Bayou Talk by Thia Morgan Clayton
	"Jeremiah, paddle up closer to them trees over to the right. I sees sumthin' over there," said Ben, aiming the bright beam of the spotlight at the requested destination thirty feet away. The eight-foot long Jon boat glided slowly, almost silently through the black water, parting the thick fog that settled over the swamp after the sunset. The only sound louder than the splashing of the boat's paddles was the deep croaking of a thousand frogs- some larger than a man's two hands- perched atop the dense masses of lily pads covering the bayou. Some of the local folks find the frogs' songs comforting. Lulls them to sleep, they say. Only the possible threat of danger quiets the frogs' dry, coarse calls. "Stop splashin' so much wit' them paddles, Jeremiah. Ya goin' to scare it off," Ben whispered. "It may be that big albino gator ever'one been huntin'. He ain't movin', so jest takes it nice and easy." The boat drifted closer to the object at the base of the tree, brushing up against the cypress knees jutting from the water like hard, pointed warts growing from the submerged roots. An eerie silence fell over the marsh and all that could be heard was the repetitive splatter of water lapping the sides of the boat. Ben became apprehensive in their approach, holding his hand up to signal a halt in their advance. "Slow it up a bit, Jeremiah. Sumthin' jest don't look right. That ain't no gator. No, sir. It looks to be a man layin' there." The boat met the base of the tree and Ben stood, rocking the small craft with the unsteady movement of his large frame. Leaning out and over the edge of the boat, he held the spotlight as close to the torso as he dared; the lower portion of the body was crammed into the roots under the water. Upon viewing the face of the mangled man, he released a half scream, dropping onto the seat with a jolt. "Dammit, Jeremiah. You got a twin brother?" he hollered, as he swung the spotlight to the back of the boat, to the red eyes and the open jaws of the white alligator chomping down on his horrified expression.
	Copyright © 2006 Thia Morgan Clayton