by Kira Saito
Relief washed over me. She appeared before me in a pink satin gown that was totally out of place in the grimy cabin. Her neck was adorned with layers of silver chains and her hazel eyes had tears in them.
“Erzulie, is this a dream?” I asked.
“No,” she whispered. “Louis has a piece of your soul. He is making you live in the world in which he wants you to live.”
“How did he get a piece of my soul?” I asked even though I already kind of knew the answer. My hair. My fingernails. My blood. My spit. The list was endless. If he mixed it with the right ingredients, he could basically do whatever he wanted with me.
“You already know the answer to that,” said Erzulie.
“What the hell!” I exploded. There was no way I was going to live in this crappy cabin with Louis. “Where is Marie?” I asked. “If I’m living in Louis’ world, then that must mean Marie is here too.”
Erzulie shook her head. “She’s working up in the main house today, she won’t be around.”
“This is ridiculous!” I shrieked. “How can a ghost do all of this?”
“Keep calm my child.” Erzulie reached out and stroked my hair. “Louis is no ghost; he’s just as real as you. His soul is still roaming around, and he happens to be a powerful voodoo king, given who his mother was. He is bound in flesh and bone. The present day Louis is making you re-live his past for some reason or another. You live in his world for the day. When the night falls, you find the swamp and ask Gran-Ibo for help. Take some cornbread and blue-grey candles. When you see a yellow canary, you’ll know she’s near.”
Great, Louis wasn’t a ghost but some powerful voodoo king who passed his time messing with lowly queens. I had to go into the swamp and look for Gran-Ibo. I was screwed.
“You run until you find her. You have to convince her to let this piece of your soul reconnect with the present. I can’t tell you anymore about Louis. You need to figure all that out by yourself. Remember Gran-Ibo is the spirit of wisdom and patience, she is immensely powerful and knows all the magic of the swamp, but she will not tolerate any sort of lying. If she asks you a question, you need to answer it with all the honesty in your heart.”
I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. “Why is he doing this? What the hell did I do to him? This is bullshit! Why is he being such an ass? And why am I living with him?”
I knew that swearing in front of the voodoo spirit of love was a little tacky, but I couldn’t help myself. Being calm and sane weren’t really my greatest strengths.
Erzulie remained perfectly composed as she spoke. The tears evaporated, and her eyes narrowed as they rested on my face. “It’s not what you’ve done to him; it’s what you’re capable of doing. You’re living with him because that’s the only way you can get to know him and feel his pain. Louis wants you to feel his suffering. Now, I will not accept any more outbursts from you, my child. Do what I say and you can safely return back to where you belong. Go along with him; don’t let him know you know what he’s done. If you do, the present day Louis will catch on. Pretend you belong here. The curse he put you under was supposed to make you forget where you came from. If he finds out, you remember he’ll only make it stronger.”
“Then how do I remember? How do I know I don’t belong here?”
“Your weapon is your strength. The protective gris-gris you wear. The seven day candle you lit. They all helped you retain your grasp in reality. Present day Louis underestimated how strong you really are. He made the curse too weak. Every part of your soul recognizes that you don’t belong in this time and place. Don’t draw attention to yourself and you’ll be safe. The past Louis is a kind soul. He’s harmless, and you don’t have to worry about him being cruel to you.”
“But where is my body? If I’m here because present day Louis managed to put a spell on a piece of my soul, what happened to my body?”
“Your body is in a coma my child. It will remain like that until you reconnect this piece of your soul with the rest.”
“A coma?”
Erzulie remained stoic, as she spoke. “Yes, when someone places a curse on you, they can choose to attack your body, soul or mind. In this case, Louis chose to attack your soul, which means, your body will remain intact and unharmed.”
That was a little reassuring I guess. “But what happens if I don’t ever reconnect my soul?” Even though, I already knew the answer to that question, I needed to be sure my suspicion was right. “If I don’t get back?”
“Your body will remain in a coma until you naturally pass.”
