CHAPTER 39

Hayfoot began to slow his hurried pace and Delilah was finally able to catch up with him for the first time in what must have been hours. Desperation and fear kept her from questioning his path, a few sniffs from the old doll dress and the aging, one-eared bloodhound moved with the conviction of a thousand confessional booths and the energy of a puppy spotting its first rabbit. No man seemed able to read the golden stitching and even if there was one poor soul left who could, Delilah was certain that they would just be moments away from the madness consuming their bodies. For miles and miles, through overgrown fields and houses abandoned to the once green willows and vines, she followed Hayfoot, prayin’ those spirits were not deceiving her. They were kindly spirits, but Delilah knew that all too often, most evil things are kindly at first.

The road before them now seemed to go on forever as they passed driveway after driveway, each belonging to once vibrant, crumbling estates whose lights had gone out long before the darkness swallowed the bayou. She remembered exploring them as a much younger child. Trudy and James introduced them to her on a bubblingly hot August afternoon. They took turns jumping out and scaring each other while finding all sorts of treasure left in dilapidated steamer trunks and termite weakened armoires. From time to time they would stumble across a young couple awkwardly trying to have forbidden relations or a gathering of lost souls whose only remaining experiences of humanity was in community around a shared needle, life long since been drained out their eyes. As embarrassing and frightful as those moments could be, they were far more preferential to the horror stumbling over the bottle at home. The adventure and discovery were merely an added bonus.

Delilah’s legs gave out from underneath her as her senses were swarmed by the scent and taste of honeysuckle. In a cloud of dust from the ashen road, she began to salivate as the light, syrupy fragrance spiraled around her like a swarm of angelic gnats. Hayfoot had continued ahead to the next abandoned driveway and then contently laid down, licking his dirt covered paws. Delilah could barely move, now delivered from the months long smell of sulfur, exhaustion and ecstasy seeped through her deepest bones as dust from the road settled on her ever-graying dress, further obscuring remnants of her daddy’s blood. A sharp bark shocked Delilah out of her trance, her eyes blinked into focus and saw Hayfoot with an accomplished, panting smile. He barked again, looking down the drive and looking back at Delilah; tongue joyously bright pink, haggard sandalwood coat heaving with excited pride, his dusty tail radiantly dancing with the magic of creation’s infancy, a mélange of pointed fuzz and expectant joy.

It took a few moments for her new situation to metastasize upon her. Hayfoot’s color cut through the dull green and gray lens that had held her world captive for months and the lush brightness emanating from the drive, danced into the shadowed road like dust particles in front of a window in summer, filling her with such warm relief. Delilah crawled towards Hayfoot and collapsed in the middle of road next to him. She unscrewed the now tan lid of her canteen and took a few judicious sips of water which trickled down her throat with an unexpected sweetness, filling her being with life. She then hollowed out a pile of dirt and gravel and emptied the rest of the canteen into it, the only reward she could give her beloved hound. Once Hayfoot had graciously finished his water, stopping several times to look up at Delilah to see if she wanted any, Delilah stood up and began down the driveway towards the light, Hayfoot affectionately in tow.

As she passed through the partition of magnolia trees, songs from waterthrushes and conversations from egrets and herons broke through the silence, sharpening in clarity as the magnolias incrementally began to shed their ashen sackcloth for their rich green splendor and bright white floral regalia. On each side of the drive, a yard sprawled forth in all directions with tall grasses and humble weeds sedately stood with a hushed reverence like expectant caretakers proud of their work but ready to be relieved of their burden. Delilah’s line of vision was obscured by two majestic willows whose long neglected, intermingled branches crossed the drive, creating a vaulted canopy that grazed the earth, beckoning travelers to approach with hearts clothed with a hushed solemnity. When she reached the willow branches, she respectfully paused before them and extended her hand before the ancient threads lightly swaying in the breeze. Feeling a moment too sacred for words, she reached out her, grazing the back of her hand across the branches which reciprocated the gesture, gently wrapping their fingers around her wrist, pulling her forward. With a settled confidence, she walked through branches which swirled around her with the gentleness of a maternal kiss and Hayfoot bounded ahead, stopping every few feet to spin around in joy before moving forward.

