Mardi Gras
“Voodoo isn’t real,” Sam Ethol, 16 year old high school student said to his best friend, Stevie Lacriox as the two sit outside the Chow Pow, a popular dinner in New Orleans, LA.
“Come on, Sammi you really gonna stand here and tell me you don’t believe in magic?,” Stevie Chuckled as he drunk his 8 oz glass of sweet tea.
“That’s what, I’m telling you, Stevie”
As the two teenagers discussed their beliefs in the supernatural a large, over weight man with dark skin and a bald head came toward them with a bus boy tub and dropped it on the table between them.
“Alright, break times over.”
“Come on, house we still got ten minutes left.” Sam complained.
“Ya know we got a huge rush cause of Mardi Gras. We aint got time to diddle daly. Now get.”
“Oh well,” Stevie complained.” Another day, another quarter.”
“Watch it, Croix. Just cause your daddy is in office, don’t think you can bad mouth how I pay my help.”
“She thong, House.”
“Come on, Stevie Sam said, pulling out a white apron them the bus tub before grabbing at second one to toss to Stevie. Let’s go get this quarter.”
Vibrant sounds of triumphant and harmonicas filled the air as Sam and Stevie fastened their aprons greeted multiple customers who were in toxicated by the vivatous sound of New Orleans.
Stevie grabbed a second bus tub to clear move tables when an unsettling figure spotted him from a far.
“Crap,” Stevie said as he maneuvered away from the overweight, Ked haired man in a white business suit. The young man walked through the crowd until he bumped into Sam.
“Easy, bro.”
“Sorry man. I just saw you know who in the crowd.”
“Again?” Sam said as he looked around to find the intimating man.
“Hey bus boys,” A blond haired middle age woman called from the dining hall window. “ The cooks need the trash token out for the feast we gotta fix up.”
“Bro, can you get this one for me? I don’t want to bump into to that creep.” Stevie asked.
“I got it, Shirley.”
Sam fist bumped Stevie before putting away his bus tubs and walking into the kitchen.
The dread looked teenager moved put the cooks, frantically scurrying around the kitchen to finish their large quantity of food.
“Appreciate the hassle, Sammy.” Shirley says.
“What I do best, Boss lady.”
Sam tied the large bag of trash before lifting it up and haunting the heavy sack outside.
The young bus boy carried the garbage away to the dumpster several feet from the restaurant when an ceric chill flowed down his spine.
“Who’s there?”
Sam turned around gazing around his surroundings only to find nothing but the empty valley way behind him.
Get it together Ethel. Sam thought to himself.
“Sammi” a chilling voice uttered his name but when the young man look over his shoulder, he found nothing.
“It’s getting too crazy out here. I should….
Before he could finish his sentence, a divesting twister composed of green spirits yelling in agony as Sam was trapped inside.
The dread lock teenager fell to the floor. His mouth wide open yet not a single word escaped it and his chest beating repetitively at an uncase pace.
Sam shut his eyes, tilling his head from the bizarre phenomenon until the painful screams ceased.
As he cautiously opened his eyes, Sam saw that the vortex was gone.
“Not again”
Just as Sam stood up from the abnormal menace, a woman’s scream penetrated the air.
Sam ran inside to find the kitchen covered with blood and the corpses of the chiefs a dropped over the kitchen.
Across from Sam, the door leading to the main floor of the restaurant was broken open, occupied by the mass volume of the local socialites now reduced to lifeless husk.
“Stevie…, House… Shirley…” Sam yelled for any possible survivors.
“But as the dread locked teenager walked inside with his heart beating like a drum and his legs wobbled with every corpse he that he passed.”
He looks up to the wall across from kitchen entrance and finds and unsettling message in blood.
Take the throne, Voodoo Child
