Bad Juju in the Swamps

Eerie events happening, which is why it's taken me so long to write a post. This steamy summer is shaping up to be a hot swirl of spookiness and danger.

I had been forced to go to church on this particular Sunday. The little wooden church building with its white-washed walls, is not air conditioned, just a couple of fans strategically placed. The preacher is a very round jowly bald man, with a pink sweaty face, who reminds me of a sunburned pig.

He has the most disturbing hands: they are dainty and soft, like a womans, and the nails are always manicured and shiny, and I swear he powders them. Anyway, he was spewing the usual mess of hell and sin and how we are living in the Last Days, and my hand was tired from waving the paper fan across my face; add to that a numb ass from the hard pew. I looked over at my mother, who still looked fresh and calm and pretty, barely even breaking a ladylike sweat (or "glow" as she calls sweat), and wished I could be as patient and good as she.

Finally, everyone rose for the last hymn, and with a quick murmur to my mother that I would see her at home, I was gone in a flash ( I was wise enough to drive in my own car!).

After shedding my church clothes for more natural shorts and tank, and a leisurely Sunday dinner of fried chicken, homemade biscuits, mashed potatoes and greens, followed by my mom's delicious peach cobbler, I set out for a walk around our property, with a joint tucked snugly into my pocket.

There are massive oak trees draped with Spanish moss, willow trees and pecan trees, and lovely Cypress trees near the bayou
There are still some old buildings and slave quarters left on the property; many of the buildings that used to house the mills and blacksmith quarters are gone, but this old plantation used to be its own citadel.

Supposedly, my great great great great great grandmother (not positive about the number of greats) learned some voodoo from many of the slaves when she was a girl, and she passed her stories and knowledge down to her daughter, and she passed it to hers, and so on and so on.

I walked about a mile from my home to an abandoned Cajun-style cabin that's been empty for as long as I can remember, and would be very pretty if someone would restore. I marveled at the outside stairs, and wide front porch, as I always do, and sat on the front porch. I was just about to light up, when I had a strong urge to go into the house.

It was oppressively hot; the walls had stored up the years of heat. I realized I had been in a daze, and as I stood there with sweat pouring out of me, soaking my clothes, it dawned on me that I had been led here. It happens to me sometimes: I will sort of "trance out", and it's as if some other part of me has taken over and in control.

Whenever this happens, it means I'm about to see some vision or premonition, but this time I knew I was coming upon something I didn't want to see, not "see" in my mind, but see with my eyes. But I was helpless to stop and run away; I had to look.

I saw evidence that people had been squatting here: dusty liquor bottles scattered about, a chewed-up smelly blanket crumpled up in the corner of the front room, and an lone stained sock.

I glided into the back room, which was probably the master bedroom once upon a time. The smell was cloying, a smell detected by my mind more so than my nose; it was a dead body. I stared, terrified and exilerated at the same time, sweat trickling from my stomach down to my legs, and my hair was plastered to my skull with moisture, like I had been swimming.

There was no way to tell if the mutilated body was a male or female, but I knew it was a woman, and that she had been murdered.

I wondered if I knelt down next to her and touched her, if perhaps I would get a sense of who she was. But better not to touch her; if my fingerprints were to show up, they would wonder what kind of person would want to touch a dead body.

I turned and ran out of the house, mostly because I was afraid I would melt into a pile of goop if I stayed inside that house any longer.

I dug my cell phone out of my pocket, and called the police. I thought about going to a pay phone and making an anonymous call, so I wouldn't have to answer questions. But, I wanted to know who the woman was, and why I had been led to her.

I told the operator I would be at my house waiting for them, and so I walked back to tell my family what was about to happen, because the house was so close to our property, they would hear and see the cops roll by our home. Plus, it's such a small town, everyone would know by nightfall that I had found a dead body in an abandoned Cajun house

I hid the joint in my room, and told my parents what had happened. There were a lot of questions and gasps and exclamations;I grabbed an ice-cold beer from my dad's cooler, sat on the porch and waited for all hell to break loose.

More later...

Home for the summer

I just graduated from college, so let the summer officially start!

Arrived home today, and I swear when I drove up our old dirt and gravel driveway (I won't let Daddy pave it) I felt like my heart was gonna swell and burst with excitement.

I've been away at college in another state for 4 years, coming back for the summer in between when I could, so I really missed my home, and I even missed my sleepy little parish.

My family has a huge old antebellum home; it's been in our family since before the Civil War, and it's the most beautiful place on earth. There are big white columns, deep galleries, huge windows that span from the ceiling to the floors, and lots of antiques and ornate furnishings, and a breathtaking elliptical staircase, which winds up three floors.
Surrounding the house is a large expanse of lush green farmland, and the placid beauty of the swamp.

As soon as I got home, I slung my bags on the floor, took a cool shower, and slid under the soft sheets for a glorious nap. I miss my bed when I'm gone; it's a huge antique four-poster bed, with a thick down filled mattress. I almost need a ladder to reach it, but it's like sleeping on a pile of clouds. Before I fell asleep, I wondered if my diploma would arrive soon; it's nice to have that written documentation of your Bachelor's degree on your wall!

My mother called me to supper a couple hours later, and I glided down the steps, breathing the delicious smells of juicy meats and sweet cornbread. My two brothers were there, so it was nice to have the whole family together for supper.

I sat on the porch watching the sun set, and listening to the night sounds, and decide to take a drive to a little bar a few miles away.

I put on a tank top and a light silky skirt that hit the tops of my knees, and paired these with my favorite battered Frye boots. With the windows rolled down and the radio blasting, I put a beer between my legs, relishing the way the ice-cold bottle felt against my hot thighs.

It was a popular haunt for the locals; a dirt parking lot with lots of big trucks with those huge lights on the hoods. The music was loud and thumping, balls smacked and clicked off each other on the pool tables, and a thick blue-white layer of smoke hovered over the bar.

As soon as I sat down and ordered a beer, James came over and sat next to me. He's a boy I went to school with, and as we sipped our beers, I wondered if he had always been so cute. He was wearing jeans, a tee-shirt, and a ball cap. And he was muscled and fit from working on a road crew, or something.

I wondered if I'd just been surrounded by pale pseudo-intellectual Yankees too long, because he looked so yummy.

We ended up on a secluded spot on my property at about 1 am. Under the bright moon, naked in the humid air, the grass was dewy and soft, and it was so sexy; just being naked under the stars and the night sky, surrounded by grass and trees and the sounds of the bayou creatures.
It was okay: I had to coach him on a few things. I had to show him how to gently use his fingers, and once he slipped inside me, I gripped him with my legs, and whispered in his ear to do it hard and fast, which was what I wanted that night.

I dressed and told him to go, saying I had to get up early. As soon as he was gone I crept inside the house and slipped quietly into my house. I had to shower and visualize washing off Jame's "energy" or essence or whatever, because I could feel how much he used to like me, and his resentment for me as well.

It's hard for me to be around people, because I have an ability that makes me hyper aware of everyone's feelings and thoughts--their"vibes"I guess. I only recently read that a person who has this ability is called an Empath. I have to be careful to keep a "bubble" up around myself, otherwise the person's thoughts and feelings will transfer to me, and many times that's very bad for me. But, I can read people so well that I can absorb their energies and makes them do my bidding. Also, I can see things that are going to happen in my dreams. I suppose I inherited it; my mother has a touch of it, but she says her mother was a psychic as well as a medium, and her mother's mother, and so on, hallelujah.

That's right, I come from a long line of psychics and dabblers in witchcraft.

It's going to be a fun summer.