The Mask of New Paris ✓

I. The Mcgoldnicks

In the South, people call our lands the Sacred Dry. Saved from the floods, the survivors settled on the peaks that remained on the surface, surrounded by wetland. Islands stuck out of the omnipresent waters and formed a save haven for any one dire in need of a home. It didn't took long until families were running the properties as though no one had experienced the terrible storms that had forced us all away from our roots.

I, for one, had never known anything better than the damp and moist surroundings of the swamps all around Eauville. It was my great-grandfather who had survived the rising of the water and together with his wife and sons had saught safety elsewhere. He had lost two sons and ultimately his wife as well whilst he searched a new homebase for the Mcgoldnicks.

He had found the first settlement of, what would be called, Curker County and funded together with the others what is now the blooming city of Eauville. Eauville became a trading post, an access of commerce. My great-grandfather, Rod Mcgoldnick, jumped on the wagon just in time to start up a decent business, trading fabrics and its processed products all around the bayou. In the year's passing, Eauville expanded and the rest of Curker County soon followed the ambitious track, built on the hope of new beginnings.

In this historical city of Eauville, Rod Mcgoldnick founded the Mcgoldnick family. Our name would always carry some sort of heavy prestige thanks to the genuine nature of that man. His sons, three of five survived the trip to Eauville, followed his lead and as soon as necessary spread out over Curker County to continue with their part of what was becoming of the Mcgoldnick Trade. The oldest, Roman, took North to distribute the loads further into the vast land. The middle son, Noah, remained in Curker County and took over his father's post when great-grandpa Rod came to die. The youngest, Caspar, left on the Creek to seek new purchasers elsewhere. The family never heard of him again.

So my grandpa stayed in Eauville, he took care of the business until it was his time to pass on the authority over the trade to one of his children. As the oldest son, my papa, John Mcgoldnick protected the Mcgoldnick Trade against the wealthy businessmen streaming in from the Pays-en-haute, a dry land across the Great Green.

Generally in Curker County, we distrusted folks from the other side of the Green. Perhaps, because of the fact that we knew so little about them. Despite being only seperated by the condense vegetation of the Green, the parts where the force of the Creek was too weak to destroy the greenery, few made the trip to other dry lands. We only heard bits and pieces of rumours and stories businessmen and traders transferred on the motorised bayou skiffs that connected us.

Not a single family from the Pays-en-haute had decided to settle here, and likewise no one from Curker County thought about leaving the place. In fact, even the traders didn't stay longer than necessary. The citizens of Curker County valued family more than anything, having been drilled from the moment our ancestors escaped the floods, that only family matters. Even Eauville, the bigger city of Curker County, was a close community where everyone knew everyone. And so everyone knew about the Mcgoldnick offspring that ran around town these days.

My older brother, Michael, had joined the army and was positioned somewhere West, at the dry land of Amite. Although he does have a great sense of honor and duty, the sisters mostly assume he fleed our mother who had been running around town looking for the perfect daughter in law.

Irène, my oldest sister, married the son of the mayor and although she was still residing in Eauville, she barely visited us at home. She was busy supporting her husband and accompanying him on his social obligations which left her often too tired to make the trip down our pathway.

That left only Judy and I to cause havoc around. We are about to do just that when my father comes around the corner of our house and finds us squatted on the jetty behind. We hear his heavy footsteps on the wood and quickly let go of our pover catch. The frogs quack one more time before they jump back into the safety of the water. Judy stands up and immediately faces papa, innocence displaying on her chubby cheeks. I follow, cleaning my hands on the fabric of my skirt before he notices the droplets.