DEAD WINTER: A CRYPTIC Anthology

Maggie's Edge of Midnight Ghost Tour • Lynn Santiago

I love winter. The crowds diminish, but everyone is so much into having fun, they lay down their guard and become easy pickings.

Take my latest. I found him nosing around the Cotton Exchange, being rude to all God's creatures. Before anything is said on his behalf, drunk as a skunk is not an excuse.

Being New Year's, he decided to dress for success. It had been unseasonably warm in Georgia. Therefore, my sorry new friend had the best reason to wear the mild weather equivalent of an ugly holiday sweater.

He went for black from head to toe, interrupted by obnoxious bleeding patterns in his t-shirt that read "Have a Murderous Christmas and a Hellish New Year." A couple of red horns peeked from the side of a jolly old hat tilted over the "M", in case someone missed on the punny side of things. That made me chuckle. Most Satanists I know are quiet, no nonsense folk.

After all, this is Savannah.

There he was, all alone in one of those few nights in which company is instinctively craved after. Bless his soul... trying to uncover the secrets of the red brick Freemasons' hall with the camera shutter of his smart phone, and being loud and unruly on top. No one, no one flips the bird to the nice trolley drivers working ungodly hours and walks away unscathed. They do enough driving those orange and green monstrosities down streets meant for horse and carriage, all to keep us from twisting an ankle.

A classic move was needed. Stumbling upon him, hand raised to my chest in surprise, I made that first eye contact. There was also a point in brushing aside the small golden cross that rested bellow my collarbone, just to see if his eyes got distracted by... shiny.

"Oh, my! I didn't see you there! Apologies."

"And what do we have here?" He said, as if begging for an audience. "I found me a sandal wearing, sweet tea drinking, church going Southern girl. Just like the doctor ordered." He had a saucy smile, and there was a sweetness of liquor slipping through his pores, something infused with apple pie and cinnamon sticks that proved him young and tricked him into thinking he could hold his liquor. It was almost enough to feel sorry.

"Oh, I like men that are straight up about what they want." No. I didn't. It was rude, but it was worth letting it slip. Introducing myself as Maggie, I let him know that my given name is Magnolia, but I rather leave that to the trees. He laughed out loud and I smiled with my mouth closed, aiming for endearing.

"And so, Satan's Little Helper." I stretched that o in "so" as much as I could, making sure he'd understand I didn't care for introductions in return. The sight of relief in his face was worth a million bucks. "What are you doing on your own in New Year's Eve? Here on vacation, I bet. It's all fun until people start huddling up for midnight cuddles and you haven't hooked up yet." I repaid that directness of him with a little nudge of my own, leaving aside my thoughts on his fashion sense. After all, I wanted him to sign on my tour.