Through the trees stood a regal estate. This late-Victorian mansion’s robin egg blue paint and white trim glistened in the clearing. Its three levels of balconies and railings were covered in vines and overgrowth like its neighbors, but instead of serving as a signifier of decay and neglect, was adorned with emerald green tendrils adorned with ruby, opal, amethyst and sapphire colored flowers that Delilah had never seen before. She approached the house, having to squint and steady herself as the colors and brightness overpowered her senses. Hayfoot, unaffected by the colors, bounded towards the house in spurts, making sure he took time to sniff the grass and leave his mark on the bountiful lemon trees that stood along the walkway leading to the front porch. Delilah rushed towards an unmarked lemon tree and began to climb, storing the plump lemons in the hem of her now lilac, dust and blood covered dress. She fell from the tree and the ground greeted her gently, scattering the lemons on the ground. She laughed and picked up the one nearest her and bit into it, its tartness crackling with refreshment. It had been so long since she had tasted anything with flavor that she paid no mind to the sourness.

CHAPTER 40

Halfway through her third lemon, she decided to head on inside the house. The entrance stood above her, a red framed doorway guarded only by a black screen door, sparsely ornamented with brass fleur de lis. A light hum and scant fragrance of jambalaya wafted through the screen, beckoning Delilah up the porch stairs. She entered the house, Hayfoot by her heel, and was taken back by what she saw. She had entered many an estate, but instead of murky brown wallpaper with faded patterns and warped furniture exposing yellowed padding and rusted springs, this foyer opened to an ornate spectacle of elegant wallpaper decorated with gold patterns overlaid on green, red, and navy stripes on top of a rich cream-colored base. Chairs, couches, and ottoman’s lay scattered with pristine, crimson velvet cushions supported by black, lacquered legs. Illuminated by stained glass chandeliers, the shelves of decorative plates, enormous potted ferns and pedestals lifting up open tomes to inquisitive company were a feast for Delilah’s eyes but were relegated to the background compared to the sumptuous aroma coming from the kitchen awakening a deep rumble in her belly.

She made her way through dim hallways towards the scent of jambalaya and sound of pleasant song.  Getting closer, she could hear a jovial voice singing, “Knights of old we fight to hold, the glory of the purple and gold. Hmmmm… Hmmmm… Hmmm… This game for LSU. Hmmmm… Hmmm… Come on you tigers fight for more, for more…”

The kitchen was a long room with yellow walls lined with oak cabinets, marble prep stations and a simple rustic table made of white ash with six accompanying stools in the middle. At the far end of the kitchen stood a tall, skinny, old man wearing a faded purple, gold and green rugby shirt and loose fitting, light blue jeans. Sweat glistened off of his bald head and his boney shoulders shimmied along with his song as he meticulously stirred and tasted from a large black pot, rich in garlic, paprika, oregano, basil and cayenne. With neither sense of hesitation nor danger, Hayfoot trundled his way across the kitchen and began sniffing the man’s right leg. He looked down, smile beaming, bent down to pet and address his unexpected guest. “Well, well, well. How’d you get in here, boy? Seeing you only got one ear, I know you sure as hell didn’t find your way in here on account of my singing. You’re missing out, my friend.”

Delilah stood frozen, all of a sudden feeling like a trespasser. She quietly pressed herself against the back wall, wishing herself smaller and smaller. She watched the man return to the stove and pull out a couple of shrimp with a wooden spoon. He flipped one in the air, which Hayfoot consumed midair, propelling him to spin in celebration, pausing with bright eyes and droopy tongue for the next piece of shrimp which the man gladly tossed with an infectious cackle. When the shrimp was gone, Hayfoot nuzzled the man again, then turned to Delilah and enthusiastically barked repeatedly. The man got down to meet the dog’s eyes and squinted through his small wireless frames. Staring in Delilah’s direction, now in a serious tone, called “Is there someone else here? Who are you? What are you doing? Show yourself!”

CHAPTER 41

Delilah inched her way towards the man and as she tried to formulate an answer, she began to uncontrollably cry and blurted, “I’m so sorry! It’s just me. I’m just a little girl! My name is Delilah. The spirits sent me! I don’t mean no harm. Please don’t kill me!”

