On Spec Magazine - Spring 2012 #88 vol 24 no 1 by Various authors

Author:Various authors
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: The Copper Pig Writers' Society
Published: 2012-06-26T00:00:00+00:00

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Sometimes being the Hoodoo woman’s son means knowing more about your friends than you should.

Hoodoo Boy

Kim Despins

Sometimes being the Hoodoo woman’s son means something. Alain’s aunt had told him that once when he complained about his mom’s position in the community. Since then, Alain keeps track. So far it means enduring taunts on the playground from the kids who don’t believe and watching the superstitious kids ward him off with the evil eye. It means trick-or-treating with the school bully because everyone else is afraid to be with the Hoodoo woman’s son on Halloween.

Alain and Donny carry orange plastic sacks decorated with bats, witches, black cats and the local bank’s logo. A jar filled with pungent herbs weights Alain’s sack and darkens the evening. He should’ve dealt with that jar days ago like his mom told him. Now it pulls on his shoulder and makes the sweets less tempting because they clatter against the glass just a breath away from something that smells of rotting flowers and sweaty feet in proximity to it.

Their sacks are filled only half-way with candy, a few quarters and a toothbrush from old Mrs. Thibodaux who worries that Alain’s mother will rot their teeth out, then use them to work a hex against her. Alain knows this because the old woman, who has few teeth left in her own head, tells him every Halloween as she places a toothbrush in his candy sack and begs him to put in a good word for her.

Sometimes being the Hoodoo woman’s son means recommendations that never get delivered.

He wants to play pranks with his friends, collect candy and eat himself sick, but he’s got a task.

“I have to go to the Abshire place,” Alain says.

Donny’s dark face is painted bone white except for circles around his eyes and the spaces between the skeleton teeth painted over his lips. The face paint remains immaculate. As usual, Donny is too wired to eat candy.

“I ain’t stepping one foot in that yard.” Donny strides down the sidewalk to the next house, his black Vans slapping against the pavement and scattering dried leaves.

Alain jogs to catch up. “C’mon, I have to.”

“No way. My dad’ll kick my ass for going anywhere near that place. Besides, the old lady steals children. You know that.”

Donny’s dad isn’t really his dad, but no one knows that except Donny’s and Alain’s moms. Alain knows because he’d been hiding under the stairs when Donny’s mom asked for a gris gris to get her husband to stop asking questions. It worked, but sometimes Donny’s dad gets a little violent. He always makes up for it later with trips to the motocross when it’s in town or ice cream for Donny and his friends. The guy always looks a little confused, like he’s doing something without knowing why. Alain knows that’s sort of true.

Sometimes being the Hoodoo woman’s son means knowing more about your friends than you should.

“I have to,” Alain says. “I was supposed to take something over the other day.

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