Categories > Original > Horror > The LaLaurie House
Once back on 'our side' of the Mississippi, we debated over what to do next. It was only noon, and our curfew was nine hours away. Ashley wanted to go shopping in the quarter, Clara and Jason expressed their desire to explore some of the famous cemeteries, and Megan insisted that she and Jill would go off on their own unless we all chipped in on a tour of the Garden District. In the end, Clara and Jason won, and Ashley, Megan, and Jill left us for places unknown.
I guided the group up the street where we boarded the Canal Street trolley. We took it west for about a half hour until it was at the end of it's track, then disembarked. When we stepped out into the street, it was as if we were standing in the city of the dead itself! Cemeteries surrounded us on three sides, and stretched as far as the eye could see. They do not bury their dead in New Orleans. The old Spanish custom of entombing the corpses in mausoleums had been used in the early days of the city, and is still being used to this day.
The first cemetery we visited, Greenwood, was somewhat dilapidated. The mausoleums were all beautiful, but the moss growing up the side and the crumbling mortar gave the whole place an eerie feeling. Chris found that, if he got up close enough to the most badly damaged of the tombs, he could actually catch a glimpse of what was inside. Clara did not appreciate this, and insisted we leave at once.
Knowing that most of the cemeteries around these parts would be in similar states of disrepair, I decided to take the group to Metarie. Since the locals often discouraged tourists from going there, it was hidden from view, and difficult to access. After crossing five lanes of traffic, navigating under bridges, and picking through litter-ridden paths, we finally emerged upon our destination. This was the 'rich folk's' burial ground, and the tombs showed it. Every structure was intricately carved, had huge sculptures on top, or had an elaborate stained glass window inside. I had enjoyed visiting Metarie during my first visit to New Orleans, and I had worried that it had been ruined. Luckily, it appeared that the families that owned property here had taken matters into their own hands, and had spared no expense when it came to restoration. We walked Metarie's paths until closing time, 8:00, then made our way back to the trolley.
We arrived back at the house at 9:00 on the dot. Andy was sitting on a couch in the front room when we walked in, and I shot him a sheepish grin. He just shook his head.
"Cuttin' it a bit close there, eh, kids?" We all just laughed.
After everyone was dressed for bed and bathed, we convened in the main room. Andy had built a fire in the gigantic fireplace to ward off the night's chill, and the pleasant aroma of burning wood filled the air. The lights were all turned off, so the only illumination was the soft, flickering, orange glow of the flames. Soon after I sank into one of the luxuriously, downy couches, I felt myself begin to drift off. Before I knew it, someone was shaking me awake.
"Come on, Jack," Jason whispered, "it's 11:00. Time for bed."
"Already?" I blinked groggily. The room was dark, and I could hear the others climbing the stairs to their rooms.
"You fell asleep. We were telling ghost stories." In this place? How ironic.
"Hey, umm... I kind of want to take a walk. Just around the block or so, but... don't tell Andy, okay?" I needed an excuse for not coming to bed right away. Marie would be here soon.
"I don't know. We could both get into some serious trouble if he found out..."
"Look, I'm not going to do anything stupid."
"At least let me come with you. You never know what might happen."
"No. You go up to bed. I need some time alone in the Quarter. Sorry."
"What's going on?" he whispered softly. "You've been acting strange. I know I keep asking, but are you sure you're alright? I'm worried."
"I'm fine. It's just this house..."
"Yeah. Be careful, and wake me up when you get back."
"Yes Mom," I teased.
I made sure that Jason was safely out of sight before I slipped off my bathrobe-- I had concealed an all-black outfit under it-- and put on my black combat-boots. For some reason, this attire seemed appropriate for a night spent dealing with the supernatural. I concealed my robe behind a plant before opening the door and slipping outside.
I guided the group up the street where we boarded the Canal Street trolley. We took it west for about a half hour until it was at the end of it's track, then disembarked. When we stepped out into the street, it was as if we were standing in the city of the dead itself! Cemeteries surrounded us on three sides, and stretched as far as the eye could see. They do not bury their dead in New Orleans. The old Spanish custom of entombing the corpses in mausoleums had been used in the early days of the city, and is still being used to this day.
The first cemetery we visited, Greenwood, was somewhat dilapidated. The mausoleums were all beautiful, but the moss growing up the side and the crumbling mortar gave the whole place an eerie feeling. Chris found that, if he got up close enough to the most badly damaged of the tombs, he could actually catch a glimpse of what was inside. Clara did not appreciate this, and insisted we leave at once.
Knowing that most of the cemeteries around these parts would be in similar states of disrepair, I decided to take the group to Metarie. Since the locals often discouraged tourists from going there, it was hidden from view, and difficult to access. After crossing five lanes of traffic, navigating under bridges, and picking through litter-ridden paths, we finally emerged upon our destination. This was the 'rich folk's' burial ground, and the tombs showed it. Every structure was intricately carved, had huge sculptures on top, or had an elaborate stained glass window inside. I had enjoyed visiting Metarie during my first visit to New Orleans, and I had worried that it had been ruined. Luckily, it appeared that the families that owned property here had taken matters into their own hands, and had spared no expense when it came to restoration. We walked Metarie's paths until closing time, 8:00, then made our way back to the trolley.
We arrived back at the house at 9:00 on the dot. Andy was sitting on a couch in the front room when we walked in, and I shot him a sheepish grin. He just shook his head.
"Cuttin' it a bit close there, eh, kids?" We all just laughed.
After everyone was dressed for bed and bathed, we convened in the main room. Andy had built a fire in the gigantic fireplace to ward off the night's chill, and the pleasant aroma of burning wood filled the air. The lights were all turned off, so the only illumination was the soft, flickering, orange glow of the flames. Soon after I sank into one of the luxuriously, downy couches, I felt myself begin to drift off. Before I knew it, someone was shaking me awake.
"Come on, Jack," Jason whispered, "it's 11:00. Time for bed."
"Already?" I blinked groggily. The room was dark, and I could hear the others climbing the stairs to their rooms.
"You fell asleep. We were telling ghost stories." In this place? How ironic.
"Hey, umm... I kind of want to take a walk. Just around the block or so, but... don't tell Andy, okay?" I needed an excuse for not coming to bed right away. Marie would be here soon.
"I don't know. We could both get into some serious trouble if he found out..."
"Look, I'm not going to do anything stupid."
"At least let me come with you. You never know what might happen."
"No. You go up to bed. I need some time alone in the Quarter. Sorry."
"What's going on?" he whispered softly. "You've been acting strange. I know I keep asking, but are you sure you're alright? I'm worried."
"I'm fine. It's just this house..."
"Yeah. Be careful, and wake me up when you get back."
"Yes Mom," I teased.
I made sure that Jason was safely out of sight before I slipped off my bathrobe-- I had concealed an all-black outfit under it-- and put on my black combat-boots. For some reason, this attire seemed appropriate for a night spent dealing with the supernatural. I concealed my robe behind a plant before opening the door and slipping outside.
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