“Kill you?” The man chuckled with a grandfatherly grin. “Why would I want to kill you, child? You’re a little girl named Delilah? What’s the worse you’re gonna do? Cut off my hair? Take my strength? Shackle me to some temple that I eventually bring down for the sake of a redemptive narratival arc? If that’s the case, you’re too late? I’ve been as bald as a gator’s snaggletooth before your momma was born!” He shuffled to a cabinet and pulled out a large turquoise colored glass that he proceeded to fill with spearmint lemonade that was resting in a large, ice filled jar resting on the counter. He handed it to Delilah with a playful wink and motioned to the table. “It’s okay, darlin’. Have a sit and have a drink, you look parched and as tired as an snappin’ turtle after attending a poetry slam.”

Delilah took the glass and greedily guzzled down the vibrant elixir, handing it back to the man whose kind tone settled her with reassurances. He chuckled as she sheepishly took a seat at the table and quickly brought back a refill and set it on the table where Delilah had sheepishly taken a seat. The man ladled out two bowls of jambalaya, handed her one and a spoon and then sat opposite her with his own lemonade and vittles, continuing to pick out shrimp to toss to Hayfoot. The man patiently watched as Delilah wolfed down her food, only taking pauses to breathe a marvel aloud about the rich flavors. When she had finished her bowl of jambalaya and her third glass of lemonade, the man leaned back and asked, “So who are you, Delilah? And what was this business about spirits earlier?”

“My name is Delilah Henrietta Broussard. I was livin’ with my daddy in a small house bout 10 mile outside of Abbeville before the madness came. Momma left me with my daddy soon as I was born so he named me Delilah cuz he needed to be reminded, ‘women folk ain’t be nothin’ more than ruinous creatures conniving to steal a good man’s strength.’ He was a cruel man, and I wasn’t able to leave his harsh hand until he got struck by the madness. At least that’s what I been tellin’ myself these last weeks. Could be he was just in the drink like he usually was, but he got the madness look in his eye and came at me while I was makin’ dinner. He slipped and fell on my knife, and I just finished what had started. Didn’t just take his hair, took his whole head. His blood made such a mess and had such a smell, I just took oft runnin’, hiding in the swamp and sneakin’ food where I could until the spirits showed up and gave me my mission when I found this doll dress crumpled underneath a glowin’ mangrove tree. My doggie Hayfoot here always had a good nose and he led me to you and your shining estate. I think I been chosen to help you. May I ask who you are, sir?”

She handed the man the maroon and gold embroidered doll dress which he gingered played with, a satisfied smile began to expand on his already satisfied face. “Well, young lady, that is a harrowing tale. I’m so sorry you been burdened with such sorrow and suffering. Please, help yourself to more lemonade and jambalaya. As much as you want!” Delilah sheepishly thanked the man and refilled her food and drink.

Once she was settled, he continued, “As for who I am, they used to call me the ‘Ragin’ Cajun,’ but after all this madness nonsense in the bayou, goin’ by that seems a bit of a fraudulent claim. You can call me Jimmy. I’m just a cajun boy from Carville who got lucky nuff to find my way up to Washington few decades ago. Bout fifteen years ago, I met my best friend Rollo at a Captain D’s in Baton Rouge. Enjoying the AC and my second serving of hush puppies, a large man wearing gold framed sunglasses, an old Deuce McAllister jersey and gold chain ornamented with rubies and emeralds approached me. He leaned forward, bout an inch from my face, removed his glasses revealing bright white eyes, and addressed me with a voice with that shook my bones with some of the most powerful and ancient hoodoo I’d ever experienced. He asked me, ‘You like D’s?’ Feelin’ very small, I struggled to swallow the half-chewed hush puppy in my mouth, and then responded with a quiver in my voice, ‘Why yessir, yessir I do love Captain D’s.’ He began to smile, stood up straight, grabbed his manhood and thundered, ‘No! You like deez nuts?’ He laughed and laughed at my astonishment and took a seat across from me. I too began to chuckle at the brilliance of his clever turn-a-phrase and a friendship was born. Turns out, Rollo was part of a lineage of mystical guardians who watch over the spirits here in the delta. Turns out Louisiana is a gumbo of curses, hexes and spells that gotta be stirred just right to keep from being eaten up by all sorts of darkness. Looks like you’re the right spoon we was waitin’ for to give this mess a much needed stir.”

