KHIAM’E

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SISTER ROSE AND THE GATOR-MAN

Little Sister Rose, she too grown, they say. Say she twelve going on twenty and bad as the original sin himself. They call her Sister Rose, ‘cuz she got the mind of a grown woman–let her tell it–and the mouth of a sailor twice her age.

Rose was an orphan who lived in a cabin near the swamp with five other yung’ns she called her brothers and sisters. They were taken in by an older woman folk named M’Dear. M’Dear wore her thin graying hair–tangled and wispy as Spanish moss–stuffed under a purple bonnet dark as her skin. She was as tall as she was wide with a tongue sharper than a railroad spike and hands that struck quick as a rattlesnake when it came to tannin’ a yung’ns behind.

But the children come to know her bark was worse than her bite so they ain’t pay her no mind no way. Especially Rose for whom no goodly amount of whuppins could ever set straight. This suited M’Dear just fine. After all, they wuzn’t her chillun’ no way. M’Dear had set the kids outside while she potter about the house. She told Rosalee to watch over the yung’ns on cause she was the oldest. But Rose just stuck her tongue out at her making the other children laugh when M’Dear hobbled outside, chasing them with her walking stick. As they ran away, she hollered out, “You best be home fo’ dem crickets start a’singin or else I’ll belt you out a tune over my knee. And y’all stay away from de watuh, hear?”

___

“Let’s play a game.” Rose suggested slyly, prompting a collective groan from the others. Rose’s games were never fun for anybody except her. She never played a game she could lose and god forbid a’body for trying. Unlike M’Dear her bark was bad but her bite was worse—Rose had a mean streak a mile wide competitive as she was. It wasn’t enough to know she was the biggest, baddest, meanest. She had to prove it too. Every single time.

“What game you wanna play?” Sissy asked.

“Hide and seek,” Rose said with a wicked grin.

“Awww Rose. We don’ wanna play that stupid game agin,” Shuggie and Sissy whined in unison.

Shuggie was a pint sized terror in his own right. Before Rose, he had been with M’Dear the longest. By rights, he should be the leader of their little ragtag group of orphans but he wasn’t much for taking up that mantle. He left that to Rose to tell the little yung’ns what to do.

They were a distance away from M’Dear’s house situated on the waterfront, the lone blight of civilization against the deep wilderness of the swamp. Close enough to be comforted by the sight of home but far enough to be at the mercy of God’s little acre. Just how Rose liked it.

Rose turned on him. “Just fo’ that, you can go first.” She reached behind her and handed him a mask. It was grotesque and uneven, like an alien form of a human face whittled from the hands of a child.

Shuggie sighed cuz it ain’t never mattered no way. He was always first. As sure as the day was long, Rose would find a way to make an example of him.

___

“You so brave, then why don’t you cross dat river then? See how brave you are.”

Another game of hide and seek had not ended well for Shuggie. Rose ended up finding him hiding atop a tree and throwing up rocks to get him down. Fortunately for him her aim was worse than her temper. Unfortunately for him, she had a cannon for an arm and that was all it took to leave him with a busted lip. On the other side of the creek was a thicket of swamp brush, untamed wilderness that hadn’t been touched for ages. It once stood as a travel route used by the Confederate army to caravan supplies but it wasn’t much to speak on back then anyway. Wasn’t nothing good enough in that forest for anybody to go looking for.

“You think I won’ do it?”

“I know you ain’t.”

“I ain’t no skeerdy cat like you Shuggie.”

“You movin’ yo’ lips more’n your feet Rose. Prove it.”

It was enough for the challenge that Rose would follow through. Her sense of self-preservation was less than her sense of pride and Shuggie knew that.

“Rosalee,” Sissy squeaked out, “M’Dear say we not ‘spos to go down there.”

“M’Dear ain’t my mammy, Sissy.”

“But we not suppose ta’–”

“Fine, then keep y’all scaredy tails over here, you big babies.”

Rose looked at Shuggie, “Be ready to pay back what you owe.”

They didn’t speak any wagers on it but he knew Rose would come to collect. He was starting to doubt this dare less and less…

___

The bridge was just like Shuggie described. It was hardly worth a blue jay to cross, much less a human girl. You’d have to be a crazy person to even attempt it. Crazy or stupid.

But there on the other bank was a girl, standing by the water. She looked up, seeming just as surprised to see Rose there as Rose was to see her. It wasn’t uncommon to see stragglers lost this far out in the wilderness but Rose was sure she’d never seen this girl before.

“Hey,” she called out, “what are you doing out here?”

The girl said nothing, only watched Rose with unbelieving interest, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. One thing about Rose was she didn’t do mysteries and she didn’t do strange; and this girl was both.

Sunlight was fading fast and surely Shuggie, Sissy, and ‘nem would be on their way back home by now. Even then, nothing but sheer hardheadness could’ve ever planted the thought in her mind to cross that river. She took a cautious step forward. The wood groaned underneath her feet but did not break. The girl watched Rose curiously for a moment before disappearing.

“Hey, wait!”

It was hard to tell from this distance but something about the girl seemed strange. Before she could dwell on it, she nearly got the shock of her life to see the girl standing right next to her, practically nose to nose.

Rose damn near fell into the water but the girl grabbed her around the neck with all the nonchalance of a child picking up a frog. The girl placed a finger to her lips. She took purposeful cautious steps, looking back to be sure Rose was watching.

She didn’t have much time to question this girl and her sudden appearance. She was tired of standing on this rickety old bridge waiting for a cold plunge to what would surely be her death. She took a step forward, walking in the same path she’d seen the girl do. The bridge swayed under her weight but held steadfast.

Once over the bridge, the girl smiled at her but Rose noticed she showed no teeth. The girl moved with a lightness that didn’t seem natural, but increasing curiosity got the better of Rose as she followed close behind.

Elsewhere unseen, a dozen pairs of beady eyes followed them into the wilderness.

___

The trees grew thick here, twisted and tangled together, fighting for the few spans of sunlight punching through the forest canopy. Taking her hand, the girl guided her through a canopy of low hanging branches. Spanish moss and glass bottles hung from the trees littering the forest like shiny shards of glitter.

There was something ancient about this place. The forest here seemed to buzz with a heavy energy buried deep beneath the surface.

The girl reached for one of the trees and pulled down a glass jar. She opened the jar to reveal to Rose the fireflies inside, their amber shine casting a warm glow on her as they filtered from their captivity. In the ceiling above her there must be hundreds of jars like that, full of fireflies casting their magic under this relic of forest.

The girl gazed up at the night sky, her face lit with the orange glow. Rose took it all in.

A strong, bright light drew her attention as she recognized it as the tell-tale sign of campfire. She came to the entrance of a thick hollowed out tree. Roasting on a spit inside the fire was an unusual cut of meat, unlike any animal she’d ever seen before.

CRACK!

There, beneath her feet were pieces of a broken skull: long, oblique, with a thin slit carved into the bone. In that moment, Rose realized just like the fireflies she was lured here by the flame.

The girl stood outside the entrance, watching Rose expectantly, yet looking perfectly at ease–as if she had merely stumbled across an old boot in a messy coat closet.

“What are you?”

The girl grabbed Rose’s hand, fingers clamped around her wrist like a vice. Even here, against the heat of the fire, they felt clammy and cold.

Rose yanked her hand away and before she knew it, her feet were hitting the ground, the fire disappearing behind her; leaving the fireflies, the light and everything warm at her back. The low hanging branches that once seemed like a canopy to a magical earthen grotto now loomed menacingly like needley hands pulling at the threads of her escape.

There at the banks of the water, stood a group of bone-masked yung’ns all around her age. The girl appeared from right beside her, taking her own place as the leader of the group.

“How many,” she asked, disquieted. “How many more like me did you lead to their death?”

The leader placed a finger to her lips. The yung’ns remained silent, watching, their faceless stares unnerving. Rose took care to put as much distance between her and them as possible while keeping them in her sight. They made no move to follow her as she headed towards the bridge. All the same, they didn’t seem particularly worried. She nearly got to the other end of the old wooden bridge when another group appeared, waiting on the other side.

Rose took a step back, “Stay away from me you freaks!”

The yung’ns didn’t move. They didn’t take a step closer to the water. Perhaps a small human part of Rose took comfort in the fact that they didn’t seem in any particular hurry to kill her, but a choice between a watery death vs. what was waiting for her on the bank was no choice at all.

“You want me? Come and get me! I ain’t scared of you! None of you.” Aroused by the commotion, a sleepy-eyed gator emerged from the water, watching Rose with lazy interest. She noticed the new guest to their party.

“I ain’t scared of you either. You jus’ a mean ole, uglee ole gator–”

The wood beneath her feet gave way and Rose went plunging into the water. Beneath the surface, she could see the splash of bodies leaping in after her. The yung’ns moved through the water like white sheets, their pale, sightless faces baring their sharp teeth; all the while the gator came barreling towards her, using its jaws to slice through the crowd, its mouth open wide…

___

It’s funny how even death finds you in the strangest places. One minute you’re drowning in the water, the next you’re floating down the river Styx. Rose felt the water begin to still beneath her. Blearily opening her eyes, she saw the familiar silhouette of M’Dear’s house appear into view. The afterlife was nothing like she thought it would be.

