The Ghosts Of New Orleans (A PARANORMAL RESEARCH AND CONTAINMENT DIVISION (PRCD) CASE FILE) by Terri Reid

was what put Eloise immediately at ease.
    “I’m sorry,” Eloise replied, slowly
moving towards a clear spot on the shoulder and stopping, “I don’t speak
French.”
    “Not, French, Cajun,” he said with
grin, “I say, hello, angel, nice weather we are having.”
    Eloise grinned. “Yes, today the
weather is very nice.”
    “I am Jean-Henri, and you?” he
asked.
    “I am Eloise,” she replied.
    “Ah,” he said, nodding knowingly,
“Eloise, I am amoureux, in love.”
    Eloise chuckled, “You are a
scoundrel.”
    Jean-Henri laughed. “Je fais le
mieux que je peux ... I do the best that I can.”
    Then Jean-Henri looked out of the
window to the scene before him.
    “There was a tempete, storm, no?”
he asked.
    “Yes, there was a bad storm, a
hurricane,” Eloise replied.
    He nodded, slowly, still surveying
the landscape, “An ouragan.”
    He turned back to her. “Many
people,” he paused for a moment to find the words, “Many people die?”
    Eloise nodded sadly. “Yes, Jean-Henri,
many people died.”
    He sighed, “I am not ready for the
cimetière, the cemetery.  I am a fisherman; I cannot stay in the ground.”
    “Do you remember the storm?” asked Eloise.
    “Oui, I was fishing. The sea she is
my bele, my sweetheart, but this night she was the diable, the devil. Her waves
were high - dangereux.”
     He paused for a moment to search
his memory.
    “The wave, she was giant,” he said,
“I was écraser, crushed, by the water.  I went down…”
    He turned to her, tears streaming
down his wrinkled face.
    “Mon dieu, I am not alive!” his voice
held a note of panic in it, “Pourquoi?  Why? Why am I still here?”
    “Jean-Henri, you just stopped for a
while to say good-bye to this place you loved.”
    He shook his head and spoke slowly,
with a dawning awareness. “Non, no, I have not come to say au revoir to my home
– for it is here, in my heart, always,” he said, touching his chest with his
hand. “Non, I have come to have a rendezvous with you, sweet Eloise.”
    “I don’t understand - a
rendezvous?”
    Jean-Henri nodded.  “Oui, I hear
the words from my soul.  I hear the cries from my friends. I hear the voices
from the graves call out to me to warn you.”
    “What can I do for them, Jean-Henri?”
she asked.
    “Out in the gulf there is more
danger than you know. There is one who works to trap the souls of my friends,
my family.  She works with the Diable, the devil; she lost her soul a long time
ago.  You must be careful, mon ange. You must use all the power you have.”
    Eloise nodded. “I am going to Maria
Leveau to seek some information.  I promise that I will be careful.”
    Jean-Henri smiled, satisfied. “I
feel peace inside me now.”
    “Then now, you can go on to the
place you belong.  Look around you. Can you see a light?”
    Jean-Henri turned in the seat and
looked all around, “Ah, yes, lumière.  I see it,  the light.”
    Eloise smiled. “That is where your
journey takes you.  That is where you need to go.”
    Jean-Henri turned back to her and
smiled, ‘Now, one thing before I go. Donne-moi un petit bec doux, cher!”
    He leaned forward a placed a kiss
on her cheek. “A little kiss before I go.”
    Then he winked again, grinned and
turned and walked toward the light.
    Eloise placed her hand over her
cheek and smiled, unaware of the tears sliding down her face. “Au revoir, Jean-Henri.”
    She took a deep breath, grabbed a
tissue, wiped her face and blew her nose.  Then she put the SUV back in drive
and continued towards New Orleans.
    Staying on Route 46, Florissant
Highway, she traveled through St. Bernard Parish, witnessing the devastation the
hurricane had done to that part of the state.  Finally she came into New Orleans.  She followed Claude Street west until it dumped into McShane Place.  The
usually bustling streets were empty except for emergency crews moving
supplies.  The roads were still laden with debris and many signs were down,
awnings