The Atchafalaya Swamp, by Rita Monette

The Atchafalaya Swamp

by Rita Monette

If you read any of my swamp legend books, you will almost certainly come across this long word. Atchafalaya comes from the Choctaw term hacha falaia meaning “long river,” and it’s pronounced pretty much like they said it. 

The Atchafalaya Swamp or basin is the largest wetland and swamp in the United States, with an area of 1,400,000 acres, including the swamps outside of the levees that historically were connected to the basin. It surrounds the plain of the Atchafalaya River, which flows through parts of eight parishes in Louisiana, ending in Morgan City, then into the gulf. 

The basin is filled with bayous, bald cypress swamps, and marshes, and being susceptible to long periods of deep flooding, is sparsely inhabited.

The few roads that cross it follow the tops of levees, except for Interstate 10, which crosses the basin on an 18-mile bridge.

For more beautiful photos of this awesome swamp:
http://www.kuriositas.com/2010/09/atchafalaya-biggest-swamp-in-states.html

*****

In my new release, The Curse at Pirate’s Cove, Nikki Landry and her friends find out just how big that swamp is!

Here's an excerpt from the chapter where Nikki and her friends are making their way through the swamp after escaping from a ghostly pirates ship.

  Our longboat didn’t take the twists and turns as easy as a pirogue, but it kept us out of the water. Thank God for that.

  As the boat crept along, we got quiet and watched the bank. It even seemed like the critters in the swamp went silent along with us. Snooper, who was against my leg, growled real low. I rubbed his ears. I had the creepy feeling someone was watching us, and so did Snoop. The dark closed in to almost total blackness. The moon made tiny lights on the water. They blinked and flickered like fireflies as the oars slid us slowly along. I listened for anything that didn’t sound like normal swamp sounds. A mosquito whined loudly around my ear. I slapped my face. Nothing unusual…except for my stomach grumbling.

  Then, a loud barking and snarling pierced the night like a sharp knife. Snooper stood up and returned the racket, only his wasn’t quite as fierce.

  Spikes and Tommy dug the oars in and pulled as hard as they could. The boat moved fast—too fast for a place we didn’t know and in the dark.

  “Okay, guys, slow down,” Patti said. “I think we’re past the dog…or whatever that was.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “We can’t see where we’re go—” My body came out of my seat and tumbled across the boat. My arm hit one of the oar locks as I flipped over the edge and into the water.

  “We hit something,” Spikes shouted. “I dropped my oar in the water.”

  “Forget the oar!” Patti hollered. “Nikki’s overboard.”

  I tried to grab onto the side of the boat, but it slipped from my hand. I couldn’t see anything to grab onto or which way to swim. I began to worry about what was in the water with me. Papa said gators look for food at night, but didn’t mess with people unless they got real hungry or they got too close to their nest. I prayed none of ’em around here were hungry enough to eat a girl. Something caught hold of my overalls strap and pulled me away from the boat.

  “Nikki, where are you?” Patti’s voice shook.

  “I forgot,” Spikes said. “I still have my flashlight. I hope it still works…it’s supposed to be waterproof.” The light came on. “We’ll find her.”

  I heard my friends talking in the darkness, but whatever had my clothes hung on tight. The beam from Spike’s flashlight moved farther away. I kicked at the water and screamed, “I’m over here.” I couldn’t imagine what had hold of me and what it might do to me. “Hurry.” I felt teeth digging into the back of my shirt. It’s over.


If you enjoyed Nikki's adventure in The Legend of Ghost Dog Island, you'll love, The Curse at  Pirate's Cove. Available at Mirror World Publishing, Amazon, or anywhere books are sold. Watch for the third swamp adventure, The Secret in Mossy Swamp (Legend of the Rougou) later this year.

If you'd prefer a signed copy of either book, email me at frmonette@yahoo.com.

Pierre Part, Louisiana, by Rita Monette

Pierre Part, Louisiana

by Rita Monette


I’ve spent the last few weeks in my home state of Louisiana, promoting my books and visiting relatives.

While there, I visited my brother in the small town of Pierre Part, Louisiana, which also happens to be the home of Troy Landry of the Swamp People TV series, and where my series, The Nikki Landry Swamp Legends, begins. No, Nikki is not kin to Troy—at least I don’t think so. 

