Transit

TRANSIT

Winter had stripped the cottonwoods and fog hung from skeletal limbs like Spanish moss. The only sounds came from water slapping against the boat's hull as they floated across the inky bayou.

"Are we there yet?" Joel's voice sounded muffled.

The boat rocked as the guide pointed. The ghostly outlines of a house formed in the mist.

"Momma Lupa."

Those terse words sent a chill down Joel's back. Rumors of this voodoo priestess's powers had led him to this point. His soon to be ex-wife was fighting him in settling the divorce. "This is the desperate act of a desperate man," he muttered.

He climbed up a short, rickety ladder and faced a door covered in faded arcane symbols. "Hello ..."

The door seemed to open on its own. As he entered, he couldn't keep from coughing at the decaying odor in the air. A laugh stopped him in his tracks.

"So," a voice began. "You need help from Momma Lupa. I see your troubles. She is difficult and ... " The voice paused, "very greedy!"

Joel nodded in agreement. "I need ..." he began but was cut off.

"Momma Lupa knows what you need."

A match flared, then a candle, and Joel could see the crone in the shifting light. Her eyes seemed to capture his.

"Yes, Momma Lupa knows," she muttered. "She has power over you. You still love her ... she has your heart, she has your soul."

The words didn't make sense to Joel. All he could think about were the eyes. He felt the room begin to fade around him.

Pain brought Joel back. He found himself lying bound on a bed.

Horror filled him as a knife gleamed in the flickering light.

The last thing Joel heard was "Do not fear. Momma Lupa will remove her power over you!"


Notes:
An entry for the 1/12/11 round of "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge"  [13+]
Prompt: Write a story that includes the phrase: "Are we there yet?"
Word Limit: 300
Word Count: 300

Thank you for taking the time to read my story. Please, as long as you're here, leave a comment. Criticisms, thoughts, reactions, yes – even praise – are all equally welcome

Ken