Written by J.J. Reneaux

Around La Ville, New Orleans, the land is so low and wet that the dead have to be buried above ground in a vault. Folks don’t bury their dead in a grave in the ground. If the river were to overflow the levee, or a hurricane to flood the land, your loved one might just float back up from the grave and pay you a return visit!

Down the river a little ways from La Ville, there once lived an old man with his only child, a jolie fille called Therese. Her maman had died and Therese was left in the care of her papa, a greedy, miserly man who worked his girl like a mule and dressed her in rags. Though she was of a marrying age, he would not allow any young man to court her. She saw no one except her mean ol’ papa.

All he ever cared for were the gold coins that he kept hidden under a loose board in the floor beneath his bed. Every night he’d lock the door, and by the light of a flickering candle, he’d count his golden coins. He loved the way they clinked and glowed and weighed so heavy in his hands. But poor Therese, she was so lonesome. Every night she’d come knocking on his door, knock, knock. Her papa would yell out, “Who’s there?”

“Papa, c’ est moi,” she’d say. “It’s me, Therese. Papa, let me in, talk with me. I am so lonely.”

But her papa would only holler back at her, “Girl, get on outta here and get back to work. You only wanta get your hands on my gold, and thatta be over my dead body!”

And so it went until one night, knock, knock. “Who’s there?”

“Papa, it’s me, Therese. Me, I’m sick-sick,” she moans. “Papa, let me in!”

But he just yells back, “You lazy good-for-nothin’! Get outta here. You’re not sick. You just wanta get your hands on my money, and thatta be over my dead body!”

Again and again Therese returned to her father’s door, knock, knock. “Who’s there?”

“Papa, c’ est moi. Papa, let me in. I’m bad sick. I need the healer. Please, Papa, send for the traiteur!”

Knock, knock. “Who’s there?”

“Papa, please help me. The pain is worse. Oh, Papa, open the door!”

But her papa’s heart was as cold as his golden coins. At last the girl’s cries faded to silence, and she knocked no more. The old man was full of curiosity, and so he opened the door. There, lying lifeless on the porch floor, was jolie Therese. The old man was too stingy to buy a vault for his daughter. Instead, he laid Therese in a crude wooden coffin and buried her in a shallow, swampy grave down by the cypress tree.

The neighbors all shook their heads. They warned there would be trouble. How could poor Therese rest in peace in such a grave?

Three weeks went by and a storm began to coil up out over the gulf. The winds churned and rain fell like needles as the hurricane passed over the land. Night found the old man sitting in his room counting his gold coins by flickering candlelight. Outside, the wind howled and blew sheets of rain against the house. The old man did not know that the river had already spilled over the levee and sent its dark water across the land. He sat in his rocking chair, his lap full of gold, rocking and counting, “Un, deux, trois …”

Something thumped against his porch with a hollow, wooden clatter. Knock, knock, knock sounded at his door. “Who’s there?” he hollers.

Only a great sigh like the wind answered. “Just a loose shutter bangin’,” he thinks, and went on counting his shining gold. “Un, deux, trois …”

Knock, knock, knock pounded at his door, stronger this time. “Who’s there?”

Only a whining wind answered him. “Just that good- for-nothin’ hound dog tryin’ to get in,” he thinks. Again he returned to his golden coins. “Un, deux, trois …”

Knock, knock, knock! Three great booming knocks hammered at his door. “Who’s there?”

Only a low, sad moaning. A cold shiver ran down the old man’s back. “Storm’s gotcha all jumpy,” he says to himself. “It’s just the wind blowin’ that ol’ live oak tree, scrapin’ its branches against the house.”

But the moaning rose and rose above the wailing wind until it became a horrifying scream. “Papa, c’est moi, Therese! Let me in! It’s me, Therese!” Knock, knock, knock! “Papa, let me in!” Knock, knock, knock! “Papa, let me innnnnn!”

As the eye of the storm passed over the house, a bloodcurdling shriek pierced the deadly calm. Three days passed and the waters receded. Neighbors came by to look in on the old man. They rode onto his land, and as they passed by the cypress tree they saw that the flood had washed all the dirt away from Therese’s grave and it was empty. They knocked at the back door but no voice answered. Fearing some harm had befallen the old man, they went inside.

