Voodoo Queens of New Orleans - Vol. II | In Progress

Chapter Fourteen: Token of Entry

            The cages were unlocked, and all of the women began to file out and step into the boats like it was routine. I stood at my cell gate, staring at the waterway and the boats swaying as women stepped inside them.

Stick close to Saadia. I walked towards the boats before the Gatekeeper could push me forward for lollygagging. She seemed like the most put together one out of all the girls here. Everyone else had this sad, dragging stare to them—rightfully, so. This place was dreary and dark and none of us belonged here. But it wasn't about that. It was about their strength. And although these girls probably had some fight in them, they weren't strong enough. They didn't have the will. Saadia, however, had will. I could tell, just by talking to her briefly. I would stick close to her.

I was directed into a boat with four other women, and luckily, Saadia was one of them. I sat on the farthest end near the tail, next to her. I kept my head down and my mind quiet. I couldn't afford for any of these Gatekeepers to catch wind of my plan and keep me from her. When all of the girls were accounted for, the Gatekeepers stepped into the boats and proceeded to detach from the dock. The boat swayed with his heavy rhythm; I could feel the damned spirits underneath us, their essence caressing the underbelly. I wondered if anyone had accidentally fallen into the bayou and were unfortunately devoured as a result. I wagered it happened often, but I didn't want to be the next victim; feeling their hands around my ankles as they tried to consume me was enough.

The Gatekeepers steered these boats gently, bringing us directly into what were known formally as the Waterways. The main waterway was the one I was most familiar with—the widest canal, the most populated one, and the one that I had taken every time I had visited Sajida in the past. There were many shacks and cabins spread around the edges of the canal and even on land masses in between, these steads seemingly being eaten alive by the moss and sword grass. I remembered there being people who lived here—all different walks of life, but they all had one thing in common: they had those bright, glowing eyes. The ones that I had now. Only this "absence of self" affected them differently than it affected me and the women in the boats—it seemed these residents were completely void of sentience. Completely void of consciousness. They were practically zombies. They stood around, staring aimlessly at you in their doorways or while sitting in their rocking chairs. They smoked their cigarettes and stared at us. Some of them were glaring and even pointing at us while whispering.

I felt out of place in the clothes I was wearing. Everyone was dressed similarly—in clothes that were plain, homely, put together by hand. Not everyone was dirty. Some people looked bathed and well put together, given the circumstances. I, however, was filthy, as were all of us in these boats. I was the only one in black leather from head to toe, sweating profusely underneath. The others' clothing was thin and breathable.

We took a left down a narrow canal, the foliage growing thicker and invading more of the water's space. Our Gatekeeper navigated through the floating Spanish moss slowly, and eventually, the canal expanded and breathed life into a verdant expanse. And at the end, a house on stilts stood right above the water, surrounded by cypress knees and with lean yet crown-dense trees standing tall behind it. Sunlight fought to get through in this area; I was thankful for this, because it made it a little more bearable to sit in this leather death trap, but it also shaded this house in a protective way; the sun, trying it's best to break through, only managed to barely filter through the leaves, creating this dim yet tranquil glow. I looked around; shoulders relaxed. Frowns disappeared. But I didn't give myself the luxury of feeling safe yet.

The dock sat right below the house. There was a staircase connected—three flights of steps to reach the front door. The Gatekeeper anchored the canoe, and one by one we got off the boat. I looked around—five women: Me, Saadia, a woman a little older than I, and two that looked to be around my mama's age. They purposefully didn't look at me, and when I came to realize this, I forced myself not to stare at them.