Dionysia

Prologue

He could see the bright lights, as if they were calling out to him. Loud footsteps through Broadway Street seemed to be following him, no matter how far he ran. Far in the distance, across railroad tracks and lamp posts, was that bright light reflected off the moon. Was it guiding him to paradise?

Nah, they're just siren lights.

He kept his pace, trailing the faint darkness instead of the police cars. Making sure to keep hidden under the shadowed housings and savannah-esque trees, he found a patch of hanging moss next to a fence. It was tall enough to cover him in darkness, as well as what he was carrying.

Breathing in and out was vital. It was the only way to calm himself, but he made sure to keep it quiet. Even the slightest ruffle of his brown paper bag could alert the dogs.

How he wished to just travel down Broadway without having anything to fear. Just across from him was the Lambeth House, where he could spend the rest of his retired life merrily.

I could swim in their pool, visit their hair salon, go golfing with my friends, an' take my grandkids to the zoo. An' then I would go to sleep in a room full of fancy decorations and a cozy bed.

I'd need money for that.

Then, he heard the sirens blaze by Broadway. He ceased his thoughts and focused on breathing.

In...and out. In...and out. In...and-

Fuck! This cane't be happening. It cane't fucking be!

Clenching the paper bag was one thing but holding a bloodstained knife in his other hand was too much. What if the dogs could smell the blood?

He crouched down to the ground, holding his grunt in and the pain from his legs. He continued to dig through the dirt until he made a big enough hole, placing the knife inside and covering it back up. He worried that the hole wasn't made well, as someone could trace the blood to his if the knife were found.

Don't think. Stop thinking.

He was too afraid to peer beside the tree, worried that a dog would find him right away. Their continuous barking pierced his eardrums, and he could sense them getting closer. Meanwhile, their policeman followers lounged around with sleep-deprived faces.

But he could not rest, else he'd face many years in prison.

Another sound came, and it was from behind him. Turning around silently, he saw a wife and husband open the door and stand beside the porch, wondering what the commotion was. They looked displeased, considering how late at night it was.

"It's 2 in the damn mornin'!" The husband yelled out to one of the policemen, pointing his wrinkled finger at him. The policeman grabbed hold of his leash, trying to calm down the enraged couple.

"Terribly sorry," he said coolly.

The policeman then attempted to explain the situation to them, but that wasn't important. There just needed to be an opportunity where he could escape from the tree to the railroad tracks. Once he crossed the tracks and reached the shoreline, he would be safe.

Then there was a voice, soft and soothing, and it was his mother's lullaby about the Mississippi River. The river trekked across the southern border for so long, coming to a halt at the beautiful Gulf Coast. He knew how much she loved the Coast, as that was her passageway to a new life in the U.S. It was by choice that she came to Louisiana, as well as the consequences that followed.

The shoreline...

"Is the place that decides your fate," his mother had said to him, the words resonating with his stilled breathing. "I think of it as Purgatory, where what you choose to do in life decides whether you'll reach land or go down underwater. What will you do, Dennis?"

He couldn't decide which way he'll go.

Do I take the Leake St left, or cross the neighborhood to the right? Leake is the faster way to the shoreline, but it's riskier. I could stay hidden in the neighborhoods, but that'd make more time for the cops to search for me. Shut up, ma!

There was no way that he'd sink here, after all that he accomplished and worked so hard for. He risked jailtime every time he started up the tugboat, and that determination was what kept his focus. Now, he couldn't even hold his breathing properly.

In...and out. In...and out. Stop talking!

Everything was supposed to go to plan. Everyone was supposed to do their jobs. Why then, were the cops chasing him? Wasn't there something better in the life he wanted, after all the devastation he and his family suffered?

He heard the dogs barking again, creeping closer to him. Taking a deep breath, he bolted towards the railroad tracks, the tugboat his ticket out of the hurricane approaching.

Sirens blazed. They had found him, but he was closer to the dock, where the tugboat was. As he ran towards the Mississippi, flashes of light emanated in the shoreline. Dazed, he tripped over the railroad tracks, stumbling on to open grass.

The light grew brighter, like a calling. It poured through his eyes. He realized he had played his part in this tragedy, so this was probably where his character met his demise. Dennis only hoped there'd be a happy ending for it.