I’ll never forget the day we ventured into the city to locate our prospective new residence. It was only a few months after “the storm of the century”, as the mayor dubbed it, when the humid air dissipated slightly, and the cool breezes of October whined through the dark alleys. The streets should have been full of tourists searching for Voodoo Dolls and spicy cuisine, but unfortunately it was void of life. Many buildings had severe damage, shops looted, and restaurants were boarded up and vacant. New Orleans always seemed to have a malevolent edge to it, regardless of its carnival lifestyle, but this was different. Katrina was discussed as if she were an infamous being, a nefarious fiend in which who’s wrath was unforgiving. She engrossed misery throughout the city’s atmosphere even after her departure that was reminiscent to the wickedness and death of the black plague.
Marshal and I wanted a few drinks before turning in for the night. A single bar remained open near our hotel, serving the survivors that needed to imbibe their despairs away.
Walking the narrow street with caution and avoiding the putrid puddles on the slate covered sidewalk, we made our way down the quiet block expeditiously. After nightfall everything around us was stagnant which was in deep contrast to the area before Katrina made her landfall. The Square was once crowded with party goers who listened to loud music that echoed from drinking holes, alongside restaurants crammed with food and spirits, but now forsaken.
Passing an open carriage house, my eyes caught a cursory glimpse of black veils fluttering in the soft breeze. The glow from a flame lit street sconce revealed enigmatic feminine silhouettes wrapped in sheer silk that were adorned with lustrous sparkles of gold and silver. They appeared out of the darkness like alluring phantoms dancing in the twilight and then vanished into the murky haze.
