A Letter for the Bayou

by Craig A. Strickland

About the Author: Craig A. Strickland has published two nationally-distributed books for middle readers: Scary Stories For Sleepovers #8 and Scary Stories From 1313 Wicked Way. He has an e-book on FICTIONWISE and a podcast tale online at PSEUDOPOD. He has appeared in three volumes of Chicken Soup for the Soul and has stories in several magazines and anthologies.

Excerpt

“Green shadows she prowls.”

The line was not meant to describe anything literal. Yet I’d barely written it before my neighbor girl stole, as if cued, into her overgrown backyard. She passed stunted pines and wildflowers and headed toward the canyon rim of Turtle Bayou. Two fingers held aloft the hem of her dress; in the other hand she carried a sheet of paper.

Melodica, I recalled, was her strange name.

I set aside my poem-in-progress and stilled the rocking of my chair. The child was about seven, blonde, her skin a translucent white. This was the first time I’d seen her in daylight.

The ethereal creature paused at the chasm-edge, a spot of pale against a riot of greenery. Realizing her peril, I stood to shout, but she raised the paper so theatrically that my warning cry died in my throat. To interrupt would have been akin to yelling during a tender moment in a play.

She released the paper, sending it toward the bayou, far below. For seconds her hand remained out, fingers splayed as if waving farewell. The page sawed itself to and fro, descending to the ends of the vines which wept from the canyon rim, then disappeared into the verdant darkness—no doubt to join the mats of water lilies floating at the bottom.

I could not help but be charmed by the romance of mailing a letter into thin air. But was it a game, another symptom of the girl’s eccentricity, or—something else?

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