Isle Of Salt

Chapter One

Catia

She brought the car to a stop as her eyes caught a glimpse of the red light. It hung suspended in the air just in front of her as she tapped her slim fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for it to change. The hum of the old radio rung in Catia's ears as it had not been adjusted to any station before she picked up the rusted Cadillac from the airport. Being a foreigner in a new country was hard enough, but having to drive on the opposite side of the road was a new level of difficulty, and so, to simplify the matter, she left the radio alone.

    The drive from the airport to Point Renèe was long, as the small town was located on an isolated isle just off the coast of Louisiana and the only way in or out was the bridge connecting the parish to its mainland. While the town was still part of the Southern country, Catia had been told multiple times by her father that the settlement had an eerie sense to it, as it was home to a multitude of mysterious people who were not eager to share their past. Her father also spun stories about the haunted nature reserves that stretched across most of the land, and how it was home to dark and eerie creatures of the night. Catia knew her father's stories to be of the imagination, but she couldn't help but let them linger at the back of her mind as she came closer to the small town.

    The warm air that drifted in from the open window was a change from the cold she had been acclimatised to in the north of England, the bitter and chilling weather that would frost glass and turn ones' lips blue. She had always preferred the heat, perhaps it was because Louisiana was her mother's country and to her dismay, she had been told many times how similar she was to her. Catia had no interest in being like her mother as she would rather be her father's daughter, kind at heart and rather quiet, unfortunately, she was far from that.

  She glanced at the watch attached to her arm, she had been sitting for five minutes and the lights still had not changed. Scrunching her brow into a frown, she glanced left and right down the adjacent streets, there was no one. Even the old, peeling buildings that rose either side of the street were silent, no one came in or out of them, strange considering it was a Sunday and back in England the town would be buzzing by early morning with newcomers and townsfolk trying to get into the nearest tavern to prepare for the latest football match. Huffing, Catia glanced around one more time before she brought her eyes back to the red light. Glaring intensely at it, she unconsciously tapped her pointer finger down on the steering wheel as fast as she could, and as her finger made contact with the leather, the light flicked green. Coming back to her senses, she shifted her hand down to the gear and pushed it into first before slowly moving the car forward.

    The drive from the Town Square to Greenward Cottage was longer than expected. Perhaps it was because her aunt was such a reclusive person and preferred to live in solitude, or maybe it was due to the fact the woman was apparently insane and was forced by the rest of the town to live so far away. Catia had no idea what the woman would be like, she had never met her before, only heard stories from her father, although once she did receive a card for her tenth birthday with a pressed daisy inside. That was all the evidence she needed to assume her aunt was the 'unstable' woman of the town. Although, the term 'aunt' was used loosely, as the woman she was about to meet was her mothers' stepsister. Beyond that, Catia had never seen her nor had any personal interactions with the woman. What was she expecting to find at the end of the long driveway? A pale woman dressed in dull pastel dresses, with thin wiry hair that was pulled back into a strict bun in an attempt to banish her facial wrinkles. That was indeed the set image Catia had in her mind, but as she slowed the car down to a stop, she knew her expectations would be shattered.

    Behind a wall of trees, she could faintly see a sun-bleached house that she would be able to reach only by foot, as vines threatened to entangle anything greater than a human. Turning the exhaust off, she climbed out of the car and slammed the rusted door shut before retrieving her bags from the boot. Not bothering to lock the vehicle, considering she was in the middle of nowhere, Catia began the short walk to the house. Her jeans clung to her sweaty legs, and her loose mesh shirt flapped against her skin with the breeze that smelt sweeter than anything she had ever come across, as she was used to the smell of car exhausts and the strong scent of alcohol on her father's breath, so the change of scene was pleasantly accepted.