by Penn Cassidy
Instead, I wandered farther down the busy street in a daze, only stopping for a herd of partiers to pass in front of me, blowing on kazoos while some of them did cartwheels in the street or jumped all over each other drunkenly. People cheered along the sidewalks as they passed by, raising their drinks to the sky.
Sex, music, and the smell of spices were in the air, making my head spin, making me nostalgic for the days when I could indulge in the celebrations without feeling like I was being watched and judged by Austin.
I missed the days when my father was here. When he’d hoist me up onto his shoulders and run with me through the dense parades. I'd toss little wrapped candies out at the crowd, just as Legba wanted me to. Those days were so far away now, and I ached for them so badly that my eyes stung with tears.
These streets used to be my haven, my freedom. Now they were only a reminder of what I’d lost.
Austin hated everything about New Orleans, and it made me wonder why he was so content to stay here with me, even when his family still remained in California.
Sure, the firm here was doing well under his partnership, but why force himself to live in a city filled with everything and everyone he despised? Including me…
He hated my beliefs and my heritage. He hated the way my grandmother filled my head with her nonsense, as he liked to call it. Sometimes, he just called it the devil’s work.
Little did he know that the devil didn’t exist in my world. The devil was a concept. A vessel in which humans personified fear of what they did not understand. He was ignorant and hateful and unwilling to learn.
For a moment, my eyes unfocused and my vision went dark. I rocked to the side, staggering until I caught myself on a lamppost. My head felt too light and airy, and the taste of something metallic filled my mouth. It was coppery like blood.
The sudden sound of a scream echoed in my head, followed by a hollow thump. Then my heart was racing, and it was the only thing I could hear, even as I stood in the center of a loud parade. It was like listening to a car crash.
Whatever it was cut off the instant a kazoo blared in my right ear. The strange daydream dissolved, and I yelped, clutching my hands to my chest as two men wearing black and white striped oversized suit jackets whizzed by on the tops of two colorful unicycles. Sparks flew from the massive wheels as the men whirled in circles, while people laughed and cheered for them.
Dizziness made me sway. The need to find Austin was overwhelming and urgent. Something was wrong.
I staggered again, searching the colorful storefronts and late night pubs for his shiny blond hair or one of his business suits. I searched and searched for his familiar face, but nothing was making sense.
I reached the end of the street, where the crowd began to thin when it happened. It was as if someone had dipped my head into a pool of water. The noise died down, and time stood still.
A voice on the air, accompanied by that same slow music from earlier in my bedroom, was the only thing I could hear. It was so beautiful that my chest began to ache with need. It was haunting and somehow…familiar.
But what was it saying?
It was almost like there was somewhere I needed to be, but I couldn't remember where.
I spun and swayed, my dress starting to tangle around my feet. The noise of the celebration was coming in and out, silent one moment and loud the next.
I clutched my head when the pain came, doubling over with a shrill scream that was drowned out by the music.
My back hit the brick wall of a building behind me as my fingers dug into my hair, pulling until I was numb.
Something was wrong.
I could feel it.
Something was very, very wrong. I couldn't reign it in anymore. I had to let it out.
So I just…screamed.
The pain in my head was gone in an instant, but so was the city when my eyes flew open.
In its place was a chaotic cacophony of crickets chirping somewhere close by and dark, spindly branches overhead.
My long, chestnut hair tangled around my shoulders, tickling my cheeks, and water dripped into my eyes. Since it was March, the weather was just short of blazing, but it definitely wasn’t raining.
It took a minute to realize I was chest deep in murky water. My dress rippled out around me in the stagnant river, and my feet glided over nasty sludge.
Heart racing, I jolted forward, water sloshing around as I fell, nearly getting a mouthful of it. It wasn’t very cold, but it didn’t smell great and was full of sticks and floating Spanish moss.
Since it was dark, it didn’t matter if I couldn’t see through it, because I could barely see ten feet in front of my face. Despite the heat, there was a murky layer of fog floating over the glassy surface.
A sudden flurry of flapping wings had me ducking down, throwing my arms overhead, my feet sliding around in the riverbed and pitching me sideways. A shadow blotted out the moonlight as a group of bats swarmed the skies.
I knew where I was immediately, having been practically raised in this place. I was somewhere in the bayou of Louisiana, miles and miles away from my home in the Quarter.
But how the hell did I get here? One moment, I’d been standing at the end of Frenchman Street, and now here I was, in the swamps. I tried not to panic.
All around me were tall reeds that I could just barely see in the moonlight and fog, but deep in those reeds, I knew the gators were waiting.
The bayou was full of them, about fifty gators for every square mile of river if I remembered right. They were probably watching me right now, smelling me and chomping for a fresh meal to feed their young that were nesting there.
Along the banks of the swamp were billowy cypress trees, surrounded by brambles and thickets jutting out into the water in a gnarled disarray.
If I could get to them, I could probably hoist myself out of the water. Luckily for me, the swamps weren’t particularly deep and they didn’t move fast like other rivers did.
