“Old woman, old woman, wake up,” oozed the voice. Grandma Defeaux slowly opened her eyes to a horror. Standing in front of her bed was a rotting Confederate soldier covered in seaweed, surrounded by a green glow. As her eyes became more focused, she saw the soldier’s face was that of a wolf. Her voice hung in her throat, right beside her heart. “Old woman, you tell Bo, Albert and Elizabeth to not disturb my resting place, or else!” The ghastly apparition turned and left. Ms. Defeaux found her voice and let out one scream after another. A large porch separated the Landrum and Defeaux living quarters. The sound of the screams drifted over to the Landrum’s side, waking Claire and Lawson.
Claire and Lawson quickly exited the house together and rushed across the porch. The screaming continued even as they entered Ms. Defeaux’s bedroom. When Lawson turned the light on, it illuminated a terrified old woman, wide eyed in fear, with the covers pulled up around her face.
“Mama, what’s wrong?” Claire asked as she tried to examine her mother. The older woman stopped screaming when she realized that her family was in the room. She started madly jabbering in Cajun-French, as she often did when she was excited. “Slow down, Mama. I can’t understand you,” Claire’s soft voice urged.
The old woman kept repeating one phrase over and over, “da rougarou”.
“Mama, what’s a rougarou?” Lawson asked.
“She must have been dreaming,” whispered Claire.
“Do you know what she means?”
“There’s an old Cajun lore of a person that can change forms. Most involve a wolf or a dog. Mama would tell me stories of the creature to get me to behave when I was young. There’s no such thing.” Claire kept patting her mother to calm her down. “Mama, you had a bad dream. It’s alright.”
“Nah, nah, it da rougarou. He dress like Civil Wah wid da wolf face. He say fa Bo, Albert, and ‘Lizbeth to disturb him nah.”
“Mama, you were dreaming.”
“Nah, he wa hea dripping wid da seaweed.”
“Mama, there are wet boot prints in the room as some pieces of seaweed on the floor,” interrupted Lawson.
Claire turned, not really expecting to see anything. Her knees got weak when she realized that something or someone had been in their home.
“I’m getting grandpa’s pistol and carbide lantern to see if I can find anything,” Lawson said.
“Please be careful Son,” Claire urged.
Lawson found the lantern, added some water, and ignited the flame. He dug through the china cabinet drawer for the old Colt 1911 pistol. Checking the clip, there were seven .45 caliber cartridges loaded and ready for action. Lawson followed the wet footprints into the woods and then picked out depressions in the sandy soil made by boots. The trail led to a sand bar on the edge of the bay. Prints became very clear in the sand. The footprints went right off into the water. Lawson shined the light out over the water to see if the bottom could be illuminated. The prints continued on the bay’s bottom as far as the light could shine. A shiver went down Lawson’s spine as he thought of what his grandmother had said. He wanted to be back home, but dreaded turning his back to whatever was out there in the water. Spanish moss danced ever so gently in the breeze causing imaginary monsters in every tree. Shadows hid the unknown just out of the ring of light. Slowly backing up the sandbar to the wood line, Lawson turned and ran as fast as he could back home.