Jillian Chantal

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt, lamp. I am working on the Halloween plantation story.

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“You got that right,” Monte said.

I stepped carefully onto the porch and, avoiding the holes I could see, made it almost to the door without a mishap. Except it was pretty dark the closer I got to the entryway. I had a flashlight but it had dimmed significantly since we’d gotten out of the car. Almost as if something was draining the batteries.

A crunching sound under my left foot brought me to an abrupt halt.

Jacques bumped into me. “What the hell, Annika? You can’t just stop mid-stride like that.”

“Watch me. It was either that or lose a foot in this hole that opened up under me.”

“Good grief. Be careful. Why aren’t you pointing your flashlight down to avoid the hazards?”

I shook my light. The batteries rattled around. “It’s dead.”

“I thought you said you put in new batteries before we left New Orleans,” Monte said.

“I did. Size Ds even. They aren’t cheap either. I’m pretty peeved they’re already dead.”

“Let’s get inside. Then we can light that kerosene lamp I brought. Step gently aside and let me shine my flashlight to lead the way.” Jacques turned his on just as another screech rent the air.

“I swear that’s a damn panther. Let’s get inside. People are afraid of ghosts but I’m afraid of big cats.” Monte put his hand on my back. “Move it, Annika.”

“Careful. I don’t want to leave part of my leg out here. Or lose my sneaker in this rotten piece of wood.”

“That panther might decide your whole body is a tasty snack.” Monte pulled me toward the door. “Let’s go.”

Jacques turned the knob. “It’s definitely dark in here. No electric is on.”

“How did they refinish the floors you said were done in the parlors if they didn’t have electricity?” I asked.

“Generators. But they don’t leave them out here when they aren’t working.”

“Huh. You’d think your friend would’ve arranged for us to borrow one,” Monte said.

“He offered but I said no. I wanted to experience the place as it was when the slave revolt took place. Remember, I’m researching this for a book. Publish or perish is the mantra us university professors must live by.”

“That’s all well and good, my friend, but nowhere in that mantra does it say you have to sit in the dark on the edge of a creepy swamp with gators and panthers wanting to make you their prey.”

“Don’t forget the ghosts, Monte. It’s like the lions, tigers and bears from the Wizard of Oz except it’s gators, panthers and ghosties, oh my,” I said.

“Very funny, Annika. How ‘bout you go outside and call for the critters? See how fast you run to safety.” Monte crossed his arms and scowled at me.

This week the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt, wood. I am in the midst of edits on my fall release so I started on a new story at lunch today (Aug 7) to get something up for the week. This is going to be a Halloween story. Or I think it is. LOL

Check out the other tales here.

My friends and I stood outside the remains of the Andry Plantation near the Mississippi River and west of New Orleans, Louisiana. This was the site of a slave uprising in 1811 and we were here to stay overnight on a dare. My friend, Jacques, is a professor at Tulane as well as a descendant of one of the slaves who was part of the revolt. They’d planned to march to New Orleans and start an independent republic for their people.

Ultimately, they were unsuccessful and captured or killed.

At the university, Jacques met the people who’d recently purchased the property to restore and, in the course of his discussion with them about how they would restore the plantation while also being sensitive to the historical context, they had extended him an invitation to come stay.

Upon being informed about certain eerie occurrences, Jacques decided he didn’t want to come alone so he invited me and another friend, Monty. Or, truth be known, he dared us to come. Double-dog dared even.

The three of us stood at the bottom of the short stairs leading to the porch. “Who’s going first?” Monte asked.

I studied the wood floor of the porch. It had more holes than it had planks. “I’ll lead the way but be careful. I worry about the state of that veranda. One wrong step, and your leg will go in one of those holes. We sure don’t want any broken bones.” I paused. “It concerns me about the inside of the house, too. I mean, if the porch is this bad, what’s the interior like?”

“I’ve been assured that the two drawing rooms are in excellent shape. At least the floors are. They’ve already been restored.” Jacques nodded. “Besides, the outside will be less pristine as it’s been exposed to the elements more than the inside.”

Monty looked up at the roof. “Some of it anyway. Looks like some natural air conditioning there in some spots.”

An eerie howl in the woods startled us all. My heart rate increased noticeably. “Whatever that is, I don’t want to be out here waiting for it to come claim me.”

“Nonsense. It’s probably just a panther,” Monty said.

“Just a panther?” Jacques asked. “That’s bad enough.”

The sound came again. Closer this time.

It was too dark out here for my comfort even with the half-moon hanging over the house. “Let’s get inside.”

“What happened to being worried about holes in the floor?” Jacques asked.

“The known is safer than the unknown.”

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt cold. I am finishing up the book of short stories to come out this fall. This will be the last post (maybe) of this anthology. This is the story with the PR heroine who is trying to transform a hotel.

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Excited to finalize the plans for the photo shoot, I made some calls and was able to land one of my favorite photographers for the next day as he’d had a cancellation.

This made me even more excited. Couldn’t ask for a better omen than Gregory being idle and available. He was the perfect choice. His use of light was absolute genius. Perfect.

The afternoon and evening went by quickly as I worked on the website leaving spots to insert the anticipated photos. I met with each of the maids to discuss what they envisioned for their page on the website and what they suggested for props for their part. It was a nice collaboration and I was happy with everyone’s input. The only one who didn’t meet with me was Tricia. She still seemed a bit cold toward me and I was determined not to let it bother me.

Even Miguel seemed on board for the whole thing. I wasn’t sure if one of the family had discussed with him the necessity of cooperating but I was glad he no longer seemed angry as he had during the meeting. Turns out, he actually was a certified dive instructor and so was Lacey. They’d both team up for those lessons.

I had a chicken salad sandwich for dinner as I worked at the desk in my room. I almost went down to the restaurant but decided to get as much done as I could before the photo shoot since I didn’t want to give Mr. Matthews a chance to change his mind. Slotting in the photos to completed web pages was the best way to go live quickly and see if bookings went up. Please let that happen. Please.

The next morning, after staying up way too late, I was almost ready with the website.

Downstairs, I ran into a few of the maids dressed in their jeans and khaki colored shirts. They had the bandannas knotted at their throats. They looked super cute.

My stomach was in knots though. This was nothing new. I was always like this before things started moving. I’d be fine as soon as Gregory arrived and got started.

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt anxious. I am still in my sotry where the main character is a PR person. She is making a presentation to a client.

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“What makes you think anyone would pay to come to this hotel to learn to arrange flowers?” Mr. Matthews asked.

More anxious now since it seemed I wasn’t getting through to anyone at this meeting, I took a deep breath to settle my nerves before I replied. “Yes, I absolutely think so. My thought is we do a page on the website for each of the weekend or week long classes you decide to offer. On the page for that particular activity, you’d post some of the best work so people can see exactly what they’re paying to learn. For example, when I spoke to each of the housekeeping staff you have, I learned that both Riya and Abby have dance backgrounds. They could offer ballroom dancing.” Warming to my ideas, I smiled. “I know a lot of couples where one of them likes to dance and the other is too shy or embarrassed because they don’t know how. You could even add in lessons for local residents who aren’t needing to stay at the hotel but might want to learn. It would be a way to earn extra revenue.”

Mrs. Matthews smiled back. “My husband and I have the same problem. He’s not a dancer. But how do we know the staff will be willing to perform these extra duties?”

Okay maybe I have one person on board. Time to ramp up the presentation. “I know Abby is interested. She was a Rockette. She hurt her knee and misses that part of her life greatly. Offering the employees a percentage of the class fees would also go far in motivating them to help get more participants.”

“If she left the Rockettes because she was injured, won’t my liability be higher if I hire a lady who has a bad knee?”

Before I’m could answer Mr. Matthews, Lacey said, “Granddad, doing the cha-cha and waltzing are nothing like being a high kicking Rockette. I also happen to know Marilyn knows how to Irish dance. That might be fun to learn.”

“What about Tricia? What could she teach? If you talked to everyone, what’s her talent?” Miguel asked, his arms crossed over his chest and no look of friendliness on his face.