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The sisters watched wide eyed as a woman fell to the ground and became a serpent… as another transformed into a growling panther…
They never forgot that wonderful night. Years later, Simone dismissed it as imaginary, “just moonlight and drums,” she’d scoffed. But Michelle knew better.
The couple spotted her, still leaning against the tree and smiled. She glared back. You don’t belong here!
They coming Cherie, you best make ready. It was her grandmere’s voice, speaking as if she was
standing right beside her. The girl froze whipping her head around. But there was no one
.The couple climbed the steps, unlocked the door and walked inside. Papa gave them keys? They can’t have bought it so soon!
I don’t want no strangers in my house, non.
Michelle bit her lip hard. Be quiet now! You’re not real!
A moment later, the woman, elegant and dark hairedpushed the screen open and stepped out on the porch, looking at her. She gazed at Michelle slyly and for a moment, she felt as if the woman were looking right through her with her gray eyes – as if sheknew her secrets, her pain. She smiled widely revealing fangs, and licked her lips. Michelle eyes widened, she was frozen to the spot, held captive by the woman’s strange eyes, as she moved slowly toward her.
Run Cherie!
Angelique’s voice broke the spell. Michelle backed away, turned and ran to her car. With shaking hands, she unlocked the door of her Honda and got inside. She glanced back at the porch, and there was no one there.
Shock, that’s what it is. So much has happened. And we were lucky —
Luckier than those trapped for weeks after Katrina in that damned super dome, and those shelters.
Michelle drove to the New Orleans business district parked and caught a streetcar into the French Quarter. On Bourbon street, the carnival streamed past: monsters, Zulu stilt dancers, Vikings… She kept an eye out for Cindy and Greg. They recently moved to Louisiana and they were all quiver about seeing their first Mardi Gras.
“Michelle…!” to her left, Greg and Cindy grinned and waved making their way through the crowd, as a man brushed past her.
She spun her head to the right, her greeting dying on lips. She stared as the old man, his skin the color of midnight, used his twisted cane to propel himself to corner.
Previously published in Genesis Science Fiction Magazine 2010
Cover art and design by Quinton Veal
Copyright 2010, 2012 Valjeanne Jeffers all rights reserved
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