Bayou
- Holly Mac
- Jul 1, 2018
- 5 min read
(My own artwork for my Bayou series)
Part One
She noticed how, in the pool, next to those pale underwater lights, her skin turned to goosebumps and the hairs on her arms and legs turned white. She was put in mind of an axolotl when she looked at her hands, which seemed translucent at the fingertips. Her body began to separate out in the water, the hairs on her arm looked like they'd caught motes of dust and abruptly she was more aware than she'd ever been that she was entirely made up of atoms.
A plaster bobbed up and landed on her lips. She tried not to let it ruin her time in the water but a few minutes later she was hanging off the pool ladder, feeling the heavy weight of gravity reclaim her and pull her matter back together.
She sat on the bus home attempting to catch the eye of a beautiful Maine Coon cat who peered out from behind the legs of its owner. The girl was around the same age as her, wearing layers of woolen ponchos so that she was a mosaic of colour. She looked like the sort of person who wouldn't settle for a pet you'd typically come across on public transport.
They both got off at the same stop but were destined to head in different directions from the bus shelter. The cat looked back at her quarter of the way up the street.
"I knew you saw me!" She muttered, making a sign that let him know she had her eye on him, then going on her way.
She felt the hairs on the back of her neck electrify as she approached her front door, her feet began to itch and her socks slid down a little bit, as they always did when she arrived home. This was because the house was very much inhabited, being that none of the residents had left for the last few hundred years or so.
Her arms quivered as she yanked open the heavy fridge door, a dozen or so spirits rushed out.
"Welcome home Bayou!" They greeted her, blowing out chilly fridge air along with the sentiment.
"Guys, seriously! I'm getting sick of you hanging out in the fridge. You better not have curdled the milk again." She inspected the carton and then poured herself a glass.
"Many apologies!" They chimed
"You always say that and yet, I always have to come home to off milk."
"Um... 'hanging out' isn't really the right term." Occasionally, especially after being somewhere cold, the ghosts wouldn't appear fully formed, Bayou could tell by the voice however, it was Edwin, who had been a soldier in World War II, the stash of letters he'd written from the trenches to his young fiancé were still hidden in a hole in the wall. Unfortunately, he'd come back to the home they'd bought together to find nothing but an apology note explaining he'd taken too long to return. He claimed to have died of a broken heart.
"What?" She asked wiping milk from her upper lip and throwing what was left into the sink, sour, again.
"You're being politically incorrect!" Added Margie, a middle-aged lady from the 1920s who was forever losing her transparent belongings around the house.
Bayou didn't approve of the newer ghosts teaching the more mature ones new terms like 'politically incorrect,' they nearly always used them in the wrong context and usually became an imposition to her in some way.
"Ghosts don't 'hang out' we haunt." Margie insisted
"If you're after something to, excuse me, haunt, use the pickle jar on the top shelf."
"Yes Bayou!" Their fading voices promised as she swung the fridge door shut again, she rolled her eyes and went to sit on the front steps to drink the milk she'd secretly bought on the way home.
At that very moment the girl from the bus walked slowly past. She stopped and looked directly up at the doorstep Bayou was perched on.
"Your house is full of ghosts!" She yelled up unexpectedly
"I know!" Bayou called back, after a few heartbeats.
"Oh!" The girl began to fiddle with the gate latch, Bayou stood up, the balancing scale of her fight or flight response was slightly tipped towards curiosity, so she waited to see what would happen.
The girl strolled up the path, reached deep into her pocket and dropped three stones into Bayous hand.
"Um, if you're having problems with mold, use the Amethyst, if they're haunting the bread bin or such- oh wait! I should have given you the Tigers Eye first, that one's good for expanding your horizon, the other stones might be more receptive to your needs that way..."
Bayou looked at her blankly.
"Opalescent is manmade so that could have an effect on its potency, depending on how nature-centered you are. I recommend charging this one by water, sunlight will be best for the Tiger stone and perhaps just use some salt to cleanse the Amethyst."
"How does charging a rock work?"
"For example, name something you do that makes you feel refreshed."
"Sleeping?"
"No! Something you do."
"...Swimming, I suppose."
"Well then, your element is probably water."
The girl went away but left behind a lot for Bayou to ponder on.
Bayou sat outside at the same time every day for a week, when that didn't work she tried waking up when the sun was low in the sky, staying out until she almost couldn't make out the pavement. A month passed by but not once did the girl.
Bayou floated in the bathtub feeling sad the swimming pool closed early on sundays, her eyes shut, her arms moving like windmills catching a summer breeze. She pretended she was floating through space, it was a void, all she could hear were the sounds of her body, her heart and her lungs.
"Hello?" She tried. Not speaking aloud but letting her thoughts go out into the universe her closed eyes had created.
Nothing.
Nothing.
"Want me to come over?" It was like someone had swum up next to her and spoken right by her ear, her eyes snapped open and the starry sky and whatever psychic telephone they'd used to communicate were gone.
Bayou emerged through the front door, wearing a dressing gown and flip flops, absentmindedly rubbing her hair with a worn pink towel, to see a familiar Wicca sitting on the steps.
They sat in companionable silence for a while, watching an elderly neighbor rake the autumn leaves off his lawn.
"My name is Eli, by the way, if we're going to be friends I thought you might like to know." she routed around her bag and pulled out a loaf of bread, passing it to Bayou "It's rye! used to play havoc in my bread bin, did my ghosts. Keep it hidden"
Bayou smiled but politely refused the bread "Mine like the milk carton. You said used to? have they stopped haunting you? I didn't think that was possible"
Eli put the bread away with a great deal of rustling and stood up, swinging her bag over her shoulder "I'll remember that for next time- about the milk."
"Are you leaving already?" Bayou asked, unable to hide her dissapointment
"Yup. Better start getting some things together."
"For what?" asked Bayou
"Helping you get rid of your ghosts of course!"
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