They found him sitting like stone in his rocking chair, cold as marble, his hair gone snow white. A silent scream was frozen on his face, and his eyes bulged in glassy terror.

Across the room, the door hung limp from one hinge, as though some monstrous fist had pounded it down. Before it lay a battered, splintered coffin and, inside, the gruesome corpse of Therese. Her withered hands clutched her papa’s golden coins, and a ghastly smile lay fixed upon her decaying lips.

With the money, the neighbors bought Therese a whitewashed vault and gave her a proper above ground burial. There was not enough money to buy the old man a vault, so they buried him in a pine coffin down by the cypress tree.

Since that time, whenever the river threatens to flood the land, the old man’s troubled spirit rises to warn all that danger is at hand. Folks know he’s payed them a visit when they hear someone knock, knock, knocking at their door but nobody is ever there!

- THE END -

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Written by Veronica Byrd and Bert Tanner

Now I’ll just bet that none of you have ever heard the story of Mama Coon Coon and the blue waters of the bayou, have you? Well, we know the story, and I think we need to tell it to you right now.

Once upon a time, the waters of the bayou were black – as black as ink. Now, even though these waters were black, they were still filled with lots and lots of fishes, shrimp and crab. And all of the fishermen would wake up early in the morning, long before the sun had even come above the horizon, and they would cast their nets down into the deep, black water. And what a wonderful sight it was at the end of the day to watch those fishermen pulling in their nets overflowing with all kinds of fishes, shrimp and crab.

Now all the fishermen fished early in the morning, with the exception of one fisherman – or should I say fisherwoman. Her name was Mama Coon Coon. You see, that is the name the local village children gave her because she had deep, dark circles around both eyes just like a raccoon.

Now Mama Coon Coon was a very strange woman indeed. No one really knows where she came from or how she got to our village. It’s as if one day she just appeared out of the clear blue sky – POOF! And come to think of it, that little shack she lives in at the edge of town seemed to pop up out of nowhere also. Like I said, she was a very strange woman indeed. Mama Coon Coon was always seen wearing a big blue dress and a white, clean bandanna tied around her head. Why that bandanna was so white it seemed to glow in the dark.

Now even though she was a little on the weird side, she was known for miles around for making the best seafood gumbo. Her gumbo was so good it would make you lick your lips more than once or twice. She would make her delicious gumbo every Friday night. Now even though she was known for miles and miles around for making seafood gumbo, she was not at all known for her singing. If you ever hear Mama Coon Coon sing, it would best to put both hands over your ears and run the other way!

Well, it happened one day that Mama Coon Coon had everything for her gumbo except crab, and she HAD to have crabs in her seafood gumbo. Now Mama Coon Coon didn’t fish like all the other fishermen. She fished late at night after everyone else had gone to bed. And she didn’t use fishing poles, fishing nets or crab baskets. “Those contraptions are a little too cumbersome for me,” she’d say. All she used to catch her crabs was her big blue dress. What she would do was open up her refrigerator and take out what ever she had left – like an old piece of fried chicken, grits, eggs, sausage from breakfast, old pieces of pizza, and even some items which were just indistinguishable.

You see, Mama Coon Coon said that the crabs just loved her leftovers. She would tie all of those leftovers to her big blue dress and she would go down to the water’s edge. When she’d get to the water, she’d walk right out into that water until it was about waist high. That dress with all the leftover bait on it would just float on top of the water; and she’d stand there and wait for those crabs to bite.

Well, it happened one night that Mama Coon Coon had been standing in the water for hours and hours and hours, and not one crab had bitten the bait. So Mama Coon Coon looked into the black water and said, “Well, I guess it’s too dark tonight. I guess the crabs don’t even know I’m standing here. Maybe I need to do something to attract them.” It was then that Mama Coon Coon began to sing. She sang, “Little crabbies, little crabbies, come and climb upon my dress. Little crabbies, little crabbies, if you don’t it’s gonna be a big mess!!” Well, Mama Coon Coon looked down and not one crab had bitten the bait. So she tried one more time. She sang, “Little crabbies, little crabbies, come and climb upon my skirt. Little crabbies, little crabbies, if you don’t you gon’ get hurt!”