She had to be kidding, right? I wondered how many coma patients were actually under voodoo curses. I shuddered at the thought of my body lying in some hospital room for the next sixty years or so.
“Be strong my child and survive the day.”
“Okay fine,” I said, as I realized that Erzulie had disappeared, and I was alone in the cabin.
I looked down at the necklace Lucus gave to me and reminded myself that whatever happened I was strong enough to take it on.
“I’m strong enough. I’m strong enough,” I muttered, as I tore off the gorgeous green dress and slipped in the hideous brown potato sack. Yes, the dress actually resembled a big old potato sack which was way too long. The material was itchy as hell as it clawed against my skin.
Just as, I finished dressing, rays of light seeped through the cracks that separated the logs and another horn bellowed in the distance.
Louis rushed back into the cabin. “Let’s go Arelia. We can’t risk being late.”
Chapter 20
Out in the Cotton Fields
Outside the early morning greeted me with a brutal slap of harsh light. Slaves marched out of their cabins and grimly headed to the fields that stood in the distance. They all wore the same hideous clothes as I did.
There must of have hundreds of them. They varied greatly in age and height, but all of their faces told the same sordid tale of utter misery. Some of them were barefoot while others wore tattered old shoes that appeared to be extremely ill-fitting.
The scene that played out in front of me was nothing like present day Darkwood. The smell of gloom hung thick in the air as I followed Louis to the field. In the distance, I saw long rows of puffy white cotton. It did an ethereal dance as sunlight bounced off of it. Its fresh snow-like beauty was undeniably pure and seemed so out of place considering the wretched circumstances that surrounded it.
I saw that most of the cotton stalks were taller than I was. They towered over me and intimidated me with their giant structure. The slaves around me scurried to strap on large sacks over their necks and grabbed large oak baskets that were laid out on the ground. I had no idea what was going on, so I stood there idly watching.
“Arelia, don’t stand there strap on a sack and grab a basket before they see you,” Louis warned.
“What… Why?” I stupidly asked.
“What’s wrong with you today? It’s August, time to pick the cotton off the stalks.” Louis’ eyes were filled with fear, as he grabbed a sack and placed it around my neck and thrust a basket in my hand.
I took the heavy basket from him. I glared at him and thought, you stupid ass you’re the one who brought me here what the hell do you want? I remembered Erzulie’s advice and knew that in order to get out this mess alive, I needed to survive the day and make a run for it at night. However, I had serious doubts that I would be competent at picking mass quantities of cotton.
“Move,” he pushed me into the cotton field. “The driver doesn’t look like he’s in a good mood today.”
In the distance, I saw a burly red-headed man with a cruel scowl on his face and a whip in his right hand. This had to be some sick joke. There was no way this was actually happening to me.
Louis held my cheeks and turned my head abruptly. “You know you’re not supposed to make eye contact with him, ever.” Beads of sweat dripped off his forehead, and his silky skin gleamed under the already unbearable morning sun. I couldn’t help but get
lost in his eyes. Where did I see those eyes before?
He grabbed my clammy hand and placed it on a stalk of cotton. “Go on now, pull.”
I frantically eyed my surroundings and realized that all the slaves were madly picking cotton off the long stalks and thrusting them into the bags that hung around their necks. They moved with an effortless grace and ease that was beautifully coordinated. It was obvious that they were accustomed to the task at hand. Considering I was a horrid dancer, a terrible singer and pretty much useless at anything else that involved hand eye coordination, there was no way I would be able to replicate their elegance.
Not one of them spoke or lifted their heads. The fear hung thick in the spectacularly humid air. I gave myself a hard slap across my face in a pathetic attempt to wake up.
“Have you lost your mind?” Louis hissed, as he glared at me. “Don’t draw attention to yourself. They aren’t going to accept any less than two hundred pounds. Quit playing games and start picking.”
