Reminiscing on the Swamp
I wrote this for a writing competition at TFF. I haven't actually heard back from anyone on that, but i decided to go ahead and post it here.
It had to follow the theme of the con, Nights on the Bayou, but I literally know nothing about creole people so I did a little research and faked the rest. Sorry, real cajuns.
"Excuse me, is this where the swamp tour is?" Layla's voice was meek. The elderly alligator sitting in front of the small shack by the dock was massive, so much that even from his chair he was looking down at her. He wore overalls that looked decades old, and was shirtless underneath. His face was jagged and fearsome, but his eyes exuded warmth.
Oui, minou, I am Jean, the tour guide." his voice was deep yet soothing. He looked past Layla as if expecting someone else to be there. "Only you? You're the only customer I've had all day, with Mardi Gras in town."
"I'm Layla. Yeah, it's just me." Layla felt more at ease despite Jean looking like some kind of horror movie stereotype. "If it's not too much trouble..."
"Non, not at all! Just give me a moment." Jean disappeared into his shack. Layla patiently waited, listening to the sounds coming from within. The sound of fabric rustling, something like running water, heavy footsteps, and a clattering sound followed shortly by muffled cursing. After about ten minutes, Jean stepped back out, now wearing blue jeans and a plain red button-up shirt. "Ready to go, mon chére?" Layla nodded. "then follow me, s'il vous pla?t."
They climbed into Jean's fan boat, which could seat eight people plus Jean himself. The operator's seat sat a bit higher than the rest and was placed in front of the large fan. Layla sat two seats in front of Jean on the port side. When Jean had started the engine, she was surprised to find the fan wasn't as loud as she expected. Jean fiddled with the controls for a moment, and they set off at a leisurely speed. "Most groups talk amongst themselves during the tour," Jean said, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the fan, "mais you are the smallest 'group' I've had in a long, long time." he chuckled. "Don't mind some friendly conversation I hope, minou?"
"Not at all." Layla carefully stood up and moved to the seat closest to Jean so they could hear each other more clearly. "Hey, what does that word mean?"
"_Minou?_Pussy cat, of course." Jean carefully guided the boat around a fallen tree. "I have to ask, did you come to the bayou by yourself?"
"Nah, I came with a sorority, but last time I saw them they were at the Mardi Gras parade trying to get free beads." Layla frowned slightly at the thought. She wasn't too fond of her "sisters," but she often had to go along with what they wanted to do to avoid being kicked out. She had given them the slip when they were too drunk to notice her absence.
"Ah, college girl." Jean smiled, which for a gator still looked quite fearsome. "_pourquoi_are you going to school?"
"Well... I'm only a freshman and right now I haven't really decided on a major. I'm mostly focusing on getting core classes done at the moment. Oh, I was thinking about taking French next year, since I'll be in Louisiana for a few years."
_ "Est-ce vrai? Parlez-vous français?"_
"Uh," Layla didn't understand the first question, but was familiar with the second,"not really. A few words here and there, and some phrases, like 'c'est la vie' and 'répondez s'il vous plaît' and 'voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce-" Layla cut herself off, embarassed by what she had just said. Jean guffawed.
"Be careful with that last one, minou," he said with a wink. "You could give someone the wrong idea. Mais, jamais. Do you have someone waiting for you back home?"
"No, I haven't really tried meeting anyone though."
"Ha! People always try looking for love, yet it tends to show up when you aren't looking." Jean pulled a lever and the boat slowed down. "Let me tell you how I met my wife, qu'ell repose en paix. I was about 15, and went for a swim in this bayou- just over there en fait," Jean pointed by a bend up ahead, "and a weed wrapped around my tail. I panicked because I thought it might be a drowned corpse trying to drag me down- I was very superstitious at the time- and rushed to get on shore. There she was, fishing by herself. I saw her, and thought she was the most _magnifique_alligator I had ever seen."
"Sounds romantic!" Layla's voice was filled with awe.
"It would have been," Jean said, looking a bit embarassed, "mais I didn't realize at the time, my trunks had snagged on a root as I scrambled out, and she saw a lot more of me than I would have liked at the time." Jean chuckled. "Ï was so honte! Mais, we fell in love anyway, and I got to have fifty-one years with her... Ah, I hope I don't bore you, mon chére."
_ _ "Oh, not at all. That was a nice story." Jean's voice was like a loving grandfather telling tales to his grandchildren. Layla wondered if he had any, and traced a finger through the murky water, wondering if he would mind being asked.
"Ah, don't do that! You could lose a finger!"
"R-really?" Layla quickly pulled her paw back into the boat.
"Oui,_I had a friend once, _Tit Jaques, who was trying to catch a catfish with his bare paws..."
Layla listened, entranced by his words. Then came another story, this time about Jean's time on the school swim team and some antics his teammates had pulled, and another story where he confirmed he did have grandchildren. With each story Layla felt more and more like she had experienced Jeans life firsthand. Hours passed, but Layla never grew tired of Jean's stories...