Once again, not one crab had bitten the bait so Mama Coon Coon decided, “Well, well, well – if the crabs will not come to me, I will have to go to them! I will reach down into this black water with my bare hand and pull me out a couple of crabs if I have to!!” And that’s exactly what she did. “Little crabbies, little crabbies, come and cliiiiiiiiii……..”

What happened then was awful and terrible. Mama Coon Coon’s singing was so bad and terrible that folks were running ever-which-a-way with their hands over their ears. Houses were falling, the ground was shaking, and dogs were barking like this: “HowwwwwwwwwWooooooooooow!” And those crabs in that deep black water got angry – they had had it with that terrible singing. So they reached up with their claws and grabbed Mama Coon Coon by the nose and pulled her down, down, down into the deep black waters of the bayou.

And Mama Coon Coon has not been heard from or seen since. But if you happen to go down bayou way, you will notice that the water down there is no longer black – it is now very, very blue. And folks tell me that that is not blue water at all. They say that it is only Mama Coon Coon’s big blue dress still floating on top of the water, waiting for those crabs to bite. And that white moon you see reflecting off of that blue water, why that is no moon at all, child – that is only Mama Coon Coon’s big white bandanna reflecting up through that blue water.

And even today, if you go down to the bayou on any bright moonlit night and stand right at the water’s edge, right where the water meets the shore – if you listen very carefully, I guarantee you can still hear Mama Coon Coon singing to her crabs. She still sings, “Little crabbies, little crabbies, what’s a girl to do? You have pulled me in the water, now everything is blue.”

- THE END -

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Written by J.J. Reneaux

Down in the bayou country there was once a beautiful girl named Marie. She was so pretty, so jolie, that all the people called her Marie Jolie. She was as sweet as sugar cane, but if you did her wrong, look out, for that girl could show a temper as hot as cayenne pepper!

Now Marie Jolie grew to be of a marrying age, but to her maman’s disappointment, she wasn’t yet of a mind to be married. First, she wanted to have adventures and see the big world, so she found something wrong with every young man who came to court her. This one was too short; that one was too tall; the next one had the ears of an elephant.

After a while her maman got impatient with Marie, for she worried that her daughter would wind up an old maid – a terrible fate in those days. So Maman says, “Marie Jolie, it is time for you to take a husband. You can’t pick one to suit you, so me, I’m gonna do it for you. We gonna have us a contest. You see this pumpkin? I’m gonna get M’su Carencro, the buzzard, to put it on the highest little skinniest branch of that big cypress tree out there in the swamp. Chère, the man that can fetch that pumpkin down without fallin’ in the water is gonna be your husband!”

“Well, Maman,” says Marie, “if it’s got to be, I s’pose – that’s as good a way as any of choosin’ a man.”

The contest was held the following week. Men came from parishes far and near, each one more eager than the next to win the hand of Marie Jolie. But one, a tall, dark, handsome man, stood out from the crowd. “Ooh, Maman,” says Marie, “I hope he gets the pumpkin! He’s a good-lookin’ devil for true.”

One after the other, the men tried to climb the great cypress, but they all ended up spitting swamp water. At last the good lookin’ stranger’s turn came. Quick as lightnin’, he scaled that tree like a cat, snatched the pumpkin, and landed with his boots on dry land. Before she knew it, Marie Jolie was a married woman!

She climbed proud as could be into her husband’s wagon, and they started driving down the road. It wasn’t long, however, before she noticed that things were getting strange. The path was growing darker and darker, and her new husband uglier and uglier.

Suddenly, a fearsome man appeared beside the path. “Gimme my tie and collar which I lent ya!” he calls out. Marie’s husband took off the tie and collar. “Here, then,” he says, “take back your ol’ tie and collar.”

A little farther down the road, they met another man. He says, “Gimme back my coat which I lent ya!” “Take your ol’ coat,” says her husband.