Did he seriously say two hundred pounds? How was I going to pick two hundred pounds of cotton? I barely weighed a hundred pounds. Clearly, I had no choice but to start picking, so I did. Like a clumsy idiot, I roughly clutched a cotton stalk. To my horror, the stalk snapped in two with a deafening crack.
Louis slapped my hand. “Gentle, you can’t go around breaking stalks. Do you know what the punishment for that is?” He pushed me to next branch and quickly scanned the area for the disgusting slave driver. Thankfully, he was nowhere in sight, and my little mess wouldn’t get me in trouble.
The sun beat down on me mercilessly, as I attempted to be super delicate while grabbing as much cotton as possible. I was still convinced that the entire thing was a warped nightmare and my eyes would open at any second.
To my horror, my eyes didn’t open and the next eighteen hours were spent picking cotton. They dragged on and on in a surreal and ceaseless rhythm. I managed to fill the sack that hung around my neck and for a minute thought that the day was over. To my disappointment, I saw that the sack had to be emptied into the oak basket and had to be refilled again and again until we were given permission to stop.
My hands were raw and sore. My feet ached in excruciating agony, and I was thirsty as hell. I was ready to take the strap right off the bag, and make a noose out of it. I didn’t because I had nowhere to actually hang myself.
For a split second, I thought of Lucus and felt a surge of inexplicable rage and deep fury. Logically, I knew that it wasn’t Lucus’ fault that slavery had been invented or that his father chose to own a plantation, but for the first time, I could see why Louis was so incredibly angry at him. If I was so bitter after a few hours, I could only imagine the indignation, frustration and anger a lifetime of this existence could cause a person.
The thing I didn’t get was if Louis was so furious at Lucus why didn’t he make his life a living nightmare? Why was I being tossed into the middle of everything?
As I plucked cotton off those endless stalks, I felt humiliation and utter hopelessness wash over me. The ugly ginger slave driver walked the fields with a superior grin on his nasty pug-like face. As much as I wanted to kick him and tell him off, I knew that it wouldn’t get me very far. I had to stay cool and survive this ordeal. Why present day Louis wanted me to suffer the same fate he had? I had no clue, but I did know that there was no way I would let him keep me here forever. I refused to be a prisoner to anyone or anything.
By the end, of the day my fingers were numb, my back was sore, and my feet were raw. Louis eyed my basket, and I noticed that the vein in his forehead throbbed.
“You don’t have nearly enough,” he said. Quickly, he took handfuls of cotton out of his basket and shoved them into mine.
I tugged on my greasy hair and stood there confused. “What’s the difference?” I stupidly asked.
“The difference is your body,” he said like it was the obvious answer.
I had no idea what he meant, but my head hung in despair as I carried my basket to the something called the gin-house. An eerie silence filled the air as each slave made their way to the house. Their heads hung low as mine, and I could almost taste the fear that seeped through their pores.
I nudged Louis. “Why is everyone so quiet?” It was a silly question considering that the whole day had been filled with a deafening silence. Although grand-mere had taught me that slaves often sang coded songs in the fields, they only did so when the slave driver wasn’t around.
Louis tossed me a quizzical look. “Time to weigh the cotton.”
I had to remind myself that this Louis had no idea that I wasn’t actually a slave. As far as he knew, I was accustomed to this life, so the fact that I was asking all of these questions was a little strange. I realized that I was only drawing attention to myself, so I shut-up and followed the rest of the group into the cramped wooden cabin where the cotton was going to be weighed.
There were three men in the cabin. The nasty slave-driver and two blond men. All three were equal in height and beefy stature. In addition, all three wore the same patronizing smirk on their faces. Their eyes were narrow, and their cruel lips snarled, as they glared at us obviously taking morbid pleasure in our dread.
“I can help Arelia,” whispered Sousson Pannan. “These men mean nothing to you; I can help you get rid of them. You can start a revolution today and free all these poor souls.”
I glanced around the miserable faces that surrounded me and was overcome with so much pain and pity that I couldn’t help but answer him. “Can you really help?” I muttered under my breath.
