For I Am The One With All The Stories

Cypress trees fringed with Spanish moss towered over the narrow road weaving into the bayou. Their shadows crept over Xavier's Laguna Blue Corvette as their nobbled knees rose from the murky water.

He turned onto a dirt path and parked near the water's edge. Xavier debated waiting in the car. But he'd been told she wouldn't come if she didn't see you, and her eyesight was failing.

His steps squelched into the mossy ground, and he wished he'd brought waders and maybe a four-wheel drive instead of the sports car. He leaned against its hood as the sun sank between the spidery branches.

An hour past dark, cicadas started screaming, tree frogs fretted, and a trio of bullfrogs joined in to belch out a sort of feral jazz. Xavier considered retrieving his trumpet and joining in to pass the time when a ripple ran through the moonlit waters. He searched for an alligator but instead found a golden light approaching. As he strained to make form from the shadows, a crooked wooden dock bumped into the marshy ground at his feet. A bent woman tottered toward him carrying a lantern.    

Xavier cleared his throat. "Good evening, Ma'am. I've been told you have a story for me."

Nodding, she motioned for him to follow. He stepped lightly over the rickety planks as the island broke free and floated into the shadows of the bayou.

"I expect it'll take a while," she chuckled, "for I am the one with all the stories."

Manipulated Photo | Original by Emre Keskinol