Family Curse

Jacques let the screen door slam shut as he ran out the house. Even though he couldn’t hear the whispered words, he knew what his father was telling his back.

“You can’t run forever.”

Just long enough to escape this place, Jacques thought, not for the first time. So far, he hadn’t found a way out. He just seemed to prolong the inevitable.

Same argument. Different night.

Jacques bounced his truck down the old, rutted lane that snaked its way around the family property. Judging by the poor condition of their house and their lack of cash, one would never know just how much property was in Jacques' family. Growing up, it made him angry that they didn’t just sell some of it. They really could be rich. His grandparents and his father refused to listen to him. Eventually, he found out the reason why the property had to stay with the family.

He made his way to the lone pier on their land. A dilapidated boardwalk that jutted out into the bayou just enough to tie up a pirogue. The old oak trees, dripping with Spanish moss, all but hid the pier from view - both from the rutted lane and from the water. One had to know it was there to find it.

Just the way the family wanted it. Kept out curious folk who didn’t need to be nosing around.

Henri, Jacques’ father, had been after him for many months to fix some of the boards so they weren’t such a hazard. Jacques didn’t see the need for the effort. It was only the two of them and Mr. Beau who ever used the pier.

“Pride,” his father said. “Pride in what you have.”

Pride?

In what I have?

What a joke! was always Jacques’ response.

Jacques pulled the truck into the tall grass to allow for his father to get his truck by shortly when he went to do his business. His father would be out all night deep into their property, which of course was what started their argument.

Jacques climbed out of the cab and slammed the rusted door. Slamming was the only way the thing would latch properly. He walked to the end of the pier and sat, dangling his legs into the slow moving water. He had pruned a few branches several weeks ago, not enough to make the pier easier to see from the water, but enough to allow him to lay on his back and watch the sky change colors…watch the sky and let his mind wander.

Tonight’s sunset would be gorgeous out in the swamp. While he couldn’t see the horizon, he knew the sun was just touching it. He still had some time before dark. The sky overhead was just beginning to tinge orange. There were puffy clouds, and he looked for animals among the heavens. A sheep. Too easy. That one looked to have a tail. 

Pinks began to creep into view. Jacques’ mind turned from the fanciful to the analytical. There must be quite a bit of pollution in the air to reflect the colors he was beginning to see. The Corporation must have been blasting again.

Oh look a turtle.

“Ooh wee! It musta been a doozie of an argument if yourin out here wallowing.”

“I’m not wallowing. I’m thinking.” Jacques sat up to see Mr. Beau tying his flat bottom skiff to the pier. Mr. Beau was the only one outside of Jacques family that he had ever known to tie up at their pier. He always wondered just how much Beau knew about his family’s business.

“It’s wallowing and it don suit you,” Beau said in his thick Cajun accent. 

Like Jacques’ father, Mr. Beau would slip back and forth between Cajun French and English throughout a conversion. Jacques could follow along just fine but only spoke English himself.

Not meaning to be rude (he had always liked the old fisherman), Jacques laid back and said, “Oh what do you know about it.”

“I knows your PawPaw been dead ninety days now.”

“Yes, I was at the funeral,” Jacques couldn’t believe his own sass.

Mr. Beau ignored it and continued, “Which means you have eleven days to make a decision.”

Jacques shot straight up. Did he know? No one was supposed to know.

“Get in boy,” Beau ignored the stunned look on Jacques’s face and didn’t give him time to ask questions. “It’s time you learned a few tings.”

“Where are we going?” Jacques didn’t move.

“I said get in,” Beau didn’t raise his voice as he untied his skiff, but Jacques was too shocked by Beau’s behavior, and very curious, to refuse the command again.

Jacques was nervous to go out into the swamp at night. People may not know about his family’s business, but everyone knew, or thought they knew about what kept them away from the swamp at night. Mr. Beau was only one of two people that the townspeople knew could venture out into the swamp at night and return; and the other hadn’t been seen in some time.

Sitting in the skiff amongst the netting, Jacques’ nerves began jumping more and more the deeper that they went. When the two men had moved deep into the swamp, not speaking to each other, Jacques thought he saw a floating light off in the distance.

Jacques found his voice whispering as he asked, “Is it safe?”

“Course not,” came Beau’s quick response, “but you’ll be fine wit me.”

“What are they?”

Beau considered the question for some time.

“I guess I never quite figured that out. Thought it would be rude to ask them.”

Jacques’ mouth fell open.