Yet a third man appeared and demanded his trousers; a fourth demanded his hat. A little while later, her husband stopped the wagon, disappeared briefly into the swamp woods, and returned just as well dressed as before!

Finally, a fifth man, fiercer than all the others together, his face hidden in the shadow of his tall hat, appeared before them and pointed a long, bony finger. “Give me the horses which I lent ya!” he roars. “Go to the devil, then,” says her husband with a wicked laugh, “and take your ol’ horses with ya.”

He watched as the man led the animals away, then he turned to his wife and hissed, “Girl, get down and hitch ya’self to the wagon and pull us home !” Marie Jolie could feel her temper rising. She was gonna tell him a thing or two! But a terrible change had come over her husband. His icy glare and ugly scowl frightened her. She thought she had better do as he said at least for a little while. She climbed down, hitched herself to the wagon, and began to pull with all her strength.

At last they arrived at her husband’s cabane. It was a gloomy lookin’ place, set way back in the swamp woods. “Marie Jolie,” says her husband, “I must leave. While I am gone, you will stay here and see no one. My maman will take good care of you ” And he disappeared in a burst of flames and smoke.

Marie was scared for true. She begged her new momma-in-law, “Please, Belle-Megrave, tell me why my husband is so strange.”

Belle-Megrave, who was a kind woman at heart and felt worse than anybody about how her son had turned out, sadly shook her head. “Oh, chère fille, ” she says, “you’ve made a terrible match. You have gone and married M’su Diable, the devil himself!”

Marie couldn’t believe her ears. “Old woman, you are only jealous. You just want to break up my marriage.”

“You do not believe me, p’tite fille? Come with me,” the old woman whispered. She led Marie Jolie inside the house to a secret door. She unlocked it with a big brass key and the heavy door creaked open. There, inside that dim room, Marie saw the devil’s other wives – each one hanging from a hook!

Now Marie Jolie knew the truth. “Oh, please, Belle- Mère,” she cried, “you gotta tell me how I can escape! How can I get out of here?”

“Girl, do you not see what became of the others who tried to escape? Stay with me, little one, I will keep you company and ease your suffering,” Belle-Megrave pleaded. “Do not bring down the terrible wrath of my son, the devil!”

But Marie Jolie was growing angry, and in her anger she grew bold. “No,” she insisted, “I will not be the devil’s wife! If you won’t help me escape, then I’ll find a way on my own.”

Belle-Megrave sighed. “The devil knows many tricks. He can change into fire and smoke and ride the wind. You cannot outrun him, but maybe if you are brave enough you can outsmart him. Even the devil cannot defeat a strong heart. But if your courage fails, he will destroy you.”

Marie was determined. “My heart is strong and my mind is made up,” she said. “M’su Diable will not destroy me.”

“All right then,” says Belle-Megrave, “here is what you must do. M’su Diable will return in the deepest night, at three o’clock, the soul’s hour. He hates dawn and the rising sun. In its light he cannot hide his true self, so he sleeps. His spy, Gaime, the rooster, keeps watch. If he catches you tryin’ to escape, he will crow. Tonight you must feed Gaime three bags of corn instead of one, so that he will oversleep. At sunrise, go and gather six dirty eggs. They will protect you. Do not take the clean eggs, for they are bad luck. Then, chère, run as quick-quick as you can away from this place!”

Marie did as she was told. Rooster overslept and she got the six dirty eggs. She tiptoed out, soft-soft, but the gate hinge squeaked and Gaime woke up crowin’ full-throat. “M’su Diable, M’su Diable, wake up! Vite-vite! Your wife is gettin’ away!”

Marie ran for her life as M’su Diable came screaming after her. She had not gone far when she turned and saw a cloud of smoke and fire approaching. She took one dirty egg and threw it over her shoulder. Boom! It exploded right in the devil’s path, and a fence of wood as high and wide as the eye could see sprang up. M’su Diable snorted and stomped in fury and flew back to his cabane. When he returned, he had his magic golden axe. The axe chopped through the fence at once, and the devil was again hot on the trail of his runaway wife.

