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New Orleans

She'll put a spell on you

By Nita OstroffPublished 3 years ago 6 min read
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Bruno Emanuelle - Unsplash

They sat on the patio of one of the world’s most famous coffee shops, watching as the pigeons marched back and forth, intimidating visitors to the Café. While the tourists sat sampling coffee and beignets, the fresh pastries dusted with powdered sugar, the pigeons tried to snag bites of the sweet tasty delights, and drag bits off to their nests.

As evening fell, the temperature cooled slightly. The heat, unbearably sticky during the day even in the month of September, was finally nearly tolerable. The trio sat, talking quietly, watching the crowd thin as a summer storm came over the French Quarter. This was a heavy storm, not the light spattering of rain so common in the early fall in Louisiana. Instead, the rain came down in torrents, chasing the pigeons up into the rafters and causing the remaining revelers to lower their voices and pull their chairs closer together towards the middle of the Café, rather than suffer the needle-like spray that drenched the edges of the veranda and beat a steady tattoo on the roof above.

Sudden squalls in New Orleans are famous for the way they sneak up on happy partiers, and depart just as suddenly. This storm showed no signs of abating, however. Gradually the already small crowd thinned even more. The staff huddled inside the service doors, calling out occasionally to see if any of the stragglers needed anything. Eventually even the heartiest revelers had departed, running down Decatur Street shrieking as the water soaked them to the bone. Only a group of three remained.

She was a beauty, she was. She wore a long burgundy skirt and blouse, with a tan turban and vest. Her skin was the color of the café au lait served around the clock. Her companions were no less striking. One man was paler, seemingly unused to the sun or perhaps to manual labor. The other was darker, a man who was accustomed to working hard, in the fields or on the docks. His muscles suggested he could more than pull his weight when needed. Both men were attractive, though in different ways; neither one was prone to fat, and both were tall and firm.

The woman picked up her cup of coffee, and sipped it thoughtfully. She gazed into the distance, her eyes unfocused. “What are you looking at?” The darker of the two men wanted to know. But she was lost in the mists of her mind, and the downpour surrounding the café.

The two men looked at each other. The paler raised his hand, signaling to the server that it was time for another round of coffee and beignets. The door creaked as the server left the comfort of the kitchen and came to the table. “One each?” he asked. The sound shook the woman out of her reverie. “No….” she replied. “This time, I am thinking perhaps 15, or maybe 20…and there will be children this time.”

She sat her cup down carefully. “What are you staring at?” She turned to the server, who began to quake under her gaze. “Noth…nothing, Miss Laveau.” Lowering his eyes, he backed away, still shaking.

“I want to go to the riverbank.” The paler man, Pere Antoine, smiled slightly at her. “My dear, the rain is insurmountable. It is inadvisable.” Her hand raised slightly, with an upturned palm. “Doctor….there is no cause for worry.” The rain immediately began to slack as Doctor John turned to Pere Antoine. “She is right, Father. My VooDoo Queen is always right.”

The trio pushed back their chairs, gesturing to the intimidated waiter that they were done. “Our account, sir. Please place this on our account, and share it with your friends.” Single file, they headed into the dripping night. From nowhere, Doctor John produced a lantern. There were already patrons filtering into the café, now that the rain had slackened. Off in the distance, the lantern wobbled to and fro, as the trio reached the riverbank.

Doctor John and Pere Antoine flanked Marie Laveau, the New Orleans VooDoo Queen. Silently, they stared out over the Mississippi River. Yes, there it she was. A ship, a steamer, barely illuminated on the horizon by a moon that peered weakly through the still heavy clouds.

“Who is she?”

“She is the Empire, Pere. She will be docking on Conti Street shortly. It won’t be long before the show will begin.”

Pere Antoine nodded. “And the total loss of souls, you say?”

“Fourteen passengers, Pere. Perhaps six crew members. And the greatest loss will be the Captain’s children, who sleep on board.”

Doctor John spoke hesitantly. “And what will the reason be, to hide this loss?”

Marie smiled coldly at him. “There is no reason, my teacher. The papers will report that there was no reason at all for the Empire to sink.” She paused. “The truth is that Captain Jeanfrau’s son was to be a man of destiny. If he had been allowed to live, the Jackson Brewery, which will be built in 1891, never would be built. The town would be dry. No alcohol would be allowed. Instead of being the city it is destined to be, New Orleans would be a world center of science, healing, and the Christian religion.”

Pere Antoine covered himself with the sign of the cross. Even Doctor John seemed to be uncomfortable. “For history to be what it must be, there must be sacrifices. Through the years, there will be thousands of sacrifices. Generations from now, New Orleans will face its greatest challenge when the gods of nature seek to return the city to the sea. They will not be successful, although the city will be torn apart.”

“All of this.” Marie Laveau turned, and swept the horizon with her outraised arm. “All of this will fall prey to the storm, but I promise you this. The French Quarter, and the café where we ate tonight, will remain intact. The town will be rebuilt from the powers of the VooDoo faith and the religion of my ancestors.”

When she turned around, the ship on the horizon was noticeably closer. The Empire was nearing its fate. The ship, heavily loaded with sugar and rice, would port on Conti street soon after midnight. Four hours later, it would lie at the bottom of the Mississippi River. The next day, the Courier Journal of Louisville, Kentucky would carry the story. Eighteen ships met their fate in the port of New Orleans during the 1800s, under the watchful eye of Marie Laveau.

While this story is heavily fictionalized, the mystique of New Orleans is not. To this day, many mysteries remain about Marie Laveau, the VooDoo Queen, her daughter, Marie Laveau II, Pere Antoine, and Doctor John.

For more information on the sinking of the Empire, check out GenDisasters.com and search for the LA Steamer EMPIRE sinking in November of 1874.

supernatural
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About the Creator

Nita Ostroff

Writer, EMT, business manager, DJ....life's too short to stick with one thing. You've got to pack in as much as possible and try it all!

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