I stomped through the muck, wading past floating logs and wayward branches as my gaze swiveled back and forth, constantly watching for reptilian eyes.
Gators were notorious for being sneaky. They traveled silently and quickly enough that most people and animals were dead before they even knew what hit them.
The water began to shallow as I neared the reeds, grasping for them only for the stalks to break off in my grip, sending me back down into the sludge filled waters.
Cursing, I sunk deeper into the mud, choking on the foul taste of moss and rot. I was about to reach for a low hanging white oak branch that looked slightly decayed when I felt a rush of water brush my arm.
I froze, every single hair on my body standing on end in less than a heartbeat. The telltale swish of swamp water had dread setting in. Trying not to panic and spook the monster behind me, I allowed myself to glance over my shoulder.
It was a stupid idea.
Through the fog, I could see the ridges of a gator’s back as it swam by me. At first glance, I could tell it was a big one, probably a male. I didn’t move a muscle.
Every single warning they'd drilled into us in school flitted through my mind at once.
Always stay away from the water.
Never take a swim in the swamps.
Avoid the nesting patches.
Or if you do have to venture into their territory, always bring with you a tasty morsel more appetizing than yourself.
Barely breathing, I felt the tip of the gator’s maw nuzzle at my arm. The scales were smooth and bumpy at the same time, like pebbled glass. If I weren’t so afraid to make a sudden movement, I might have peed myself. But I had to hold it together.
Shutting my eyes tightly, I began to pray. I begged whomever was listening to keep me safe. I pleaded with my watchers to shield me from teeth and claws that would rip me open.
If I disappeared in these swamps, I knew I’d never be seen again. People didn't exactly send search parties out here. Well, not extensively. The gators would snatch an
ything up before you could blink.
I felt the entire length of its body rub along my arm. It was a long fucker too. Again, probably a male. Probably hunting for its young. Still, I just prayed and kept my eyes shut.
I had no idea of how long I stood there, chest deep in dark water, but eventually, the ripples shifted again, brushing against my torso. The gator swam in the opposite direction.
Cracking my eyes open wider, I watched it slither through the water, heading away quickly. In the distance, I heard shuffling, and as I peered through the thin layer of fog, I could see three baby hogs picking their way through the brush.
The gator was heading for them fast. There was no time for me to feel bad about the little piggies. This was my chance to escape.
I lunged for the bank of the swamp, grappling with sticks and thick mud. My strength was waning fast as I pulled myself upwards, trying to find a foothold.
The mud was slick and dense, but I managed to get myself out of the water with a few long, strong lunges. By the time I flung myself onto the riverbank, I was wheezing and shivering, despite the humid air.
I smelled like decay and probably looked like a corpse…but I wasn’t gator food. For now, at least.
I couldn’t stop, even though all I wanted to do was lie down in the mud and sleep. I was exhausted and knew there was no way I was going to be able to find my way back to the city tonight before I passed out from exhaustion.
So I searched for a safe place to hunker down for the night. Things tended to look more promising by the light of day, and maybe I’d even find someone with a boat. Lots of fishermen traveled these swamps daily, so I was bound to find someone eventually.
I just needed to get to high ground. Maybe a good, solid tree branch would do.
I stumbled through the mud and trees for the next hour, using only moonlight to guide my way. Every now and then, I stopped cold, swearing I’d heard a voice in the wind, and it always sounded like it was calling my name.
I shook it off as much as I could. I’d heard all kinds of stories about creatures that lurked in densely wooded areas who loved to mimic humans. They watched you, hunting you until you were weak enough to snatch.
I kept searching for a good place to huddle up for the night, but nothing looked even remotely safe or appealing. It was moss and sticks for miles around, hiding all kinds of who knows what.
It was after another half an hour at least when I saw it—a dull white light up ahead, flashing through the dense trees.
I might have thought it was the moonlight reflecting off of the water if not for the fact that it was too low and seemed to flit from spot to spot.
A sudden surge of adrenaline flooded through me at the prospect of finding something…anything man-made. Maybe it was a house or a trailer or even a boat. Anything would suffice at this point. I was desperate.
So I raced towards the flashing light, stumbling through the brush, falling repeatedly. A few times, my heart sank when the light disappeared, but as I kept heading in the same direction, I caught sight of it again.
I was just about to break through the mess of a downed white oak when I heard the music. That same haunting music I’d heard back in the Quarter. It was jarring enough to make me trip and catch myself on a low hanging branch. Either I really was losing my mind, or someone was out here.
Resolved but wary, I pushed through the trees, ending up in a bright shaft of moonlight, and skidded to a halt, the breath whooshing from my lungs as I dropped to my knees at what I saw in the darkness.
I could hardly believe my eyes.
I didn’t want to believe it.
Wake up, Mori… Just wake up!
A carnival.
An actual, real-life, dark, lonely carnival, with rides, booths, and little covered wagons perched on raised platforms above the swamp water.
It stood there like the jutting bones of something once grand and magnificent, making no logical sense, but there it was.