He let out a violent laugh that sent intense shudders through my body. “Of course I can. My thirst is instable. You know that. I can feast on them, and you can run. You can take all of these people with you. Songs will be sung in your glory. You’ll be remembered in countless history books. You’ll be a legend. Legend, legend, legend, legend,” he hissed repeatedly.
I knew that I couldn’t trust him and messing with an unpredictable spirit like him would only make things worse. I knew what he was capable of. If I called upon him, he’d probably feast upon everyone including me. It would be a messy and grotesque bloodbath that I had no desire to create. Besides, I had no idea where they kept the rum in this place. “Go away,” I instructed. “I don’t need your help.”
“Don’t be so noble, Arelia, you know as much as I do what they deserve. Come on now.”
“No.” My voice was firm and determined. “Go away.”
“Next.” The ugly red-haired driver instructed. His squinty green eyes focused on me. Louis gave me a push, and I dragged the heavy sack towards him. Louis hoisted the basket on the table for me.
The burly blonde men behind the table scowled as they examined my face and started to weigh the cotton. I held my breath and clenched my clammy hands. “Pass,” said one of the men.
I exhaled and quickly moved to the side. It was Louis’ turn next. His face was twisted with fear, as he picked up his sack and basket.
As the men weighed the cotton, it was obvious they were immensely displeased. “Someone hasn’t done anything all day,” said one of them. “Fail.”
Fail? What did that mean? The red-headed man firmly took hold of Louis’ arm and thrust him into a corner. Vomit slowly crawled up my dry throat, as I realized what was about to happen. I closed my eyes and held back my tears as the lash of a whip met skin. Louis’ cries filled the room, and the other slaves looked at each other in terror. They knew that, at any second, they could be next.
As much as I was furious at the present day Louis, this Louis had sacrificed himself for me. He had taken on the punishment that was supposed to be mine. I reminded myself that I had to be strong. But with every lash and every scream, I felt myself growing increasingly weak.
“Legend,” whispered Sousson Pannan. “Legend. Say the words, Arelia and I will drink that driver dry and Louis won’t suffer another lash.”
“Legend?” I mindlessly questioned. All I had to do was say the w
ord. I had lost count of the number of lashes Louis had suffered at this point. The cracks brutally continued, and I just wanted them to stop.
“Don’t listen to him, Arelia.” A warm wind wafted into the stuffy cabin, and I knew Bade was there. “He’s selfish, don’t listen to him. He won’t make it better. He’ll only make it worse. All he cares about is satisfying his appetite.”
“Are you sure?” I whispered. “Can you help?”
Bade hissed, “Something’s are just meant to be. Stay strong.”
The cracks and screams stopped, and a distorted Louis stumbled towards me. I took him into my arms and held him as best as I could. I cradled him and desperately wished that I could make all his pain disappear. I felt like an utter coward because I couldn’t bring myself to look at his back. I didn’t want to look at his back.
“Back to the cabin, you’ll know what to do,” he muttered, as his lips grazed my ear.
I forced back the bile that had built up in my throat and looked down at the necklace that hung around my neck. Wrath coursed through my veins.
I escorted Louis away from the gin-house, but the screams and pleads of other slaves followed us. I tried my best to block them out, but they soaked through my skin and filled me with a powerful sense of anguish.
“Damn you Lucus LaPlante, how could you have let any of this happen? And why can’t I stop thinking about you? You’ve totally interrupted my ordinary life.” I had to remind myself that none of this was rationally or logically Lucus’ fault.
Why did everything have to be so complicated?
Chapter 21
Healing Louis
I helped Louis slowly walk back to the cabin. My eyes still refused to meet his back. “Thank you. Thank you,” were the only words that came out of my mouth.
He said nothing. Only low moans of wretched pain escaped his lips. When we finally reached the cabin, he lay with his belly down on the makeshift bed which consisted of foul smelling rags.