Matter of Time
A Fire and Bloodstone Story
by Naomi Muse ©2017
Laveau gripped his bloodstone tightly in his fist. His accidental venture into time travel hadn’t gone so well the last time, but he was ready to try again. He stepped into the fire. He wanted to see where he would end up. The flames blazed bright purple around him, and he saw the red flecks in his bloodstone begin to glow. Then, as before, everything went black.
He came to on the side of the road. The magnolia trees let him know that he was still somewhere in Louisiana. Or, at the very least, the South.
He stepped into the street to try and determine which way to head to find civilization. A horn blared behind him. He turned to see a 1930s style Ford bearing down on him. There was no time for him to move to safety. He froze. The car screeched to a halt in front of him. The driver rolled down his window and stuck his head out.
“Hey, genius! Get out of the road. What are you lost?”
Laveau snapped out of his trance and jumped back. The driver’s hair was slicked back. He was wearing a white button-down shirt. Something about him seemed familiar.
“Where am I?” Laveau asked.
A woman leaned over the driver. She was wearing a black beret over simply styled hair. She wore a cardigan to match her hat and had a cigarette dangling from her lip.
“Are you lost? Can we give you a lift?” she asked.
“Are you crazy? The coppers are on our trail,” the driver yelled.
“The cops are looking for the two of us. One more guy will throw them off. Especially this guy,” the woman said, motioning to Laveau.
Laveau was sure that she meant especially having a black man riding with them. He got the distinct feeling that he was in an intolerant time. He didn’t want to go anywhere with them. The guy seemed to have a hot temper. Plus, Laveau had enough problems with getting in trouble with the police. Laveau could only travel by fire, and he doubted that there were many opportunities to set a fire in prison.
“Thanks for the offer, but I’m fine. I’ll just be going on my way,” he replied.
The driver squinted at him and scratched his chin. He reached into his lap and pulled his hand back up holding a handgun. It looked like a revolver. He pointed it straight at Laveau’s head. Laveau stumbled back a few steps in surprise.
“See, the thing is, now you’ve seen my face. I can’t have you running your mouth. I’m sure the police would love to have a talk with you. How about you climb on in. Bonnie, get in the backseat. Let me and this guy get acquainted.”
The woman, Bonnie, clapped her hands and did as she was asked. Laveau got in the car and instinctively reached into his pocket for his bloodstone.
“Whoa there guy,” the driver said. “I hope you are not planning on pulling out a heater. That could get messy.”
“No, nothing like that I assure you,” Laveau said.
He slowly pulled out the bloodstone and showed it to the driver.
“A lucky rock? I get it,” the man said, with a laugh. “I’m Clyde. This is Bonnie. Who the hell are you?”
Laveau looked down and saw that Clyde held the gun in his lap still pointed in his direction. He swallowed hard. He introduced himself while putting the bloodstone back in his pocket. Miss Marie had told him the stone would keep him safe on his travels. But Laveau didn’t feel too safe right now.
He looked over his shoulder and nodded to Bonnie while squinting to see if there were any cops in the distance. Laveau suddenly figured out where he was. He was still in Louisiana somewhere, in the early 1930s. The car could have been remodeled sure, but there was no mistaking Bonnie and Clyde. Continue reading