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~:.