- May 9, 2012
- 23,978
- 81,413
- Primary Interest:
- Other
Augusts heat slowed things to a crawl most days. A bustle of activity early and late in the day and a rush to be behind doors at dark.
Colander's were a common sight in dooryards and near chimneys. The theory being a Rougarou approaching the door or planning to descend the chimney would be distracted by hole counting long enough to forget it's mission and dawn would foil it's efforts.
Stores saw a run on salt and even sulfur though discretely, lest superstition be suspected of the highbrowed....
Gossip in an attempt to name a suspect solved nothing, but fanned an undercurrent of frenzy. Of course no one dare admit being out at night and anyone ill was regarded with great suspicion for months...with an alibi required of them during any unusual occurrences.
Those things, if dared directed towards those from the swamps or off train or ship, horse or carrige were not voiced.
The inmates of the city did not want attention directed at them from anyone not as vulnerable as themselves in their own created dilemma's.
Father and Jr. were supplying moss to the carriage trade and would be gone weeks at a time before showing up in town.
Cypress knees were left for consignment, aimed towards tourist's at the hotel.
Homespuns had replaced suitcoats and ties and neither could be accused of owning a comb or razor.
Short visits while a tool or rope or sundry was sought were attended with a few grunts and a whiff of whisky and smoke and they would head again towards town for who knows what before heading back to their skiff.
Why they even came around was almost a question but fathers attitude seemed one of possession of the property, yet with no desire to be on it.
I was not angry or feeling pity seeing them leave, Jr's. premature grey hair nearly matching the gaunt old mans. More I felt a sense of relief.
Something worse than anger seemed to emanate from them, even when smiling.
Colander's were a common sight in dooryards and near chimneys. The theory being a Rougarou approaching the door or planning to descend the chimney would be distracted by hole counting long enough to forget it's mission and dawn would foil it's efforts.
Stores saw a run on salt and even sulfur though discretely, lest superstition be suspected of the highbrowed....
Gossip in an attempt to name a suspect solved nothing, but fanned an undercurrent of frenzy. Of course no one dare admit being out at night and anyone ill was regarded with great suspicion for months...with an alibi required of them during any unusual occurrences.
Those things, if dared directed towards those from the swamps or off train or ship, horse or carrige were not voiced.
The inmates of the city did not want attention directed at them from anyone not as vulnerable as themselves in their own created dilemma's.
Father and Jr. were supplying moss to the carriage trade and would be gone weeks at a time before showing up in town.
Cypress knees were left for consignment, aimed towards tourist's at the hotel.
Homespuns had replaced suitcoats and ties and neither could be accused of owning a comb or razor.
Short visits while a tool or rope or sundry was sought were attended with a few grunts and a whiff of whisky and smoke and they would head again towards town for who knows what before heading back to their skiff.
Why they even came around was almost a question but fathers attitude seemed one of possession of the property, yet with no desire to be on it.
I was not angry or feeling pity seeing them leave, Jr's. premature grey hair nearly matching the gaunt old mans. More I felt a sense of relief.
Something worse than anger seemed to emanate from them, even when smiling.
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