[Swamp insects loud… then suddenly silent]
[Heavy breathing close to the mic]
Every Louisiana child hear the story eventually.
The Rougaroux.
Beast of the bayou.
Teeth like knives.
Eyes yellow as sick moons.
Hunger that never sleep.
[Chains dragging slowly through mud]
The old Cajuns say:
if you wander too deep in the swamp after midnight…
you might hear him breathin’.
Not growlin’.
Breathin’.
[Low distorted bass pulse]
They say he stalk the levees…
hide near the cypress trees…
wait outside shotgun houses when the moon too bright.
But the old stories leave somethin’ out.
[Thunder cracks violently]
The Rougaroux ain’t born a monster.
Nah…
he become one.
⸻
[Music grows darker]
Some say the curse come from breakin’ sacred rules.
Some say it come from greed.
Some say the beast pass from soul to soul…
like inherited sickness.
But my grandmère believed somethin’ else.
[Dogs barking wildly in distance]
She used to say:
“Cher…
the swamp only turn people
into what they already fightin’ inside.”
[Heartbeat drums begin]
Rage.
Hunger.
Loneliness.
Violence.
Survival.
The kind of pain that sit too long in a man chest
till his spirit start growlin’.
⸻
[Distorted Organ Enters]
Louisiana got all kinds of folklore.
Feu Follet lights in the marsh.
Vampire stories in New Orleans.
Ghost brides near the river.
Voodoo queens speakin’ to spirits.
But the Rougaroux different.
Because deep down…
everybody understand him.
[Breathing becomes heavier]
Every man know what it feel like
to become harder after pain.
Colder after betrayal.
Meaner after survival.
More animal than human
when life keep breakin’ your teeth.
⸻
[The Horror Deepens]
And that’s how the curse really start.
Not with a bite.
With isolation.
With untreated rage.
With nights so lonely
the swamp start soundin’ like home.
[Wolf howl nearby]
Then one night…
you stop fearin’ the beast.
Because the beast finally make sense.
⸻
[Final Build-Up]
[Heartbeat now pounding violently]
So if your temper been shorter lately…
if sleep don’t come easy no more…
if your thoughts feel darker when the moon full…
if dogs bark when you walk past…
if the swamp seem like it callin’ your name…
[Long pause]
Pray the curse ain’t already in you.
⸻
[Closing]
[Massive distorted 808 crash]
Bienvenue…
aux Rougaroux Tapes.
Welcome…
to the hunt.
