Lost (11)

Up in the attic in an abandoned house in a neighborhood called Desire sits an antique wooden chest with brass hinges and a steel lock. The key to the lock left with the tenent, after the destruction of the flood the tenent never returned.

Some speculated that the old man moved in with family in Texas, others believed he would never leave his family home and Katrina washed him away. If anyone had bothered they would have found that the waterline did not reach the attic, but only to the top of the second floor. If anyone had the time or resources they would have found that the attic held not only a treasure chest of ten generations of costumes, photos, and heritage of life in New Orleans from the days of tribes and slaves, but also the skeletal remains of the Water Chief.

The Fire Chief had begged his brother Chief to secure his flamboyant orange, yellow and red feathered ceremonial costume from the coming flood, if anyone could do it it would be the Water Chief. The two men exchanged hugs and blessings and the Fire Chief headed to Baton Rouge while the Water Chief walked upstairs to his attic to the chest of memories. After folding both of their Chieftian vestments with care the great man sat down next to the chest and closed his eyes. He prayed for his brothers, he prayed for his tribe, he prayed for his city, but he did not pray for himself. He was the Water Chief, and he both accepted and was honored that he should die in water.

The man running the bulldozer laughed at the term “Desire”, from his side it didn’t look like anyone would ever desire this neighborhood again. He put on his pair of yellow gloves and began moving the controls that would tear down and destroy the houses that had been condemned and his metal beast chewed through everything in it’s path.

The sacred chest and the remains of a great Chief were chewed up and spit out into a pile of debris, their magic and legend lost forever to the generations yet to come.

In a nearby swamp an ancient alligator rose up from the water and roared a cry of pain.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: