Jillian Chantal

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt smart. I’m still working on my swamp story.

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Jacques and I crept across the floor toward the staircase, stepping carefully over wood surface. The rain was loud and rattling the roof, but, so far, it was cozy inside. Well, as cozy as it could be in the low temperatures with no leaks in the ceiling. The gaps in the siding of the house allowed the wind to whistle sporadically through the rooms. But at least we’re dry.

The stairs creaked as Jacques headed up them ahead of me. “Hang back a second while I test the strength of them. If they can hold me, they sure can hold you.”

Great. Something else to worry about. Him falling through a dilapidated step and breaking his leg. Just what I need. A whiny baby on the first floor and a professor stuck halfway to the second floor with a broken leg or pelvis.

I pulled the bottle of smart water™ out of the side pocket of my backpack and took a swig while I waited to see if Jacques would have success or I’d be calling for an ambulance.

Another bolt of lightning lit up the windows. It was followed immediately by a thunderous boom and a faint yelp.

“I guess Monte is still bewailing the choices he made this evening,” Jacques called down to me. “That noise sounded like him squealing.”

“Yeah. Who knew he’d be such a big baby? I guess you never really know someone until you spend some time in the swamp with them.”

“Since he’s so sure he’s going to die tonight, we could use that for his epitaph.” Jacques waved his arm. “Come on up. It’s safe.”

I tucked the water back in the mesh section and took the first step up. The stair wobbled and for a moment, I thought it might give way. I grabbed the banister and held on for a second before moving on. Don’t let me be the one with the broken leg.

“Watch the fourth and fifth ones. They each have a hole on the edge. Opposite edges, that is.”

Great. Lovely. I’m a klutz on the best of days and now here I am in the midst of a storm in the partial darkness with a rotting staircase. What could possibly go wrong?

The writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt pitch his week. I am still in my swamp story.

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“We’re going to walk around inside to get the lay of the land and see what we can see. You’re welcome to join us or not,” Jacques said.

“Which would you rather do, Monte? Sit here alone or come with us?” I asked.

“Quite honestly, I’d like to get the car keys and drive back to New Orleans.”

“That’s not an option so I guess you’re out of luck.” Jacques swung the lantern. “Come on, Annika. Let him pitch his fit alone. Who knew he’d be such a pain?”

I couldn’t resist saying, “Is it like if he complains and there’s no one around to hear, is a sound made?”

Jacques laughed but Monte frowned. “Go ahead. Leave me all alone. You know anything could happen here and you’d regret your sarcasm if I somehow got injured while you two left me on my own.”

“Why in the ever loving hell did you agree to come in the first place? You know it was a plantation in the middle of nowhere and there was no electricity. You’re acting all surprised it’s dark at night and there are animals in the swamp. What exactly did you expect to find here?”

I could tell Jacques was losing his temper with Monte so I stepped in to try to defuse the situation. “Let’s leave him one of the lights and the whistle I packed in my backpack. If something happens, he can blow it and we can come quickly. Otherwise, we wasted an evening. Cut him some slack. That cougar did sound close but we also know sound can carry over distance and can get skewed when there’s wind and rain. No need to sacrifice a friendship over Monte’s unknown sensitivity. Now he knows this isn’t for him. It’s one night and he never has to venture out here again.”

“You seem awfully convinced I’m going to make it through the night.” Monte shuddered. “I can’t help but think about every horror movie I’ve ever seen. My skin is itching to get off me and run screaming through the swamp to safety.”

It was all I could do not to laugh at the visual of skin running and screaming but I didn’t want to alienate my friend any further so I merely nodded. “I get it, Monte. We’ll still be in the house. Not far to come if you need us. Use the whistle if you have to.”

I handed him the whistle I always kept with my gear in case I needed to scare off a dog while taking my run.

“Thank you for being nice.” Monte eyed Jacques with ill-disguised rancor.

“Come on if you’re coming, Annika.” Jacques’ glare at Monte was just as intense. He turned and walked toward the large arch at the far end of the room.

With a kind glance back at Monte and a waggle of my fingers, I followed.

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt, Confident. I m still working on my Halloween story.

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Not confident at all at my ability to outrun a panther or a gator, I declined to take Monte up on his request. “I’ll pass. Let’s set up here inside where we can be pretty sure we won’t have any risk of injury if one of us gets spooked by something going bump in the night.”

“I’m not afraid of anything supernatural but the very real predators of the swamp give me chills. I mean, you saw the state of this place. What’s to stop some creature from taking shelter in this run-down place overnight?” Monte asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jacques said. “The animals outside here are in their natural habitat. An old plantation house is not alluring to them at all.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, a huge clap of thunder reverberated around us..

I whirled around, looking at the ceiling. “Do you think there’s any leaks? Thunder usually means rain.”

“We’re on the ground floor so surely any leaks wouldn’t come all the way down here,” Monte said as he stared up as well.

“You two are so paranoid. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night.” Jacques walked the floor of the parlor, swinging his light as he went. “Look, like my friend said, the floors are redone. There will be no falling through here.” He looked from me to Monte. “I would also hazard a guess that he wouldn’t have spent the money on these nice floors if the ceiling leaked. So, relax and let’s set out the sleeping bags for later. Then we’ll explore a bit.”

Another boom of thunder, this one accompanied by a huge strike of lightning that lit up the room made me jump. “Yikes.”

Before either of my friends could respond, another streak of lightning lit the room. A floating ball of fire appeared out the window accompanied by a huge crash.

“What the hell?” Monte yelled.

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.