*Tshis is a work in progress. Edits and suggestions are more than welcome*
Lester was a simple man from the backwoods of South Mississippi and when at the ripe old age of 18 just after being handed his high school diploma, his father decided that Lester, despite near perfect grades, and a full scholarship waiting in the wings had gone to school long enough and was needed to help out around the family farm, Lester never even thought to dispute these turn of events as he really never had much ambition beyond the farm itself. This was just the way of things and now at the ripe old age of 36 long after both his parents passed peacefully into the beyond as Lester called it, the sprawling farm was simply a part of Lester himself.
The only detour Lester made before settling into farm life was to fulfill his patriotic duty as an American and enlisting in the United States Marine Corps just like his grandaddy and maybe even to get a dig in at his own father who served his time proudly in the US Army and wasted no time good naturedly ribbing his son by leaving a box of crayons beside his plate at the supper table. With those duties fulfilled, Sgt. Lester Boudroix returned home, dumped the sands of the middle east from his combat boots, threw his collection of medals in an old cigar box and placed both in the very back dark corner of his bedroom closet. As far as he was concerned he had fulfilled his patriotic duties and that chapter of his life was over.
Lester was more than just a little happy about returning home, where he instinctively knew should be, to wait patiently for whatever was to come. It was the same instinct told him something was coming soon, he'd known it since he was knee high to a grasshopper riding his horse, Elvis, thru the trail that snaked windingly thru the dense forest of towering pine trees rich with a abundance of animals, both predator and prey. It would be in those quiet moments while LJ was enthralled with the fantasies of most normal 8 year old boys, allowing his mind to wonder over the outcome of a battle between the Incredible Hulk and The Amazing Spiderman that a voice would intrude quickly and quietly into his thoughts, telling him he needed to prepare and whispering instructions that were both facinating and confusing. During these "extra" events he would notice that even the birds and crickets would go silent, lending an ominous air to the normally peaceful woods around him. Elvis' ears would flick back toward his head and he'd sidestep nervously nostrils flaring as if sensing a predator. Only his love for his boy and a gentle nature kept the horse from bolting back toward the safety of his stable where he knew there would be a nice trough of sweet feed and the relative safety of a sturdy wall between his tender horseflesh and the danger filling his senses. Even LJ could feel a chill come upon the air and a sense of evil, as if the devil himself roamed his perimeter waiting for an opening, watching for any weakness within LJ's moral compass that could lead the boy astray.
He'd never questioned the voice in the back of his mind that whispered to him that he would one fight to protect his farm, his farm his life and the very souls of almost everyone in his community. It really didn't matter to him where this knowledge came from all that mattered was that he didn't fail in his duties. In Lester's eyes, paradise was the sprawling 360 acres of land that had been passed down from generation thru his family since the Louisiana Purchase and those families in his community who could also boast of a local lineage as long as their very forearm were a part of that paradise.
In his opinion what was not to love, rolling pasture land with the grass swaying in the wind gave way to towering pine trees bordering the Beinville National Forest as if hiding her secrets from the world beyond. The sprawling spring fed 100 acre lake just over the first ridge behind his simple ranch style home, provided both water for the many species of animals who wandered over much of the fenced in pasture land as well as recreation for local fishermen, boaters and swimmers alike. Yep, ol' Lester could have maybe had a mansion on a hill on the outskirts of a big city somewhere but he knew instinctively that nowhere but the family farm would bring him the peace he felt in his soul as he looked out past his back porch while munching on a powdered sugar covered begniet and sipping his morning coffee, Chicory of course, and gazing the first pink and purple rays of sunrise cresting the horizen of his bayou. All the while his mind sorted absently thru the many chores he needed to begin or finish to keep the farm productive.
Unfortunately for Lester, his Acadian and Celtic ancestry had to him passed gifts that he didn't necessarily understand or want. Lester could see the thoughts and intention of others. He could also see spirits and hear the voices of those he loved calling to him for help, both those 2 miles away, from thousands of miles away and even from the beyond. Most of the times Lester considered his gifts part of daily life. He'd learned long ago not to mention his "extras" as he called them and most people in Jasper County just took it for granted that he was a little touched. If LJ called and told someone that a recently passed relative or friend wanted him to pass a message they simple asked to hear the message. If he walked up to a farmer at the feed store and told you not to ride the new tractor that day to plow the back forty, the farmer usually decided to tackle a different project that day. Lester's talents, whether he was taking a blue ribbon at the county fair for his watermelon moonshine or warning of a crop destroying hail storm, were simply a fact of life in the rural farm community. Life wasn't perfect, it never is but it was good for most.
Well, life was pretty good until the day the Bruja showed up, moving right on into her great aunt's old abandoned victorian home like she owned the place, which technically she did but that fact didnt make her any less of an outsider and the Pineville community had no use for outsiders even if she did look as if she stepped straight from the pages of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition. Virginia Love had no business in Jasper county and the locals were already taking bets around crowded domino tables as to how long it would be before the slip of a city girl turned tail and ran back to the convience of Chinese take out and all night corner stores.
The End of Chapter 1
to be continued...
*Previously published at writecoapp
©Gypsiblu