“Is that why the spirits appeared to me in the swamp? Am I special? Is this why my life has been so hard? Is that why I got beat so many times? Is that why my mother left? Is that why I had to kill my daddy? Because I was chosen to stir this cursed gumbo?” Desperation and hope battled between every syllable as Delilah processed this revelatory moment.

Jimmy looked tenderly at the young girl and gently responded with a faint lump audibly in his throat. “Delilah, I don’t know if there are any chosen ones. I’m afraid that you’re not some special Harry Potter child. You just some poor girl whose had a very sad life. A sadder, scruffier Nell. Just as Rollo told me to watch over this house, there are all sorts of magic people, spirits, and ghosts who watch over all sorts of talismans and relics.  They try to make sure people in the land of the livin’ use them when they most desperately are needed. What makes you special is that you were in that swamp, near this dress at a time when it was mos’ important. Maybe it was because you were the first person to pass by without the madness or maybe it’s because of your noble, one eared hound dog. What matters is that you’re here now. You have a belly full of jambalaya and a sacred ornament has been returned to where it belongs. If we real lucky, maybe we can see this little dress fulfil its purpose and witness some bayou savin’ magic.”

 Delilah cocked an eye at Jimmy and asked, “What kind of magic is in that dress and this house? Why is it the only safe place that has light and color and smells and flavor and isn’t covered in that madness and ash?”

“This is a very sacred plot of land. Over centuries, this land, this house, and the pond out back have served as a storage vault for all sorts of good magics. The Tchefuncte, the Mound peoples, Aztecs, Enochian magicians, houngans and mambos have all been storing their powers here since there was people in these haunted lands. Even the earliest to set foot in these swamps knew some deep evil lived here and they been throwing everything they can at to make sure it doesn’t get too big for its britches. All throughout this house are artifacts that keep different evils at bay and when they go missing, darkness like this madness gets loose and greedily consumes any goodness it can get its mitts on. This dress belonged to a very special doll that lives upstairs. One night I caught some crazed, junkie pervert who had broken in and was doin’ all sorts of unspeakable things to the doll. I shouted, ‘Hey, pervert! You cut that out!’ I threw a glass full of bourbon and lemonade at his head and he took off, that little doll dress in his hand. Bout three days later reports of the madness started poppin’ up and there been many a wizard and a phantasm lookin’ for this dress.”

“So, if we put the dress back on the doll, all of the darkness and the madness will go away?”

“Well, that is the hope. We still got a few more steps to see if its gonna work. There’s a good chance that the darkness is too strong to be reigned in by this magic.” Jimmy stood up and picked up the dress. “First, we gotta put the outfit back on the doll and then we gotta consult the Secret Tome of Mardi Gras Magic. I’ll go get the doll from upstairs and if you could bring that large book in the foyer back to the supper table. We will go from there.”

CHAPTER 42

Delilah nodded and the two went their separate ways as Hayfoot found his way to a corner, flipped his ear over his eyes and fell fast asleep with a happy twitch in his tale and a generous portion of drool pouring out of his mouth.  Delilah was surprised by how light the book was. Even though it had what seemed to be thousands of pages and took both arms to carry, it was as light as a feather and smelled like hyacinth and mesquite. When the two reconvened, Jimmy placed the dress next to a thick, white porcelain doll with blazing red hair and brilliant green eyes, bout eighteen inches long and six inches wide. “She sure is beautiful. Growin’ up I had one just like her, but with brown hair. Does she have a name?”

Flipping through the book, Jimmy responded, “Ol’ Della called her Georgette. Della Delacroix was from a family that had been stewards of a unique type of voodoo-druid magic for many a generation. By the time her folks had died off, Della had gotten tired of the witchery. Some people just ain’t made to live in the bayou and parlez with spirits, mystical swamp creatures and hobgoblins. Anyway, Della decided to channel all of her protective magic into this little doll and sealed it with the inscriptions on her dress. She then focused the rest of her magic into following her lifelong dream, bringing underwhelming refreshment to people with disposable income. You would’ve thought she’d at least give her naturally essenced beverage a fun name like “Della Della,’ but nope, she just went with ‘LaCroix,’ which is smart in retrospect because of how much some people think the cosmopolitan name more than makes up for its truly unnatural essences and unpleasant flavors.”