She felt herself gathered and carried from the water.

“This here is your stop, Miss Rosalee.”

“Who are you?”

“Not an angel, Ms. Rosalee.”

Settled on the banks of the shore, Rose began to come to. A pair of piercing yellow eyes looked down at her. Firm but not unkind.

“Keep away from the water hunny. This ain’t a place fo’ little girls like you.”

With that, her mysterious savior disappeared into the black waters of the swamp; his chain clinking behind him. The crickets were crooning their mirthless tune. Night had fallen and it was time for her to get home.

She looked at the glassy surface of the creek again. Rose began to wonder how Gator-man ever got that chain tied around his neck but thought it best not to ask questions.

___

Rose ran home and to her surprise Shuggie was the first to meet her. He was so plum happy that he nearly wet himself, crying between big fat tears and snot when he thought she got hurt on account of him. The moment didn’t last long when she got in the house after M’Dear put a fierce tanning on her hide. Not only was she late but she lied about it too, telling tall tales about a’body half-gator half man.

The other yung’ns wanted to know what she had seen but Rose was tightlipped and M’Dear would hear none of it. Later that night when all the other children had gone to sleep, Rose heard M’Dear ambling around in the kitchen. She got up and walked towards the sound, rubbing her sleepy little eyes.

“M’Dear?”

M’Dear hadn’t heard her, bent under the counter, clanging around pans and such to find her favorite fry skillet. Rose noticed a flash of movement under M’Dear’s house gown–there! She saw it. Peeking under the skirt of her dress was the stub of a long, black tail covered in scales and sharp, spiked ridges. It swept behind M’Dear merrily, making a great rumble as it scratched against her meticulously polished wood floors.

Rose blinked her eyes to clear her mind of the sleep. Surely she must be dreaming. That, or she was only half awake and hallucinating. It was just a trick of the light, yes, that’s it. No, she dare not look down again–why would she?

“Rose?” M’Dear’s gravelly voice made her freeze. “Rose is dat you hunny?”

M’Dear stood up, sweeping the dress behind her.

“What en de lord’s name’ are you doin’ up so late? You dern ne’r gave me a fright!”

“Sorry, M’Dear, I couldn’t sleep.”

“Hmm.” M’Dear watched her with cautious little eyes. “Yes…I spec’ you are sorry.”

Rose’s eyes dropped down to her feet. M’Dear’s long house dress brushed against the surface of the floor. Rose was relieved she couldn’t see anything. M’Dear appeared perfectly normal and yet…

“You believe me, don’ you M’Dear? About the Gator-man?”

M’Dear gave her a wide smile, displaying gleaming row upon row of yellow teeth. She never noticed before–probably because M’Dear never smiled–but she sure did have a lot of teeth–all of ‘em stuffed inside a maw with too many to seem natural.

“I sho’ do hunny,” M’Dear tilted her head, grinning wider. “Now Imma ‘spec you ta keep yo’ brothers n’ sisters on de straight n’ narrah. Can you do dat fo’ me hunny?”

There was something uneasy, almost predator-like about her smile. Rose felt like a fat fly in a room full of long-tongued croakers.

Rose nodded.

“Good,” was all M’Dear said. Rose went back to her bed, and back to sleep, hoping to forget about her mind tricks in the morning.

___

Ever since that day, Little Sister Rose ain’t been the same. M’Dear neither, come to mind. Every time someone mention the Gator-man, Rose would snap and get all upset like, telling them not to be callin’ on that devil and M’Dear would give her a cool little smile

Years went by and she wasn’t even sure if Gator-man was really real anymore, if she ain’t just make him up herself. Everybody got their own crosses to bear. Maybe everybody got a little Gator-man inside of ‘em. As time went on, the yung’ns became big’ns and started to move away from that old shanty. They shared all they knew of their life on the swamp with M’Dear and that mean ole Rosalee. People laughed at tales of Sister Rose, saying she been changed since she almost drowned in that swamp. Old as she get, Sister Rose ain’t never left that shack. Prophetizin’ to everybody who’d hear, going round, tellin’ all the children to stay from the water and that rickety old bridge–that the Gator-man was a-waitin’ for ‘em, looking for bad children to fall in.

That ole Sister Rose, she madder than a sack of wild hogs, they say. And that ole M’Dear, well she just smile.

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Banner Art:
Photo by Peter Herrmann, Unsplash, 2021