Marie grabbed a second dirty egg and heaved it straight at the devil. Crack! It flashed like a bolt of lightning, and a fence of brick sprang up as high and wide as the eye could see. The devil cursed and spat, and his magic axe smashed the brick to splinters.

Marie took aim and flung the third dirty egg. It shattered like thunder, and a fence of stone sprang up as high and wide as the eye could see. The devil shrieked and set his axe to ripping through the wall, and soon the cloud of fire and smoke again threatened to destroy her.

Marie took the fourth egg and hurled it through the air. The earth shook with its force, and a fence of iron sprang up as high and wide as the eye could see. But it, too, was little trouble for M’su Diable’s fearsome magic.

Marie ran as fast as she could, but M’su Diable was almost upon her. She grabbed the fifth egg and pitched it straight into the fireball behind her. A wall of flames roared to the sky, and a deep bayou appeared before the devil. The water stopped him cold. But suddenly a great gust of wind blew the evil cloud of smoke and fire over the bayou, and the waters began to boil.

Marie’s blood ran cold as ice when she looked back this time. For M’su Diable had dropped his disguise, and now she saw the ol’ devil himself as he truly is. His forked tail whipped wildly about, his cloven hooves raised clouds of dust, and his goat beard flapped wickedly in the wind. The bright sun glinted off his sharp, curved horns, and his beady eyes burned like hot coals. Crusty red scales covered his body. For true, M’su Diable looked a whole lot like a boiled crawfish!

Only one dirty egg remained, and Marie threw it with her last ounce of strength. But her hand trembled so that she completely missed her mark. The egg fell at her own two feet and exploded. The earth rumbled and cracked. A mighty river came rolling by. It was the Mississippi! Marie was trapped. How could she ever swim such a wide, dangerous river?

But wait – wasn’t that ol’ Grandmaman Cocodrie sunning herself out there in the shallows? Marie cried out to the alligator, “Je vous en prie, Grandmaman, traver-sez-moi. Sauvez ma vie! Aidez-moi, vieille Grandmaman! I beg you, carry me across. Save my life. Help me, old Grandmother!”

Grandmaman Cocodrie, always on the lookout for an easy meal, swam up to Marie without a moment’s hesitation. “Maybe I will carry you across,” she growled. “But tell me, what makes you think I won’t eat you up?”

“Grandmaman,” says Marie, “I’d rather be your supper than be the devil’s wife!”

“Climb on my back, p’tite fille, I like your courage!” says the old cocodrie, and she carried Marie quickly and safely to the other side.

Just then, M’su Diable came running up to the bank. In his most charming voice he called out, “Traversez-moi, Grandmaman, traversez-moi! Belie, belie cocodrie! Carry me across, old Grandmother, carry me across! Beautiful, beautiful alligator!”

“Climb on my back, M’su, I’ll give you a ride for sure,” says ol’ Alligator with a snap of her jaws. M’su Diable stepped onto her scaly back, holding his forked tail out of the muddy water, while Grandmother Alligator swam out into the deep river.

Things were looking awfully bad for Marie, with M’su Diable closing in on her. But, if there was anything that Grandmaman Cocodrie hated, it was a mean ol’ devil on her back, and suddenly, way out there where the water was swiftest and darkest, she dived. M’su Diable didn’t have a snowball’s chance in August. M’su Diable, of course, can’t swim a lick – not much water down where he comes from. The 0l’ Muddy took that devil kickin’ and sputterin’ all the way downstream to New Orleans. Some say he washed up in the French Quarter, right smack dab in the middle of Bourbon Street, but then, that’s another story altogether.

As for Marie Jolie, she lived to be une très vieille femme, a very old woman. She had many adventures before her black hair turned snow-white. People called her Marie Esprit, the spirited one. When they asked why she never married again, she’d just smile and say, “You know, chère, once you been married to one devil, there’s no need to go out and look for another one!”

- THE END -

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Written by Tom Coleman

“DON’T GO INTO PATIN’S PUMPKIN PATCH. THEY GOT TATIES IN THERE!”

How many times have I heard that growing up in South Louisiana? Seems like every time I’d turn around to go outside my momma and papa would tell me, “Don’t go into Patin’s Pumpkin Patch. They got taties in there!”