Jimmy stopped abruptly at a page, smiled, shook his head, and said, “Well, looks like we just gotta put the dress back on the lady of the hour, bring her out back to the guardians, use the instrument of the Templar Jester to perform the incantation and see if the guardians can release enough of the deep magic and get this curse to disappear!”

“Wait, who are the guardians? I thought you were the one in charge. You’re not one of the guardians of the magic?”

Jimmy squinted his eyes and chuckled with glee. “Oh, no child! I’m just a caretaker of this place for a while, just like my buddy Rollo! We shack up here for about six months at a time and we give tours, make sure the guardians are doin’ okay, mow the lawn and help give unexpected guests contextually useful exposition. Hell, you think if I really had some magical powers that pervert would’ve gotten away with that dress? I’m just here so the guardians got someone to relay information out to the broader world or do things they physically cannot.”

“Who are they then?”

“Grab that doll and follow me out back and let’s say hello! No time like the present.”

Delilah followed the kindly caretaker out a door adjacent to the kitchen which led onto a wide back porch with steps that led down to an expansive back yard filled with dogwood trees fully in bloom and plump bushes filled with white and yellow honeysuckle. A clean limestone pathway led from the stairs, cutting through the trees and the grass to a large pond whose still, crystal-clear water was speckled with vibrant green moss covered rocks and bordered by ancient cypress and mangrove trees whose expansive branches covered the water’s surface with the tender protectiveness a nursing mother does her child. A dozen yards from the porch to the left of the pathway, stood an old white shed with black trim. Jimmy told Delilah to wait a moment while he went inside to get the instrument for the incantation.

While he loudly searched the shed, clangs and thumps tumbling one after another as Jimmy seemed to knock everything over, Delilah held the doll close to her chest and felt a dam of sorrow burst from within her soul.  She collapsed to the ground, tears streaming down her face, droplets of release falling onto her dress, illuminating specks of color from her dress underneath months of grime, sorrow and shame. Jimmy emerged carrying an antique wooden washboard covered in black, pink, green, white and purple colored sequins and feathers and patiently watched over the young girl until she found her composure. When her tears subsided, he stretched out a hand and said, “Let’s go, little girl. We best not keep them waiting.”

Delilah grabbed his hand, stood to her feet, wiped her eyes, brushed off her dress and followed Jimmy down the pathway to the pond, continuing to hold Georgette close to her chest. When the two made it to the edge of the lake, Jimmy stopped, took off his shoes, rolled up his jeans to his knees and stepped into the edge of the pond which only came up halfway his shin. He turned to Delilah and beckoned her to join him, which she did. They stood quietly for several minutes, and then tiny bubbles began to break the stillness of the water all across the pond. Jimmy gently placed his hand on her shoulder and instructed, “The guardians know we are here, and they seem pleased. We must release the doll to them and begin the ceremony to see if they will be able to unlock the magic and if it is enough to drive this wicked evil away.”

Delilah looked up at the man with a trust and a vulnerability that she had never had the opportunity to share with her daddy. She handed him the doll and he thanked her with one of the kindest smiles she had ever seen. As he placed the buoyant doll on the surface of the pond, nudging its seemingly weightless frame towards the center, a strong wind began to whip around them both. The sound of the bubbles grew before them, turning into a cacophonous maelstrom of hums and whirs.  Slowly, one by one, the heads of hundreds of black, blue and red crawdads broke through the surface of the pond, beady extended eyes, antennae and claws trained on the floating doll. “They here and they ready to release that old, deep magic,” Jimmy whispered with hushed reference, eyes not once diverting from the doll now surrounded by a throbbing chorus of magical crawdads.

When the doll reached the center of the pond it was surrounded by row after row of singing crawdads, whirring and clicking along in unison as if they were not just individual mystical crustaceans, but seamlessly interconnected cell of a transcendent spiritual being. Shivers of cold and flashes of heat shot through Delilah’s frame as a fearful reverence froze her body in place. She understood that she was beholding an ancient presence that left her heart and soul feeling naked, vulnerable and ashamed. All she had known was a lifetime of sorrow and woe in a small house in a small town and she felt so small standing before this living spectacle of creatures that could lay bare the souls of man, resonating with the deepest mysteries of the universe.

CHAPTER 43

Unaware if minutes of hours had passed, Delilah felt Jimmy remove his hand from her shoulder as he slowly lifted the Templar Jester instrument to rest underneath his chin. He began stroking the bedazzled washboard lightly with the knuckles on his right hand enlivening the crawdads. They grew louder and louder as the sound from the instrument grew in resonance as the rhythm steadied. Jimmy closed his eyes and began to rap harder and louder, desperately using his mind to conjure up the strength he had in his youth. Knuckles bruised, he had found the limits of his amplification as the crawdads rose from the lake and shrieked in increasingly chaotic harmony around the now levitating doll. Delilah was terrified but found comfort in the fact that this magic was the only power she’d ever witness that was as strong, if not stronger, than the power of the darkness that had subsumed the land.  

The crawdads sound latched on to Jimmy’s instrumentation, growing louder and louder until a familiar pulsating rhythm emerged. Delilah stood motionless and transfixed as Jimmy and the crawdads began moving up and down to the rhythm. Once physical and sonic syncopation was reached, the sound from the crawdads unified into a thunderous, discernable voice, causing the everything in sight to begin to shake.

In the summertime, when the weather is hot.
You can stretch right up and touch the sky.
When the weather’s right,
You got women, you got women on your mind.
Have a drink, have a drive.
Go out and see what you can find.

Jimmy’s eyes rolled back into his head as he joined in their melody while a bolt of energy shot out from the sacred instrument, piercing the protective magical canopy above as the spear pierced the side of Christ.

If her daddy’s rich, take her out for a meal.
If her daddy’s poor, just do what you feel.
Speed along the lane, you do a turn or return to 25.
When the sun goes down, you can make it,
Make it good in a lay-by.

Darkness poured through the crease with a howling violence, screaming with an unholy anger directly to the pond. The crawdads began to sing louder, and Georgette rose to meet the darkness, burning with the strength and brightness of the sun.

We’re no threat, people, we’re not dirty, we’re not mean.
We love everybody, but we do as we please.
When the weather’s fine, we go fishing or go swimming in the sea.
We’re always happy, life’s for living,
Yeah, that’s our philosophy.

The darkness sharpened into a point to meet the doll but crumpled with the sound of a million breaking bones as soon as it touched Georgette’s blinding aura.

Sing along with us,
Dee-dee-dee, dee-dee.
Dah-dah-dah, dah-dah,
Yeah we’re hap-happy.
Dah dah-dah,
Dee-dah-do, dee-dah-do, dah-do-dah.
Yeah, dah-do, dah-dah-dah,
Dah-dah-dah, do-dah-dah,
Alright.

James continued strumming the washboard and the crawdads went temporarily silent. The rupture in the covering tore across the sky as fissures made by the evil burst forth like demonic oil wells, each with a blood curdling shriek. The strands of wickedness were of one mind where it was going, pulled to Georgette like a Tercell to a junkyard magnet. Once every drip of evil seemed congregated around the doll and bright blue sky began peaking out from the veil for the first time in months, the crustaceans began to raise their voices once again.

When the winter’s here, yeah it’s party time.
Bring your bottle, wear your bright clothes
It’ll soon be summertime,
And we’ll sing again, we’ll go driving
Or maybe we’ll settle down.
If she’s rich, if she’s nice, bring your friends
And we’ll all go into town.

The darkness began losing its fluidity, contorting in sharp, spiked angles and cracking with the sound of lighting striking a tree trunk. The song only grew louder, swallowing the sound of its suffering prey.

In the summertime, when the weather is high
You can stretch right up and touch the sky.
When the weather’s fine, you got women
You got women on your mind.
Have a drink, have a drive, go out and see what you can find.
If her daddy’s rich, take her out for a meal
If her daddy’s poor, just do what you feel.
Speed along the lane, do a ton or a ton and twenty-five
When the sun goes down, you can make it,
Make it good in a lay-by.

