Color Blind by Sobel Sheila;

Author:Sobel, Sheila;
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: F+W Media
Published: 2016-10-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

Everyone turned towards me, their eyes glowing red in the firelight, ratcheting up the fear factor. If ever there was a time to make a run for it, it would be now.

But my feet wouldn’t move.

Louder this time, Marguerite bellowed, “Bring me the cage.”

Angel cried, “April, noooooo!” and tightened her grip on my shirt.

I looked around, realizing we were just as trapped as the animals. Seeing no other way out of this, I slowly moved forward. Angel pulled at my shirt, tried to bring me back.

“April, we gotta get out,” Angel whispered. Desperately afraid, she began to cry.

I had no plan, but knew it was time to act. What could I possibly do to get this sorted out? I’d made such a mess of everything. I couldn’t think about it now. Regrets could wait. I had to focus on the here and now, on Angel.

“Angel, I don’t have a choice. Come with me, you can stand by the goat. Here, take my hand,” I said, moving towards the chickens, my mind racing.

Angel gripped my hand and followed, sobbing as we worked our way closer to the animals. I looked back and saw that the man with the machetes had a fixed, menacing smile as he flashed his killing tools in anticipation.

“Angel, look. Look at that baby goat. She’s frightened, just like you and me. Please stay with her, pet her, hug her. You can help her. She needs you,” I said with as much calm as I could muster. I reached for the cage.

“April, I ca-can’t. I ju-just can’t do this,” Angel stuttered, crying inconsolably.

Her agony broke my heart. I took Angel by the shoulders and lightly shook her. I looked deep into her eyes, “Angel, please stop crying! I need your help. The goat needs your help. I need you to take care of her. Do you understand me? Do you?”

Angel raised her head, looked at me, looked back at the goat. Her eyes grew wide.

“You understand me now, right, Angel?”

Angel nodded, wiped away the tears with the back of her hand and moved closer to the bleating baby goat. As Angel patted her, the little goat quieted. I picked up the cage, turned towards my audience, held my head high.

All eyes were on me now. I affected an air of great aplomb, as I’d seen the famous actresses, like Vivien Leigh, do in the classic movies I watched with my dad. I walked with grand ceremony into the arena. It was difficult to manage, as the cage was rocking with flapping, frightened chickens. I used that to my advantage, appearing to struggle mightily. As I approached the center of the circle, I stared intently at Marguerite, one unsteady step at a time.

Marguerite, arms stretched out towards the heavens, was bathed in an aura of firelight, her golden eyes burning as intensely as the bonfire.

She called out, “Now is the time to bring peace to the restless spirits. Oh, beautiful descendant of the great Queen Marie Laveau, come to me.

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