Home Sweet Home (part two)

Cecile, from "The Corpse Reader", reappears as life goes on in the spooky Bayou Teche.

These days Cecile feels like she can take deep breaths of cleansing air. For the longest time her only goal in life was helping the local authorities in Louisiana solve crimes. Her gift of prophecy, according to Brother Watkins, was being able to "see" crime scenes as they had happened. She had picked both white, brown, and black suspects from photos. A Creole woman, a mixture of African and French heritage, Cecile lived with a constant fear of retaliation due to prisoner's family members or racism. In her early twenties, this helpful gift was taking a huge toll on her life. She felt like she could be the next corpse.

Well, that was her past. Now she found her favorite resting rock and sat down by the blue black bayou. The light was beginning to fade from the deep lavender skies. It was a beautiful evening. Her ankles were swollen so a short break on the way back home was called for. Her man, Armand, would be waiting with strong arms to shelter her. His deep sexy laugh was always comforting.

“Cherie, my arms cannot reach around your belly much longer. When will I see my son or daughter?”

It wouldn’t be much longer before the birth of their little miracle she carried. Although she had inherited this gift of vision or prophecy, it was fleeting. She was only guessing it would be a boy because of the ole Cajun midwife, Francine, and her ancient ways of predicting the sex of a child by spinning a wedding ring. It was a relief to be like any normal pregnant woman.

She struggled to her feet and began walking again. Shopping in town was something Armand had been doing these days after work at JAX's Brewery. Today had been warm but the humidity wasn't unbearable. Cecile had cabin fever so she had gone to buy fresh meat at the grocery. They grew most of what they needed; vegetables, fruits, herbs and hunted for wildlife. She had also stopped by a friend of her late mother's to visit. The lovely older lady, Suzette, had sent her home with skeins of pastel soft yarn and cotton material with tiny animals to make sweet clothing. Hers was a wondrous life and she was thankful for it.

Not much further to go now. Suddenly, a gator slid into the bayou right in front of her. Bad luck to have that happen. She quickly made the sign of the cross. It was part of life around them, ole fella must have been sunning himself. The gators and snakes frightened strangers but she had gotten used to them. Still, she always carried a knife, just in case. She had discovered if you didn't bother the creatures, they didn't trouble you. One had to be careful of poisonous snakes though. Actually it was humans she feared more than animals. She had seen the awful things people can do to each other up close.

It really was like a perfect painting here in the wildness of the bayou . The cypress trees and Spanish moss are splendid as long you are aware of the dangers hidden from sight. Having a john boat now was a big help but she had wanted to walk today and it was healthy for her.

Suddenly, Cecile was overwhelmed with a premonition of something evil close by. She wanted to run towards home and safety but that was the direction this frightful feeling seemed to be coming from. It reminded her of when she used to get close to a body. She told herself she was being ridiculous, it was the hormones spiking from her pregnancy.

The last two years had been so wonderful. In 1965, Armand had entered her life out of the blue. They had met at the small gas station and grocery by the bayou. He was beautiful, like Sidney Poitier, with a firm muscular build, gentle touch and deep voice. She felt an immediate connection, like electricity, between the two of them. His warm laughing eyes met hers and as he smiled, she melted. He was darker than her but had a French accent as he introduced himself. Within a couple of months, he had moved in with her, sharing his generous salary, a new boat and lovemaking that consumed them both. It was magical, her grand-mere would have approved of the charming Armand. Now, they were going to have a love child.

She saw a strange light coming from their cabin, maybe Armand had a flashlight or had changed the outside bulb. She slowly walked toward the front door. There was something glowing on the door, a symbol of some kind.

"Armand! Armand, where are you? You're scaring me!" He must hear the fear in her voice.

Frightened, running forward, she stumbled over loose rocks and fell. Her parcels with the pretty yarn and baby material scattered over the muddy ground.

Then, she felt a change. The light seemed to be drawing her toward it. She appeared to have lost control over deciding what to do.

She got to her feet, instinctively putting her hands over the baby bump and advanced. The door opened slowly, but she didn't see Armand. She tried to say something but no sound came out. All around her was a deathly silence.

A supernatural force now lifted her feet off the ground. It was propelling her into the usually cozy cabin. All was dark except for a golden halo shining around a baby bassinet draped in black silk cloth. A silver Celtic cross hung upside down over it. It gleamed, like a polished stainless steel knife.

The last thing Cecile heard was a door slam. Then she was flung down to a fiery hot floor, consumed by horrible cramps.

By Kathie Stehr
10/2/2020