Le Petit Cajun Esprit
by
Book Cover & Preview Text
Chapter 6
In the meantime,
Chris had stayed in the Great Hall. Chris looked up the stairs and began to
climb, very slowly, one at a time, to the landing above and then he heard a
noise.
"Oh, oh,
oh", said a little squeaky voice.
"Chris was
amazed and curious.
"Where are
you"? He called.
"I can't
find you. Are you littler than
me"? Chris whispered as he opened
the cupboard door. "You are very
much littler than me, come out, come out and play, let me see you, Oh, Oh,
you're very white, white all over".
Chris looked at the little boy in front of him; he was covered, in a
gauzy, filmy, stuff, from head to toe.
Chris had never see seen a spirit before. (Have you?)
"What's
your name, little boy"? Asked Chris.
"i don't
know". squeaked le petit ghost.
"My name is
Chris, I'll call you mikie, will you be my friend Will you play with
me"? mikie"? Asked
Chris. Now why wasn't Christian afraid
of the little ghost? I wonder.
"i don't
know how to play", squeaked mikie, in a very shaky little voice.
"I know how
to play Hide and Seek", bragged Chris, being much bigger and smarter, he
thought, than mikie. He puffed up his chest something shameful.
"well",
squeaked mikie, "if we don't make any noise, we can play in the rooms up
here".
"Let's
go". Roared Chris trying to whisper.
"you hide and I'll count to ten", said Chris. He had learned
this game from his mother and had played Hide and Seek with his cousins.
"1-3-7A N D
10", counted Chris, (oh well, he is only 4).
Chris opened his
eyes and there was mikie still standing in front of him.
"Ah h h
mikie, you have to hide somewhere when I close my eyes and count". Said
Chris in a loud voice.
"why"?
squeaked mikie.
"Because
that's how we play", Chris explained, frowning, his eyebrows going
together.
"o.k.",
squeaked mikie, "play is good"?
"Well,
yes", explained Chris, tapping his foot, "it's the only game I know,
soooo, I guess we can try it, okay?
It's fun! I'll hide this time and you close your eyes and count to
ten."
"i don't
know how", complained mikie, his eyes beginning to cry. This was an awful
lot of stuff at one time for mikie to learn.
Chris did not understand this problem at all.
"Well don't
be a baby", said Chris, "I'll show you how, okay"?
Chris took
mikie's hand and went behind the big chair to hide him.
" You hide
here behind this chair and I'll count to ten, then I'll come find you.
See"? whispered Chris.
"yes",
squeaked mikie.
Chris ran to the
fireplace and hid his eyes and counted, "1, 4, 5, and 10, ready or not
here I come".
STOMP, STOMP,
went Chris looking behind mikie's chair.
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Book Details
About the Book
The misty fog drifts in swirls, over, around and
through the wispy gray moss hanging low from the branches of the giant Live Oak
Trees that dot the dark, errie banks of the Bayou Teche.
The full silver moon was riding low through the Live
Oak tree branches in the dark Mid-night sky.
Everywhere you looked the sky was pelted with bright
stars.
Further down the bank of the Bayou, shining through
the ghostly trees, stands a big Plantation House, white, silent, and tall. It's white columns gleaming in the silvery
moonlight.
The Plantation house is empty and lonely!
SSSSSSsssssss.......What's that?
Who's there?
A wispy, white, filmy, uh, uh, uh, SOMETHING, can be
seen floating through the Giant Live Oak Trees, floating, floating, and
swirling around the gray Spanish Moss that trails to the ground.
A gently breeze tugged at the filmy, gauzy, white
'STUFF....!!!
000000OOOOOooooooN0.....A GHOST!!!
En Petit' Cajun Spirit. -------A----GHOST!!!
ALON' MES AME', Come join the fun, be like this lazy
little Cajun French boy, roll with laughter and puzzle over this mystery.
Come, fly with Christian and the littlest ghost and
learn the story on the back of the old door of the Plantation House. You will love this petit ghost story. Alon',
Alon', Mes Ame' (come, come, my friend).
About the Author
E. Marie Theriot Bailey was born in Texas, raised in Louisiana, near New Orleans. She lives in Ruston, La.
She started writing at a very early age, letters, to family in St. Martinsville, La., you may know the story of Evangeline, by Longfellow, this is the setting for her story as well. The history of her family in, Louisiana, has its roots in the Bayou Teche country.
This story was written to entertain her Grandchild,
Christian.
Christian was 4 years old, and impatiently
waiting for a little brother or sister.