The town is about as Cajun as anywhere in Louisiana. Folks there make their living in the bayous, where crawfish, crabs, and alligators are plentiful.

However, I came across one man that makes his living gathering old cypress and turning it into artistic creations. His name is Adam Morales. He says he is blessed to be able to see things in the old remains of cypress trees. Here are a couple of his creations.

Many folks in Pierre Part still live in houseboats, just like they did back in 1956 where my stories begin.

Last month was the release of book two, The Curse at Pirate’s Cove, which is set in the nearby town of Morgan City, and in the Atchafalaya Swamp, where Mr. Morales collects the cypress for his artwork. 

Follow Nikki and her friends as they find an old pirate ship in the swamp, encounter some ghostly pirates, and end up lost in 1814 in the largest swamp in the United States.

Get your copy at Amazon, 

Mirror World Publishing,

Barnes and Noble

Kobo

The Pirates are Here! , by Rita Monette

FINALLY!

Today is the RE-release of The Curse at Pirate's Cove, the second in the series of The Nikki Landry Swamp Legends. The story of a young girl growing up in the bayous of Louisiana in the 1950s.

In this episode, Nikki turns eleven years old. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NIKKI! Papa had promised her she could ride her bike to school when she turned three syllables. The wait was over.  Or so she thought.

Yep, Nikki didn't get very far on her rusty old bike. Papa had found it at a landfill, so it was pretty beat up. Would she be doomed to ride the smelly old school bus for the rest of her young years? She needed to find a way to get a new bike.

Nikki goes to see the movie, The Buccaneer, about Jean Lafitte, the pirate. She then learns about an old ship in the swamps, and how it could have belonged to some pirates, who had buried treasure all up and down the bayous. So she makes a birthday wish to find the gold...and writes it in her diary.

That's When things go terribly wrong. Was there a curse on the treasure? Did her wish trigger that curse?

Nikki and her friends go a big adventure when some ghostly pirate's show up to retrieve what was rightfully theirs.

The pirates whisk them away into 1814, where a famous war was taking place...The Battle of New Orleans.

As Nikki and her friends escape the chaos, will they be able to find their way through the Atchafalaya Swamp and back home to Morgan City?

Here's an excerpt:

“How do you know it’s a pirate ship?”

“It has to be, Nikki. Listen.” He turned toward me. “I was out at Uncle Luke’s this past weekend, and he told me all about it.”

“I ain’t believing there’s no pirate ship out in those swamps.” I lifted my chin.

“Just hear me out, Tomboy.” He sounded impatient. “There’s a legend that goes along with it, see.” He leaned toward me and lowered his voice. “There might even be a curse.”

“A legend?” He had my attention. I prided myself in being a super legend buster ever since I solved the one about Ghost Dog Island last year. I even got my picture in the newspaper. “Well, tell me about it.”

“I’m trying to.” He waved his hands in the air.

We propped ourselves against a couple of large limbs and got out our lunch bags.

“Uncle Luke says he first heard about it back when he was a kid. He says a friend of his grandfather, by the name of Beco, was out trapping on Fog Island with his buddy Clamare. They came across this here hole in the ground with a half-buried wooden chest, see. It had a big old lock on it. There was a couple of coins in the dirt, so Clamare picked them up and slipped them in his pocket. Beco decided he’d go back for some tools and shovels to dig the rest of it out, and told Clamare to stay there and watch the chest. On his way out to the edge of the island, he saw this ragged old ship. Thinking it was kind of odd looking for being in the swamps and all, he got a little closer. It had a broken mast and raggedy sails.” He poked me with his elbow. “When was the last time you ever saw a fishing boat with sails?”

I shook my head. “Never.” I unwrapped a peanut butter and jam sandwich and took a bite. “What’d he do?”

“Well, he started to board it, see?” Spikes dug into his own lunch bag. “But then he heard some talking coming out of the boat. He stopped right then and there, ’cause he didn’t know who might be on that old wreck out in the middle of nowhere, and there weren’t no other boats around. This one had a big old hole in the hull, so it couldn’t have sailed there on its own. At least anytime in recent history.”

