House of the Angels

“Ya’ll sure we should be doing this?” Eugene asked as he helped untie the boat from its post.

“Will you relax Eugene?” Andy told him. “It’s not a big deal. We’ll be back at sundown.”

“But what if we get eaten by a gator?” Eugene asked him as he climbed into the small motorboat.

“There ain’t no chance in hell we’ll get eaten by a gatah.” Eddie replied, adjusting his ball cap. “Just don’t go and git yourself stuck to a kelpie nah.”

Eugene rolled his eyes. In all the years he had lived with Eddie, he still couldn’t understand his nearly incomprehensible English.

Eddie was very different from everyone in Angel Manor. He had been born Vicksburg, much further north in the next state, to a poor cotton farmer and a medicine woman who was rumored to have had strange powers over the earth. Eddie’s hair was a ruddy, rusty brown, his face fair but lightly tanned from the sun and his green eyes set deep within his head. His jeans and yellow flannel shirt were stained by mud while his steel toed boots had clearly seen better days.

Andy on the other hand could’ve been mistaken for Eddie’s twin brother but he spoke much better English. His hair was dark blonde and his eyes as blue green as Lake Pontchartrain. His baggy jeans and flannel shirt smelled of the woods while small lines of faintly grown stubble lined his jaw. Never did he go anywhere without Eddie and never did Eddie go anywhere without him. They were inseparable as friends.

“Shall we go?” Andy smirked.

“Let’s git huntin’!” Eddie declared.

They fired up the boat and set out along the river, past the houses and buildings all along the riverbank. The river was brown, unlike the deep blue green that flowed beneath Pelican Bridge and forests of reeds, cattails and lily pads grew just off the banks. Crickets and frogs began to chirp as the sun sank lower and lower on the thin line of the horizon while fishermen and their friends, wives and children brought in the fresh catch of the day.

The metal boat cruised along at a good speed, the cool breeze rustling through their hair and cooling them down after a long day out in the heat. The scent of wet dirt and rotting vegetation was all around them while Eddie’s small radio blasted Mississippi Queen from its speakers.

“Here’s the spot!” Andy called out to Eddie over the noise of the radio and the motor.

“Round the cornah?!”

“Just around the bend!”

Eddie carefully steered the boat around the riverbend until they came to a quiet little area, known to be a good fishing spot and favored by children as a swimming hole for no weeds grew at the bottom. Six smooth flat-topped rocks as smooth as freshly spun silk, stuck up out of the water while sparse trees and grasses poked their green tops above the surface.

“The swimmin’ hole? Really Andy?” Eddie questioned.

“Best place to go and catch us a catfish dinner.” Andy grinned.

“Yeah but where are the hooks and lines?” Eugene asked.

Eddie and Andy laughed at the nineteen year old’s question. Eugene was baffled. Surely they would have to use hooks and lines to catch the fish wouldn’t they?

“No hooks, no lines.” Andy explained. “Use nothing but your hands.”

“Oh boy oh boy,” Eddie said excitedly. “I can’t wait to catch me some catfish!”

Eugene thought they were insane. Some of those fish weighed up to seventy pounds when fully grown and once they had a hold of someone’s hand they wouldn’t let go.

Andy stripped off his red and grey flannel shirt along with his shoes and socks, leaving them behind in the boat. Years of hard work had made him lean as a cat while on his broad back appeared a tattoo of black angel wings. Almost everyone in the house had them, the girls included, but woe to those who dared to test them. What appears on the flesh is not always as it seems.

Andy jumped feet first into the water, sending a cool spray up into the air before he bobbed back to the surface. The water was much warmer than he had anticipated, not boiling hot but warm enough to cool him down.

“C’mon guys!” Andy called to them. “Get in!”

“Oh hell yeah!” Eddie said as he stripped off his shirt.

The three of them stripped down to the waist and jumped into the warm water of the river, letting it envelop their bodies before swimming towards the riverbanks.

“Ya sure this is where we’ll find dinner?” Eddie asked.

“I’m sure of it.” Andy told him.

Andy, Eddie and Eugene dug their hands into the soft, squidgy wet muck at the edge of the river, their hands searching for any signs of life that may have buried itself in hidden dens and muck holes.

“Feel anythin’?” Eddie asked as he and Andy struggled to keep their heads above the waterline.

“Nope.” Andy replied. “Nothing yet.”

“How do we know when we’ve got one?” Eugene asked, shaking the water from his smooth black hair.

“Oh you’ll feel it trust me.” Andy assured him.

The three of them sucked in a deep breath and sank under the water. The noises of the surface world soon gave way to the muffled vibrations of the river as the trio felt their way around to find the catfish that loved to nest in that part of the river. They chose to spawn their eggs inside the muck holes where the riverbed dropped off down into the water, making them easy for fishermen to catch for their dinners or to sell at the market place.

“Holy shit!” Eugene cried out as they broke to the surface. “Holy shit!”

“What’s happenin?” Eddie asked, his Mississippi drawl as choppy as the river.

“Mud cat’s chomping on my arm!” Eugene cried out. “Mud cat’s chomping on my arm!”

“Holy shit!” Eddie exclaimed. “Ya got a ten poundah!”

“Eddie you stupid hillbilly!” Andy half yelled. “Help him out of the hole!”

Eddie laughed as he helped Eugene haul a ten pound catfish out of its hole. The fish flopped and wriggled as they wrestled to get it into the boat, the fish’s mouth wide opened and engorged around Eugene’s arm.

“One in the boat,” Eddie remarked. “Nineteen left to catch.”

Andy, Eddie and Eugene caught fish after fish with their bare hands, hauling them up into the boat until they had caught the desired number. Spawning season would soon be upon them and with them the number of catfish in the rivers would increase.

“Well I’d call that a good catch if I do say so myself.” Andy remarked, looking at the pile of fish that seemed to weigh the boat down slightly.

“Sybilla’ll be mighty happy when we show her.” Eddie added as he started up the boat. “Nothin’ beats her homemade catfish dinners.”

“Except her frog legs.” Andy informed him. “Fry’em up, serve them over some rice and a side of hot peppers….”

He had to stop himself from thinking about it. They were all starving and desperate to get home to prepare the fish.

As soon as Eddie started up the boat, they turned and headed for home. Night had fallen on the bayou and with it would soon come the peepers that chattered away all night….and something else.