I spotted a small tollbooth. It was a red and white striped tent, the fabric faded and torn, with a small window in the front. Behind the countertop was what appeared to be a dusty fake skeleton sitting in a chair with a necklace of unlit Christmas lights draped around its neck.
There was nobody around, no line to get inside. I supposed that made sense, since it was the still dark hours of the early morning right now.
The lights were all off, bathing everything in shades of dull grey and moonlight.
As casually as I could manage, I left the safety of the trees and crossed underneath a tall metal archway that read,
‘Bienvenue à la maison.’
‘Welcome home.’
Ominous…
I grumbled unintelligibly under my breath. This was about as far from home as I could imagine at the moment. Still, I trudged on, feeling my bare feet squish through the wet earth, remnants of some distant, warm rain that had passed through not long ago.
My white dress swished around my ankles, and by now, the swampy water that had been soaked into it was starting to dry. I probably looked like a walking nightmare, and as soon as I ran into the nearest person, someone was bound to ask questions. It was just too bad I had no helpful answers to give.
The farther I got into the out of place carnival, the more I began to question my own sanity. There was nobody around, even as music played and the Ferris wheel spun around and around endlessly in the darkness. There wasn’t a single passenger, nor was there a ride operator.
Hell, there were even strings of cobwebs stretching across the steel beams, and rust spots were dotted everywhere. I was surprised and a little impressed that it was standing upright.
A chill trickled down my spine, raising the hairs on my arms and my neck. I couldn’t get past the sensation of someone watching me, waiting somewhere close by.
But there was nobody here, just an empty, desolate carnival that was begging to be torn down.
I’d never been to a carnival before, but I’d been to the circus once. When my dad was alive, he’d taken me to Chicago, and there had been a small traveling circus in town that I’d begged him to take me to.
I loved the acrobatics and the freak show, but not so much the clowns or the caged-up animals. But this…whatever this place was, it didn’t feel like that circus I held fondly in my memory. There was just something…not right about this place.
The music had a strange pitch and an odd cadence to it, and I had no idea where it was coming from since everything appeared to be long abandoned. It was traditional carnival music, but it was like the notes were too low, causing it to sound like the song had been slowed down on a record player.
It was scratchy and broken, making me grind my teeth uncomfortably. It wasn’t anywhere near as beautiful as that music I’d heard earlier in the night. But at least it wasn’t calling out my name.
I walked around the carnival grounds for what felt like an hour, searching through booth after booth of old, torn, and moth-eaten stuffed animals, prizes, games, and moldy, expired confections, but no people.
The colors of the striped tents were probably once vivid crimson and royal purple, but were now faded with time and the effects of the weather.
It was beautiful, objectively speaking of course. I could almost picture what it might have looked like lit up and shining brightly with wonder and secrets.
The longer I walked aimlessly, the more anxious I got. My chest felt tight and my head was cloudy. I looked up towards the starry sky, studying the swaying branches of the trees.
I tried to blink tears away, willing myself not to lose it. I had to think rationally about this.
I was a fucking Laveau, for shit’s sake. I came from a line of strong women, like my grandmother, and I refused to let this be what broke me. I’d dealt with far worse things than getting lost in the dark and had come out all right in the end.
Something soft brushed my ankle, and I stifled a yelp, jumping sideways. A pair of bright, pale blue, almost silver eyes blinked up at me.
It was a silky black cat dressed in a red and black striped bowtie with a small jeweled skull pendant in the very center. It was just sitting there, head tilted sideways and staring up at me with such a solemn expression that it was just shy of creepy.
Bending down slowly so as not to spook the little guy, I lightly patted his head. The cat dipped into my touch, and I felt the rumble of its purr against my palm. With its head angled, I could see the side of its collar, where there was a hint of red silken stitching that spelled out the name Lafayette in a scrawling script.
“Care to help a girl out, Lafayette?” I asked softly, scratching behind his little ear.
The cat let out a small, lazy meow, standing up on all fours and allowing my hand to slide along his back.
“You’re the only living soul around, so I really hope you can help me. What the hell is this place anyway?”
I wasn’t sure why I was trying to coax answers out of this cat, but at the moment, it seemed like the least weird thing to happen to me tonight.
Still, I had to admit that even though he was just a cat, it was comforting to not feel as alone as I had moments ago.
I petted him for a few seconds before he pushed against my palm one last time, then turned around and pranced in the opposite direction.
“Hey!” I called out to his retreating tail as it stuck straight up in the air. “You’re not leaving me stranded out here!”
I took off after him as quickly as I could manage on bare, aching feet.
Lafayette seemed to speed up, weaving back and forth around carts and small booths. It was like he was purposefully messing with me.
I managed to catch up eventually, figuring it couldn’t hurt to follow him. If he lived here, then that meant someone must live here with him, feeding him and keeping him clean. After all, he was wearing a bowtie, so how feral could he really be?
We crossed a wooden bridge over some murky swamp water with tall reeds sticking out from the black, glassy surface. On the other side was a large wooden building, square in shape and rimmed in blinking round lights, the only illumination for miles aside from the moon overhead.
