Thursday, March 18, 2010
Spikes led the way through the thick swamp.
“Slow down Buzzard.” A string of moss reached down and brushed my cheek, as I hurried to keep up with him.
“We need to get there before those clouds cover the moon, and we won’t be able to find our way.” He patted his back pocket where he had stuffed his flashlight. “I don’t wanna use old Red unless I have to. Batteries aren’t cheap, ya know.” He turned around and glared at me. “And for the last time, don’t call me that.”
The loud croaking of the frogs and buzzing cicadas rang in my ears. A male alligator grunted in the distance.
A chill went through my body, while the mud pulled at my boots. “We are going to die here.” I looked behind me to see how far we had come from the water’s edge.
He plowed ahead. “I have to get the spell, and she is the only one that can give it to me.”
The moon created shadows from the willows and cypress trees that lined a path into the swamp where it was rumored the voodoo witch lived.
No grown-up in the area admitted to actually believing the legend--even though they liked telling it. But the kids living along Bayou Platte seemed to know differently, and Spikes had a reason to want to find out the truth. And, as scared as I was, I wanted to see for myself what was on Ghost Dog Island.