’t flee from her, where the mud remembers the shape of her footprints, where a girl who eats lunch alone in the library can finally breathe. Then a voice rises from the black water like something that’s been holding its breath for fifteen years:
“Finally. Your mother used to stand in that exact spot.”
Her mother — who didn’t leave. Who the town says the bayou took. 😳
Grandmère Knows Something. And It’s Terrifying.
When Sarah runs home trembling, her grandmother doesn’t laugh. She doesn’t say “it’s just stories.”She goes pale as bone and whispers one word that changes everything:Magick. Turns out, the Beaumont women have been hearing the bayou at sixteen for seven generations — going all the way back to a woman named Mathilde who “walked out of the Louisiana bayou with nothing but the clothes on her back and a head full of knowing.” They’re traiteurs. Conjure women. Root workers.Bog witches. 🕯️But Sarah’s mother? She ran from the calling. And now something is coming for Sarah … early. 🐦⬛
Three Knocks. Black Salt. And a Word Planted in Her Chest.
That very night, the lights die. Footsteps cross the porch. Something hums her mother’s lullaby in the dark … and leaves behind footprints of oily black mud that refuse to dry. Then a crow the size of a nightmare opens its beak and says a single word straight into her bones:
“Soon.”
By morning, the protective salt at the threshold has turned black. A single feather waits on her windowsill. And a mysterious boy named Eli Corbeau , who stands on the water, not in it, appears at the edge of the swamp. Corbeau. Sarah’s rusty French unfolds the word like dark wings.Crow. 🖤
So… Are You a Witch?
If you love stories where:
- 🌙 A girl discovers she can untangle death itself with her bare hands
- 🌿 Southern gothic bayous hum with generations of secret power
- 🐦⬛ Mysterious boys who might not be entirely human show up on the water
- 🔮 The line between “gifted” and “hunted” is razor-thin
…then the swamp has been waiting for you too.Something is beginning. And once you hear it, there’s no going back to not hearing it. 💀
Are You a Witch? … A Bog Witch Novel. Coming from Purple Pen Publishing.
Yes, I just released my latest project. If you know someone who appreciates these types of stories, do them and me a favor and tell them about it.
Some questions, once the swamp asks them, can never be unheard. So before you turn the page, ask yourself one more time. Blessed be or dear reader?
I just published it today, so the link takes you to all of my books. It will show up as soon as Amazon does their thing.
Tell us in the comments: If the bayou whispered your name, would you answer… or would you run? 👇
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