“You talk to them?”

Beau again paused for a long time.

“No,” was all he said for quite some time. Jacques wasn’t sure what to say next, and then Beau added, “I listen.”

Questions swirled in Jacques’s head…about the lights the townspeople called Le Feu Follet and were scared of, about what Beau knew about his family, about why they were out tonight. He wasn’t sure where to start or if Beau would even answer any more questions, but he finally just asked.

“Where are we going?”

“I got business to attend. Gotta see Mr. Green. Figured maybe a little more information might help you get yo head straight.”

Jacques was about to argue like he did with his dad when Beau added, “Yo daddy is not gonna be happy wit me.”

“Why?”

“Cuz you ain’t supposed to know all dis until you enter the fold.”

“And when is that supposed to be?”

“The first time you take on the beast.”

So, he did know. Jacques found he was somewhat comforted by this if not disturbed. How come Mr. Beau knew about it but didn’t help.

Mr. Beau laughed his soft laugh.

“I knows watcha tinking.” Jacques turned to see Beau smile a sad smile at him. “Hopefully, after tonight it will make a little mo’ sense to you.” Beau turned his eyes to seek his path through the flooded forest.

Jacques loved the swamp. He loved the slow pace it inspired, maneuvering around trees whose limbs dipped into the water, watching for alligators floating in the water and snakes hanging in the trees. He loved the swamp, but he always made it in by dark. Everyone knew Le Feu Follet came out at night and lured anyone who dared be up to no good in the swamp to their deaths. 

Soon Jacques began to think Beau hadn’t been completely straight forward about why he had kidnapped Jacques. He knew the old fisherman was nursing a strained shoulder. It didn’t take long after leaving the pier before Beau had Jacques helping him with the traps. Beau showed Jacques how to pull up the rope hand-over-hand to get the trap to the surface and check what was in it.

“Jus’ like dat,” Beau huffed.

“Just like that?” Jaques disbelieved.

Beau made it look so easy, but Jacques was sweating after one.

“Now dis one.”

Beau didn’t help with this one, and as Jacques pulled hand-over-hand on the rope, Beau got lost in thought.

“Whatchoo knows about da Great Upheaval?”

“What?” Jacques grunted as he pulled left-over-right.

“Mais, da Great Upheaval,” Beau got sassy like he was talking to a four-year-old.

“First came the diseases…uh,” right-over-left, “Then…whew…came the floods and-ugh” left-over-right, “the famine…Humph!” Jacques caught the trap and looked inside. Nothing. What a waste! He strained to let it down slowly. When it was down, he wiped the sweat from his eyes. “Then the wars. And the earth was devastated. Less than a tenth of the population remained.”

Beau made a great show of clapping unenthusiastically before slowly motoring them away. As they motored, Beau watched the trees. The moon was big and bright and gave them plenty of light to navigate safely. 

Beau’s eyes remained focused on navigating as he spoke again.

“Ya learned ya lessons well, boy; but they don’ teach you e’eryting.”

“You mean the crazy legends and myths of how it all started.”

Beau shook his head. “Crazy, yes. Legends and myths…not all.” He paused for a long time. “Mother Nature knew war was-a brewing wit da intent to destroy hu-mans, so she awoke some dat had fallen into legend to be hu-mans’ guides and soldiers when da time for da final battle came.”

Jacques snorted.

Beau glared at him, and Jacques lowered his eyes. 

“And what happened at the final battle? I guess it worked because humans are still here, eh?”

It was Beau’s turn to snort.

“De final battle hasn’t come.”

Beau pulled the skiff into an alcove. The moss was heavy here and dripped right into the water. The skiff bumped up softly against cypress knees, and Jacques reached out to steady himself on one as he turned completely around to check out his surroundings. The sweat on his hands now was from fear and not hard work. The lights were close and all around.

“Beau, should I be here?” Jacques hoped Beau didn’t hear the shake in his voice.

“Jus’ watch an’ listen.”

Jacques sat back down and kept his eyes on the lights that slowly spiraled toward him.

Beau began again.

“Da final battle hasn’t come. Hu-mans can still be wiped out. When de legends firs’ awoke, certain families became safe-keepers. Different tales say different tings. Some say da families were chosen to do dis. Some say da families got stuck wit dem. Some say e’reybody is supposed ta know about dem but don’ wanna know.”

