so chris taylor can think he's demanding

"Blood Bayou" pt 2

After this night, all will be changed.

Her words lingered in my ear. I didn't want to think much about this night or what she meant by that statement. My thoughts begin to trail back two nights before this...

I'm in the bar, sitting there with a half-emptied pint in my hand. I sip it slowly, not in any rush to return home because, honestly, there's nothing left for me to go home to. My thumb idly brushes against the handle as I let my thoughts sink into the deep, amber liquid inside.

"Got somehtin' on yer min' der, eh James?" The bartender says but I don't hear him.

"I say, James, it ain't gonna drink i'self wit ya jus starin!" he muses, a bit louder this time so that not only I hear him but the two men sitting on either side of me turn their heads in attention as well.

"Oh, uhm, sorry Domino." I take a big gulp, grimacing as the liquid burns its way down my throat. "Better?"

Domino fixes his mouth to make what I can only imagine is a smartass comment when his attention shifts to the door. A hush has fallen over the bar and all the patrons have their heads turned towards the door as well now.

I follow suit and find myself staring at a very strange individual. He stumbles in, a noticeable gait in his stride, hobbles over to the end of the bar and motions for Domino to poor him a drink. He nods. The place is silent... save the sound of the stranger's drink whishing into his cup. Those that seem to know him watch the bar with a suspicious glare. Those that don't fear him all the same.

I was no exception.

My mind is racing with inquisitions. But I know better than to voice them now. Slowly, the other patrons begin whispering, murmuring, muttering until the place is filled with conversation and laughter once more. A few people still side-eye the stranger as he drinks in solidarity but there is no interaction.

When Domino comes to refill my drink, I give a slight inclination of my head towards the end of the bar as if to say What's this about?

He shakes his head. You don't want to know.

Fine. I shrug.

Two refills later, drunken light-headedness begins to set in. The bar becomes a blur of dim light and sound. Now, I am ready to go home. I drop some money on the counter (probably much more than the cost of my drinks now that I think about it)and make my way out of the bar. Everything is spinning. I feel sick. A cool sensation graces my face. I'm laying on the gravel.

The sound of approaching footsteps grows louder. "You're much sadder than I thought." A voice says.

A shadowy silhouette is all I'm able make out. I say nothing. I just want to lay in the street and wait for death.

"James Bordeaux..."

"How do you know my name?"

"I know much more than that."

Then, he begins telling me of a way I can solve all my problems. He describes a woman like no other; a woman who could help me. My interests are peaked. "Where can I find her?"

He gives me the directions. Of sorts. I am to venture into the deepest parts of the bayou. Not many men dare to travel in the bayou since the disappearances and bodies turning up on the banks. Still, I listen to the man standing over me until he says he must leave. As he walks away, I notice his walk is not sturdy. Before I can stand and chase after him, he's gone.

And so I'm here, staring at Madame LaFleur...

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.

because I hate it when Aaron's disappointed with me

"Blood Bayou"

The bayou was thick with fog that night; an impassible, opaque, blanketing fog that warned all trespassers to turn back immediately. Stillness surrounded the area as far as the eye could see. Nothing moved. Nothing breathed. Nothing lived. Save for the singing cicadas, the whining mosquitoes, and myself. The splish of my paddle sounded like gunfire against the dark waters. Each row echoed a thousand times over, as if the cypress trees were marking my every move; calling and answering to each other with each pass of my paddle. Yet, I continued on.

He said to keep going until I felt unwelcomed and uncomfortable. When I felt scared, I should paddle fifty more paces. And when I wanted to turn back, I should paddle ten. There I would find her, he said.

A low, guttural moan wavered on the wind. I stopped to listen for the source. With a shaky hand, I continued on. Forty-seven paces later, the moaning grew louder. It was a chilling wail that could only come from someone in a great deal of pain or distress. I swallowed hard, knowing I still had ten paces to go.

The cries grew louder, resonating through the bayou. It sounded as if it were coming from all directions. I craned my neck to see only darkness. I crossed myself as I glided deeper into the Devil’s playground, praying that God hadn’t abandoned me. I hoped the All Mighty would forgive me for the sins I would commit this night.

She was everything the whispers rumored: beautiful, enchanting, and haunting. She stared at me with deep, hollow eyes that bore into my soul. Her gaze fixed on mine and I found myself quickly entranced by her. I dared not move nor speak.

“You are very brave to come here alone,” she said. Her voice was surprisingly sweet for someone of her reputation. She almost sang the words through a gentle smile. But I tried not to allow myself to be swayed by her sly grin. She stood there, frozen, waiting on my reply. My eyes traveled down her slender figure, noticing her breasts; how they didn’t rise and fall to any rhythm, yet stayed there perched just beneath her neck. She wasn’t breathing.

After a moment of steadying my voice, I called back to her. “I seek Madame LaFleur. I am told--,”

“I know why you are here, James.”

Something deep within my spirit stirred at the sound of my name dripping from her lips.

“What must I do?”

She threw her head back and laughed with a vibrancy that shook the bayou. She extended her arm, beckoning me to her with a wave of her finger. “Come with me, dear James. After this night, all will be changed.”

.:~o*’Kaylyn’*o~:.

Unfinished Business

I want to complete something. Anything. Just take a story through a complete arc with an exposition, climax, and resolution. Just to present a character and have my reader(s) follow them through their journey, discovering more about that character with each step. Is that so hard to ask?!!

Well, considering the author, yes.

I've never finished any story. Ever. Oh sure, I've started a few... but they never really close. Sure, I have some ultra short, 2-3 pagers that I've completed but that's more of a newer thing.

I never finish anything. I know this. After 19 years, I should know this. But it's not for lack of wanting. I just... don't. Could it be some inner insecurities about having my writing judged so I protect myself by never finishing, shielding everything from the public eye? Or maybe I'm just a future suit-wearing, pencil-pusher who naively believed through her teenage and young adult years that she was creative or special in any way. I dunno.

I also don't know why I keep setting myself up for failure. NaNo. Script Frenzy (which page's count is currently 0/100 with 18 days to go). Collaborations with friends. Gaia.

Fail after fail after fail... And yet I keep writing.

Maybe I'm just impatient. Maybe I just haven't given myself enough time. Or, rather, devoted enough time to one project. I always get distracted or intrigued by a new idea and abandon a project I've labored over for weeks for a shiny new one. I get distracted very easily. Rome wasn't built in a day. Some novels take years to complete. And that's with writing everyday!

I must be crazy. But, hey, aren't the most interesting writers always?

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.