Voodoo Without Mercy

Deep in the swamps of New Orleans, there lived the inspiration for many ghost stories. She was old; her skin was weary from the life that lived in it. Her hair was like the branches drooping down from the willows that swallowed her house. The only twinkle in her eye was from the fireflies that were brave enough to approach her. Alas, the world was never given a chance to accept her, to know her, or even reject her. She rejected the world before it even knew she existed.

She was a tormented soul. The world ignored her, but she believed it plotted against her. There was no act of kindness that could convince her that the world was not as cruel and wicked as it was in her mind’s eye. Unfortunately for the world, she was planning her revenge. Her plot was so devious, that it would employ the use of black magic. But it wasn’t just any black magic. She would call upon the powers of the swamps, a power so intoxicating, the mere name can send shudders throughout your body: Voodoo.

“The world is a dark place,” she whispered to herself, “but not a difficult one to understand.” She prepared her house for the forbidden ritual. Her cheeks puffed up into a devious smile. Jagged, green teeth hid coyly behind her worm-like lips.

“All creatures are born wicked. And I shall cleanse the wicked from this earth.” She had a bag of rabbit bones and the blood of the largest rooster she could find close at hand. “But first I need an army. And with this Voodoo spell: I conjure the zombies. Awake, you dead, and heed my call!”

The old lady muttered the incantation and the broken, French words lingered into the still air like a sickly brown fog. The words fell slowly to the spongy, mossy ground with a sickening thud. The earth began to quake. Even her house seemed to want to hide from what was going to happen. Distinct rumblings stampeded from the foundations of the house. They seemed to get louder, as if approaching the old hag that called for the zombies. With a sudden explosion of dirt and mud, an army of zombies stood listlessly in front of the old woman.

“Ah, yes. These are the only beasts of this earth I can trust,” she paced around the horde and spoke to them directly knowing the chant gave her full power over them, “You are the lucky lot that have not been tainted by the pains of life. You have been cleansed through the purity, through the filter of death. I have only one command to give you: seek out the wicked and destroy without mercy!”

As soon as she uttered the final word of her command, the undead pounced on the old lady and didn’t even give her a chance to scream.