“Yon shadowy bark hath been to that wreck,

And the dim blue fire that lights her deck

Doth play on as pale and livid a crew

As ever yet drank the churchyard dew!”

–The Ghost Ship by Sir Thomas Moore

Children of horror, we are passing haunted Avalon Island. Hear the roar of towering waves as they crash against rock, whispering marsh, and sand shore off the coast of Louisiana. In the distance between freezing ice and rolling fog we see a twisted, wrecked pirate ship. As you smell the brine and seaweed, you can see the long, ghostly shadows haunting the ancient vessel. The aged, creaking hull solemnly sits in foamed surf. Cold winds howl their discontent and invite you to stay an eternal guest on board the decayed structure.

As bats flutter past, we realize too late this is the crypt of Antoine Valterre, “The Devil of Black Bayou”.

As bats flutter past, we realize too late this is the crypt of Antoine Valterre, “The Devil of Black Bayou”.

Follow on children of horror as we journey ever on into shadowed waterways, fog-foetid bayous, and amongst the darkness of decayed swamp without torch, flashlight, or candle flame.

Those leathered wings you hear are nothing to fear. And the gnash of fangs can’t be a v—, or can they? There’s no such thing of course.

Who is “The Devil of Black Bayou”? What tragedy and sacrifice befell the monster who can never drink the churchyard dew?