Jacques was listening but was also fascinated by the lights. He had heard they were scary, avenging angels or demons depending on who was speaking. They could kill a man. But Jacques thought they felt warm and welcoming, friendly and safe. Perhaps even soft and cuddly? He reached out a hand to touch one.

“Don’ touch!” came Beau’s sharp rebuke, and Jacques pulled his hand in quickly. 

“What? Why?” Jacques looked back at Beau, but Beau just shook his head.

He went back to his story.

“Howe’er it started. Here is how it is now. I keep Le Feu Follet and the swamp. Yo family keeps the Rougarou. Others have deirs. We watch, an’ we wait, an’ we hope we are ready when da time comes. We pass down our charge to our kin.”

“That’s not fair!”

“It don’ have ta be fair! It’s war!”

“So my dad just had me so he could pass on our family curse?” This was not helping. Jacques was just getting more angry.

Beau reached over and slapped Jacques upside his head.

“Boy! Don’ you e’er doubt yo father’s love. E’ery parent hopes dey are the last generation, hopes udders can step in and help. E’ery time someone tries to get udders to help, it goes bad. Keeping our secrets is da best way.”

Jacques fumed and smarted from the slap. Beau had meant it to hurt, and it did. Beau let him fume.

Finally, Jacques sulked a little less.

“Well, who else is a part of this? If I’m going to have to give my life to protecting these legends, I need to know everything.”

“Ya knows e’eryting ya need ta. Secrets are best kept by dose fully in.” 

Jacques knew Beau wouldn’t budge and say more on that subject. The two sat silently for a while. Jacques wasn’t convinced but continued to watch the lights. He began to notice a pattern they were making. It seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. 

Finally, Jacques exclaimed, “It’s a dance!” at the same time Beau said, “Ah! There’s Mr. Green.”

Jacques attention was pulled from the lights as he looked around for Mr. Green. Beau was leaning over the edge of the skiff and Jacques craned his neck to see. A giant green fish was alongside the boat. And giant almost wasn’t a good description. Green also didn’t quite cut it. The fish was the length of the skiff and glowed neon green. Jacques didn’t know how he had missed it’s approach. 

After a few moments, Beau straightened up and the fish swam a big circle around the skiff to come up alongside Jacques. Jacques leaned over. The fish not only glowed green, but its five eyes glowed gold. Jacques found himself staring into those eyes.

And then Jacques felt like he was falling into those eyes.

He fell and fell and fell. Glowing gold spun all around him. The glow turned to flames. The gold turned to red, and Jacques felt the flames licking him and he screamed in pain. The Beast appeared, blood dripped from his mouth and gripped in his paw was his father’s favorite flannel shirt, shredded and bloody. The smell of blood filled his nostrils. He could taste it. His mind was filled with death and decay.

Le Feu Follets appeared next to him. They provided warmth and comfort. They eased the pain of the flames and calmed the fear that had been coursing through Jacques. Le Feu Follets were beautiful and friendly. Jacques reached out and touched the nearest one.

Jacques screamed with a pain he had never known. He squeezed his eyes shut against it and prayed for his life to end.

And then the pain was gone.

Jacques was laying in the bottom of the skiff. When he opened his eyes, he realized he was drenched in sweat. Beau leaned over him, concern etched in his face. The old fisherman helped him sit up and handed him a water bottle. 

As Beau motored the skiff away from the alcove, he said softly, “I tol’ ya not to touch ‘em.”

Jacques was so confused but didn’t know what to ask. 

The two were silent for a long time. 

It was getting darker. The moon was low in the sky. The sun would rise soon, but there would be some time when the only lights in the swamp were Le Feu Follet. Jacques shuddered. Darkness before the dawn.

As Beau approached Jacques’ pier, he finally spoke.

“Mr. Green says the time is finally coming. Ma daddy always hoped he’d be da one to see the end, but it may jus’ be me. Ya gotta decide if you wit’ us.”

As Jacques stepped off the skiff onto the pier, a different thought occurred to him.

“Mr. Beau, you don’t have children. What’ll you do if ‘soon’ isn’t in your lifetime?”

Beau sighed and looked sadder than Jacques had ever known the man.

“I’m working on that,” is all he said on the subject. Then, “But, son,” and this time Jacques felt the compassion in the word, “what are ya gonna do?”

Jacques looked out into the darkness, in the direction he thought the alcove was. In his mind he still felt the flames and smelled the blood.

“I’ll spend the next ten nights enjoying my freedom.” He paused. “Then it’ll be my turn with the beast.”