“Then what?” I licked some of the jam off my fingers.

“Then someone stuck his head up over the bow, see. He had on one of them three pointed hats that pirates always wore. Old Beco yelled a big hello, and the man took out a pistol and shot over his head. Well, Beco took off right then and there. That night, he went down to T-Noon’s bar and got drunk, and told some other fellows about it. The next day, they all went back out to the island with shovels and brought guns just in case that crazy guy in the boat was still there.”

“Was he?” I asked.

“Nope. The ship was gone, and so was Clamare.”

“What about the treasure?”

“They never could find it. Not even the hole it was in.”

Author

Rita Monette

I grew up in the bayous, and the legends are based loosely on my childhood and some of the tales my dad used to tell. I also do the pencil illustrations within the books.

You'll find the book available at my publisher, Mirror World Publishing , Amazon, or almost any book seller. 

Pirates in the Bayous, by Rita Monette

Pirates on the Bayou
by Rita Monette


Pirates! 

Good or bad, everyone seems to love pirates. Arrgggg!

My hands-down favorite pirate is Jean Lafitte. I suppose it’s because he is both good guy and bad guy, and because his base of operation was my home state of Louisiana. There is much legend and lore about this famous pirate-turned-patriot. 

In my upcoming middle grade novel, The Curse at Pirate’s Cove, our Cajun kiddos get more than they bargain for when they go after some of Lafitte’s buried treasure on a nearby swamp island. Look for it this November, from Musa Publishing.

Excerpt:

“How do you know it’s a pirate ship?” I asked.

“It has to be, Nikki. Listen.” He turned toward me. “I was out at Uncle Luke’s this past weekend, and he told me all about it.”

“I ain’t believing there’s no pirate ship out in those swamps.” I lifted my chin.

“Just hear me out, Tomboy.” He sounded impatient. “There’s a legend that goes along with it, see.” He leaned toward me and lowered his voice. “There might even be a curse.”

“A legend?” He had my attention. I prided myself in being a super legend buster ever since I solved the one about Ghost Dog Island last year. I even got my picture in the newspaper. “Well, tell me about it.”

“I’m trying to.” He waved his hands in the air.

We propped ourselves against a couple of large limbs and got out our lunch bags.

“Uncle Luke says he first heard about it back when he was a kid. He says a friend of his grandfather, by the name of Beco, was out trapping on Fog Island with his buddy Clamare. They came across this here hole in the ground with a half-buried wooden chest, see. It had a big old lock on it. There was a couple of coins in the dirt, so Clamare picked them up and slipped them in his pocket. Beco decided he’d go back for some tools and shovels to dig the rest of it out, and told Clamare to stay there and watch the chest. On his way out to the edge of the island, he saw this ragged old ship. Thinking it was kind of odd looking for being in the swamps and all, he got a little closer. It had a broken mast and raggedy sails.” He poked me with his elbow. “When was the last time you ever saw a fishing boat with sails?”

I shook my head. “Never.” I unwrapped a peanut butter and jam sandwich and took a bite. “What’d he do?”

“Well, he started to board it, see?” Spikes dug into his own lunch bag. “But then he heard some talking coming out of the boat. He stopped right then and there, ’cause he didn’t know who might be on that old wreck out in the middle of nowhere, and there weren’t no other boats around. This one had a big old hole in the hull, so it couldn’t have sailed there on its own. At least anytime in recent history.”

“Then what?” I licked some of the jam off my fingers.

“Then someone stuck his head up over the bow, see. He had on one of them three pointed hats that pirates always wore. Old Beco yelled a big hello, and the man took out a pistol and shot over his head. Well, Beco took off right then and there. That night, he went down to T-Noon’s bar and got drunk, and told some other fellows about it. The next day, they all went back out to the island with shovels and brought guns just in case that crazy guy in the boat was still there.”

“Was he?” I asked.

“Nope. The ship was gone, and so was Clamare.”

“What about the treasure?”

“They never could find it. Not even the hole it was in.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the meantime, if you haven’t read The Legend of Ghost Dog Island, it’s a must read for anyone ages eight and up, interested in Cajun history and living in the bayous of Louisiana in the 1950s.