Now for those of you who don’t know, a tati is like a Cajun boogyman. They love to scare bad little childrens.

But I could never understand why outa all of the punkin patches in Acadia Parish, any Tati would want to live in Patin’s pumpkin patch. I mean, it was all overgrown with weeds. And the punkins were so villain – ugly, all twisted out of shape.

My papa used to tell me stories about old man Patin, and how he put a gris gris on his punkin patch – you know, an evil spell to keep the taties there.

He went out into that punkin patch one time a year, on Halloween night at midnight, to put a fresh gris gris on his field. Don’t never go into Patin’s punkin patch. They got Taties in there. Well, me and my best friend Shawee, decided we was too old to believe in taties anymore. So we was gonna play a trick on old man Patin.

We sneaked into his punkin patch on Halloween night and we was gonna take our pocket knives and carve some Jack O’ Lanterns out of them old scraggly punkins. Yeah, we was gonna fool old Patin into thinking that the Halloweenies had passed, and scare him real good.

We sat down with a couple of punkins and was just about to carve them up when we heard a noise, like something moving in the field. Me and Shawee stopped what we was doing and looked into the field. It was a full moom so we could see everything like it was daytime. But we couldn’t see what was moving.

So I sat back down and was fixin to start cutting when I saw that someone had already carved a scary face into that punkin. I was surprised, but when I looked closer at it, it didn’t look like it was carved at all. It looked different.

Then all of a sudden that punkin blinked! I jumped to my feet and threw that punkin down. That old punkin face started getting meaner and meaner, and that thing started rocking back and forth, like something was coming out of the ground and pushing it. Then I saw that every punkin in that field was moving from side to side.

They rocked so hard that they started popping loose from their vines. Then they started rolling. That whole field was moving now. Rolling toward me and Shawee.

You think we ran?

Flame de cheu cabris! We ran like a goat with our tail on fire!

Them punkins started chasing us, rolling right behind us. We ran through that field towards the town. We heard that rumbling sound like an earthquake, and I looked back over my shoulder, and saw a mountain of punkins tumbling toward us; each one of them had a mean, scary face. And their mouths were getting bigger and bigger like they was gonna swallow us whole!

Shawee and me ran toward the big dith at the edge of the field as fast as we could. We ran down the side of that ditch with all these punkins close behind. But they could roll down faster than we could run and I felt tham big orange things hitting the back of my boots. I knew we was done for. But then we started running up the other side of the ditch. Now those punkins could roll uphill as fast as they rolled down, so when we finally reached the top of the other side, me and Shawee finally stopped and looked back. The punkins that had rolled up this side were rolling back down. We made it.

But then we saw the punkins roll back up the other side and then back up this one, each time getting higher and higher. They were trying to get over this side!

Me and Shawee started running toward town, screaming at the top of our lungs, “HELP ME! SAVE ME! PATIN’S PUNKINS ARE TRYING TO EAT ME!”

We ran straight to the fire hall where there was a bunch of men sitting outside playing cards. When they heard our screams, they didn’t laugh or ask any questions. Instead they ran into the fire hall and grabbed those big chopping axes, and then they ran back toward Patin’s field.

We finally caught up to them in the ditch where they were smashing all of those punkins with their axes. When they had busted up every last one, they went into Patin’s patch and set that whole field on fire.

It was the biggest fire me and Shawee ever saw. That black smoke curled up to the sky and completely blocked out that full moon.

Now I’m gonna tell you something, and if you doon’t believe me you can ask Shawee. But above the roar of that flame we heard screams, hundreds of screams rising up from that smoke. Oooh, it gives me the frissons just thinking about it right now.

Now old man Patin was never seen again since that night. Some people say he ran away, some think that something bad happened to him. And that punkin patch? Well, it never grew another punkin since then. In fact, if you go to Acadia Parish today, you won’t find another punkin patch anywhere around there. But if you ask somebody around there where old Patin’s field is, they sure can tell you. But they also gonna tell you:

“DON’T GO INTO PATIN’S PUNKIN PATCH. THEY STILL GOT TATIE’S IN THERE!”

- THE END -

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