The surrounding trees began to shake like a desperate dog escaping a bath. The shards of darkness reverberated, disintegrating into dust as the crawdads flew up into the air of the rattling pond and splashing back down. They held a final powerful note as color, scent, joy, sounds of birds, and the sound of generations of spirits joining together in a rapturous, indecipherable chorus flooded into the clearing where Delilah, James and Hayfoot stood. James collapsed, drained of all strength, washboard bouncing at his feet as the darkness dissipated into a mist and the surrounding cacophony settled into a gentle, maternal hush.

CHAPTER 44

Job completed, the crawdads meekly descended back into the water, leaving the trio exhausted and alone in their newly restored Eden. Delilah smoothed her dress out and sat up. Speaking to no one, she asked, “Is it really gone? Is the world back to normal?”

With a wry smile and a twinkle in his eye, James stood up and wiped his brow. “Well little lady, how bout I go find out?” He raised his hands, cracked his back, put his thumb and forefinger together and whistled, loudly. “Cornelius! Cornelius? Where you is boy?”

 A few seconds later a massive grey alligator with shiny yellow eyes waddled towards them with weighted steps oddly bouncing with whimsy. Hayfoot, who had been quiet up until now, jumped in front of Delilah and began to growl at the beast as Delilah shook slackjawed in disbelief.  James scratched the dog’s head as Cornelius approached. “Don’t worry bout Ol’ Cornelius, little doggy. He’s an old friend and my trusty steed.”

Hawfoot calmed down and the gator laid down about a yard away from James who proceeded to climb onto its back. While he was situating himself, he addressed the befuddled girl, “We’ll be right back Delilah. Should be no longer than a couple of hours. This is still one of the safest places you can be. There’s more of that jambalaya in the kitchen and more to drink. Help yourself! You and your noble puppy get some rest. You’ve earned it!”

James scratched the gator’s head and shouted ‘Yaaah,” and he and Cornelius shot towards the sky, James whooping and hollerin’ like Major Kong. This final delivery of wonderment sapped all of the energy out of Delilah and she collapsed on the soft green grass, the earth embracing her broken body and soul, prioritizing this little hero and the firmament began healing all around her. Hayfoot trotted over to the pond, had a few lazy drinks, and made his way back to the snoring Delilah, settling into a nap, gently curled at the little girl’s feet.

Hours later, long after the sun gone down and the crickets begun their harmonizin’, Delilah and Hayfoot were awakened by a loud thud. Rubbing the still dormant hours of sleep left in her eyes, Delilah watched James creakily disembark Cornelius, three large blue and white bags in one hand and gallon of sweet tea in the other. “Sorry bout the delay, little lady. Had to fly ol’ Cornelius all the way to Andalusia to find a Captain D’s that wasn’t ravaged by the unpleasantness.”

He sat down next to her and they began to feast on hushpuppies, catfish, fried chicken, and shrimps while they shared swigs from the jug of sweet tea. Hayfoot and Cornelius joined in as well, gleefully chompin’ away at fried oysters tossed their way. Stomach’s full from a well-deserved meal, James turned to Delilah and said, “I know you ain’t got no home to go back to. If you don’t feel like wandering the bayou, I sure could use you here. I know this house and these creatures could use a caretaker as smart and as brave as you. You got a good head for magic too. What do ya say? You wanna be one of the caretakers of this fine establishment?”

Smiling she responded, “I don’t know what else is out there for me, but it wouldn’t hurt to rest a spell here.” She crawled over to washboard and brought it over and handed it to James. “You know any more songs? Don’t need any deep magic or nothin’, just a song to celebrate a wonderful day and a bright future.”

James grinned ear to ear, set the washboard under his chin, and said, “I got just the one.” He began to strum and then sing:

Oh, I’ve been thinking ’bout my life
What’s been wrong and what’s been right
Some say that, some say this
Some say no, some say yes

Alright, alright, alright
Alright, alright, alright

Oh, I don’t know what’s going on
But I know what’s right from wrong
Too many heads and too many minds
Too many wrongs and too many rights

Alright, alright, alright
Alright, alright, alright

I hear you talking, alright, alright, alright
I hear you talking, alright, alright, alright.

Delilah swayed and sang along, feeling a sense of home for the first time in years. Hayfoot and Cornelius joined in the dance, bouncing like they were in a scene from an Emmet Otter film. As dawn broke, the group fell into a contented sleep, happy and relieved for the day and future ahead of them.