11:57 PMC
"Heavy Cross" - Gossip
Author's Note: This is an excerpt to a somewhat revised version of CHAPTER ONE: In Passing from what I call The Oscar Wilde Revise. For those who followed I changed Mojo's name from Rulliel to Leblanc and I've added and switched a lot of the flashback segment as I will continue to do to the story as it progresses hence the name, The Oscar Wilde Revise. Um. Yeah. I guess, here you go. CHAPTER ONE: In Passing
[revised excerpt]
... Behind Nicki, under the yellowish light from the rising sun in the windows, I caught a fleeting glance from Cam; a look I’d never seen in his eyes before. It was neither fear nor reassurance that everything will be okay. Confused and unwilling to argue, I grabbed some shoes and made my way quickly and quietly down the stairs to find Mojo.
Mojo is what voodoo priests and priestesses called Good Ju Ju and despite our obvious discomfort with his family's practices when we visited, James always showed us a good time. We called him Mojo, a name his Grandmother approved of mostly because she was the sole person responsible for making sure he had good ju ju. Since he was a child every year, he had a thorough cleansing from his Grams. She was a witch doctor from the bayous of Louisiana and studied in Haitian Voodoo passed down from her grandmother. Well practiced and a bit on the weird side she offered to cleanse the entire group. We, unable to speak a lick of Creole, watched as Mojo's face took on a sullen look as he apologized. With some obvious discomfort and unable to decline she commenced the ritual.
I don't remember much of the ritual itself but what I do remember was the scent. It was like citrus and spirits and lavender and wine all on fire at once. The colors and smells were a riot to my senses and the smoke made it hard to breathe. Slowly and methodically, the old priestess fell into a trance like she was seeing the spirits she called forth to the circle. Through Papa Legba she called the Loa and Spirits to protect us. The name I remember always, Papa Legba, shed cried out to in her native tongue and every time she did I'd feel my skin tingle. I never was sure if anyone else felt it and if they did, they never said it. The events of that night were something we hardly spoke of because of what happened next.
That night, silently and unawares to anyone but Mojo, she passed. The heat kept me from sleeping when I woke to find him cleaning up her closet and bagging her clothes. His words echoed through my skull in that moment. “She could feel the end coming before we even decided to come down here, she said,” he said while packing. “She wanted it to end it with us. She knew we would need it.” Amid silent tears and frustrated actions, he continued, “She asked the spirits of my family to protect us and she asked for permission to stay longer after passing. In passing she prayed again. I watched while it happened.”
I don't know what brought that memory on in that moment. Maybe the similarity in Mojo's movements this morning to that of when he gathered his grandmother's belongings, or the way the oncoming light from the windows made his massive form look like a shadowy ghost as he organized the duffle bags for our departure. Everything in this instant gave me a sense of de ja vouz. Like I had seen it happen before in some far away dream of mine, like she was watching it happen with me. Afraid of my own superstitious assumptions, I quickly pushed the memory into the smallest part of my mind and focused on the task at hand..."
Fiction: 09/26/09 | Posted By: blu moon | 0 comments | Personal
