Page 1 of Beast of the Bayou

Prologue

The veil’s thin around these parts. So thin that if you strain your eyes at the right time of night, you might see the restless spirits wandering.

Yeah… there’s something magical about this place. Haunted, some say. If you believe in that sort of thing. Guess since you picked up this story, you just might.

Who am I? Well… names aren't important. I’m just a man who’s lived many lives and seen many things. So I know a little something about magic.

This here’s a good, safe town. The kind of place where folks know your name. We're a community—family. Dysfunctional as hell… but family, nonetheless. But every town got its stories. And this here’s ours. If you choose to roam around these parts, take heed. Everything's not always what it seems — and what it seems is not always what it is.

Folks here whisper about a beast.

Half man, half monster.

We call him… The Beast of the Bayou.

Not many have seen him. No one alive that is. He’s elusive. Caged up in that big ole mansion. Hasn't had a visitor since his parents were killed nearly twenty years ago. Now he just stays locked away. Rich, guarded, and…alone. Haunted by the ghosts of his past, and his mind.

Sad existence for a man, isn't it?

Well…I suppose you're probably tired of hearing an old man ramble.

Just remember what I told you.

Now go on stranger.

And welcome to Bayou Mourne.

Chapter 1: Solomon Mourne

Ismell blood. Warm, metallic and thick enough to coat the back of my throat. I can hear her heart racing and smell the fear that consumes her. Then the screaming comes. High pitched and blood-curdling.

My mother's.

I run toward it, but my feet won't move. I'm trapped in the hallway, staring at the door at the end of it. The same door I've seen hundreds of times in my dreams. It flies open and she stumbles through it. Blood covers the front of her dress. Her eyes find mine. Her mouth doesn’t move but I hear her voice screaming in my head:

"SOLOMON!"

The gunshot cracks through from the darkened room and I can see the muzzle flash. Her body jerks forward as she falls down. Bloody hands reach for me. I keep trying, desperately, to get to her as she fights for her life.

My mouth is open. I'm screaming but nothing is coming out. My face is soaked with tears, my body stiff from the strain of trying to force myself forward.

A shadowy figure emerges from the room. I see the gun being raised once more. I scream soundlessly.

BOOM!

I jerk awake. My chest rises and falls fast beneath the tangled sheets. My heart is pounding hard enough to hurt. For a few seconds, I don't know where I am. Then realization settles in. I'm in my bedroom in my house.

Dragging my hand down my face, I sit up. Another nightmare. My eyes flick to the open window and I see the crescent moon against the black sky. I stare at it a moment before my gaze strays to the mirror across from me. My features are cloaked in darkness, all except one. Glowing amber surrounds my brown irises. Looking away, I lay back down. Morning will be here soon.

***

My ears twitch slightly as the warmth of the sun awakens me. The smell of rich black coffee mingles with the familiar scent of her perfume. From down the hallway, I can hear two sets of footsteps. Soft, padded ones, and a more shuffled one that makes my stomach drop. Her knees are bothering her. Another indication that my beloved Lenora is getting old.

The two voices are whispering trying their best to keep their tone low so that I can't hear. Impossible. I can hear everything, including things I would prefer not to. Things such as this conversation:

"He won't be happy about this, Nora," Edgar purrs.

"Oh he'll be fine. This big ole mansion. I can't tend to it on my own like I used to."