Old Hierarchy. New Queen.
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"The Devil's in the house of the rising sun"
New Orleans, Louisiana.
A city that has always been deeply submerged in folklore, in the myths and legends of monstrous beings. Tales of ghosts roaming the cobbled s...
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New Orleans. Always on the edge of chaos.
Cursed from the day it was built, there's always been a darkness that hung over the city. Sweeping through street after street, neighborhood after neighborhood. Bellowing like invisible smoke from the Bayou to the end of the Mississippi river. An eerie stillness you could feel in your bones that came rain or shine. A promise of worse things to come. But when the darkness is constantly overhead, darkness you become.
When I was young, instead of telling me stories of castles and princesses, my father would tell me the histories of such a tragic city. How, from the darkness, came the monsters. Those who thrived in the darkness of the cursed city. How it became home to our nightmares. He would tell me how easy it was for them to scheme and pillage, hunt and kill.
He particularly focused on the stories of those that turned into beasts residing in the French Quarter, the night stalkers under the skyscrapers in Treme, the snakes across the river in the Algiers, or even the fire birds of Mid-City. And as overtime, the monsters, beastly and savage, would evolve. Train. Learn. Rise. After all, they don't lurk in the shadows anymore. They are no longer shackled to the darkness. They enjoyed playing human.
In hindsight, I was only a child. I wouldn't begin to understand his stories until long after he passed. But if I got one thing from his endless tales, it was that you can expect a monster to always act like a monster.
