Tales of a Nomadic Story Teller
Adolfo Rico, Jr
Tales of a Nomadic Story Teller
Adolfo Rico Jr
Copyright 2013 Adolfo Rico Jr
Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com
Table of Contents
Tales of a Nomadic Story Teller
BOURBON STREET
Plume Serpent Rises Book One
Tales of a Nomadic Story Teller
Beware the Beastie during a Blood Red Moon
The beastie is at top of Big Ben howling.
The beast howls. In anguish but of what?
Does he howl in sadness or anger?
No human knows, but the beast knows the answer.
The moon is blood red and full.
The Piper asks for payment for the services he rendered.
The price is paid in full.
The beastie is running down the streets of London.
Free from its shackles.
Imprisonment; not an option.
The enigma that lies in the beast's mind, no one can figure it out.
Not even he who sends an eerie, frightening howl can decipher it.
Best for anyone not to cross his path tonight.
For he shall not show no mercy, to anyone.
Beware don't say I didn't warn, ye!!!!
Is it an appointment with Destiny?
The day is April 6, 2009. The city of New Orleans.
A man of mixed ancestry wonders this city,
Has he been here before?
He is not sure. But something, something stirs in his blood.
Is it the answer? He's not sure.
Something or someone calls for him to be here.
In his dreams he sees a ship sailing from the Golden Age of Piracy.
It sails eternally in the oceans of his dreams.
Crew members greet him. Yet he cannot see them.
The man hears his mates tell him to look up and see the tattered sails.
The ship moans and creaks since time immemorial.
The specter of a sailor long past looks up and sees the moon
peak thru the clouds in between the holes of the sails.
He looks up at the Quarterdeck. He yearns to take the wheel.
But it's the entrance to the cabin that catches his eyes.
Every time he walks towards the doorway of the cabin.
The doorknob vanishes, just as he puts his hands on it.
This scenario plays over and over again. Time and time again.
Never does he enter the cabin.
The ship sails ever onward to its home.
The home port of this ship?
Why, New Orleans of course!
But how can it be? Déjà vu? Perhaps; perhaps not.
Secrets revealed, veils lifted, small glimpses of what could have been.
For what can be; may have already happened. Maybe, it hasn't occurred at all.
Nothing is sure here in New Orleans.
Everything is in a constant state of flux.
The living and those who have passed on are here.
If you have the gift you will definitely know.
Oh yes! They're certainly here.
As they say in New Orleans nothing happens by chance here. Nothing!
What is real? When isn't it real?
Here in the Crescent City you can't tell where one ends and the other begins.
BOURBON STREET
Home to every kind of pirate, buccaneer, swindler and anything else you can think of.
As Jack Sparrow said, "Anything that a man wants or needs is here!" Yes Paradise.
The house of The House of The Rising Sun is here.
Where many check in but few ever leave.
Perdition feels at home here. Redemption and Salvation don't exist in this location.
The only thing certain on this avenue is Ole Jack Smiley (Grim Reaper) he loves this place.
The man mentioned earlier is making his way to 727 Bourbon St.
To a bar named the "Funky Pirate" to meet the love of his life.
He enters the bar.
A mountain of a man named "Big Al" is playing The Blues and singing
songs that rings true to everyone who has loved and has lost in the game of love.
This man is dressed like Humphrey Bogart in the movie "Casa Blanca" he's wearing a white and black tux.
He goes to the bar and pulls out a cigar out of his coat pocket and lights it.
The gent blows out several rings of smoke, and he waves to the bartender to pour him a double shot of bourbon.
The pungent aroma of the cigar offends the nostrils of those who are sitting near him.
The offended parties make faces and move away from him.
He laughs inwardly and smiles at them with disdain.
The bartender nods in silent agreement.
If a man can't have the choice of his poison to drink and enjoy his cigar or cigarette these people don't belong in this joint.
The man blinks for one second and he could've sworn he saw shades of ole dead pirate nodding their approval.
One of them pulls out a bottle of rum and takes a deep swig of it. This can't be true.
Meanwhile the music continues to play. It must be the liquid spirits of the bourbon he's been drinking that are playing tricks on him.
He pulls out his pocket watch and takes a look at it. His Paramour has not arrived.
It's close to eleven o'clock she should be arriving soon.
They had sworn to each other they would meet here.
But Destiny has other plans for him. For what should have been; won't be.
Destiny's sister Fate will make sure of this.
So the gent of mixed ancestry realizes it getting close to midnight. His spirit is restless.
He takes out his watch once more.
The front of the watch has a silver dollar of 1943 on the front casing,
The watch is opened and the time is close to midnight.
With a sad realization the man sighs. The veil of lies has been lifted.
The bitter truth revealed; his beloved is not coming.
He orders another shot of bourbon. One more for the road.
The poor dejected lover reaches behind his bar stool and grabs his black overcoat.
He had brought it with him just in case it would rain later this tonight.
Thunder and lightning are putting on a show for him.
The poor man feels that even The Creator is in agreement with his mood.
The gentleman pays his tab and steps outside.
His cigar is just about out so he crushes it underneath his leather shoe.
Just like his feelings he had for the woman he cared about so much.
His spirit compass spins wildly in his head. And most of all in his soul.
Where it points he does not care.
But Destiny does and she will guide him to his appointment.
The man who dresses like Rick from "Casa Blanca" walks down Bourbon Street.
He sees people dressed as pirates strolling up and down the Rue.
That's right there is a huge pirate party being hosted by the local charities of New Orleans.
Time seems to stop for a second; once more his eyes play tricks on him.
The man from ages past. Now living in the present looks into a puddle of water.
It's his reflection in the puddle that throws him for a loop.
It's him, but not him. The man looking back at him is wearing different attire, altogether.
Yet he recognizes himself. Even in that outfit.
The Blood of Buccaneers runs deep in him.
He shakes his head to clear his fuzzy vision.
A couple dressed as privateer's bump into him
accidentally.
No words need to be exchanged. The flintlock pistol says it all.
The man in the tuxedo looks into the puddle of water out of his peripheral vision and sees himself and the couple dressed in costume.
With one exception. They're the ones in Halloween attire, or is it the other way around?
The other man nods and whispers, "Nothing changes mate, only the clothing!"
When he turns to answer the man. The couple has vanished.
Destiny and her sister Fate are starting to turn this man's world upside down by the second.
He hears the bells toll from the cathedral. It is said salvation is never far.
But if you stay long enough in an unsavory area you might not find it at all.
The splatter of raindrops on his head brings him back to reality.
He tilts his face towards the heavens and lets the cold rain drops sober him up.
After a few seconds of this he feels more alert.
He walks a route long inscribed in his spirit the names of the streets don't matter.
The man in the tux arrives at Jackson Square.
There in the square sitting alone is a woman behind a collapsible table.
On the table is an old kerosene lantern, plus tarot cards.
This woman is the epitome of saucy wenches of the pirate era.
He's frustrated; no matter how hard he tries to get away from the pirate festivities he can't.
The real reason he came to New Orleans has now appeared.
Right in front of him is a femme fatale that doesn't displease his eyesight, at all.
Destiny, it can sometimes personify itself when she feels like it. And tonight is one of those nights.
This muse's skin is a mixture of many races. Not too dark, not too light.
The colors of her eyes seem to change from slate gray to ice blue to violet.
Her smile is coquettish and inviting.
Her tri-corner hat is red, but with
