Latter Library New Orleans Novels & Stories

The air in New Orleans was a thick, wet blanket, heavy with the scent of jasmine, decay, and distant rain. It was a city that breathed, a living, sweating entity that clung to the past with a tenacity Jonah had never experienced. He walked a half-step behind Julian Clarkson, the cacophony of the French Quarter—the wail of a trumpet, the laughter from a balcony, the sizzle of grease from a beignet stand—seeming to part around his employer like water around a stone.

“What do you mean, false Supreme?” The sound of a cane from the street resounds in the dark alley, then appears the elderly lady that I have met before, the elder woman in the restaurant. She smile and said. “Because I am the real Supreme of the New Orleans Covenant, Azolla Caroliniana Supreme.”

Their wretched midset rubbed of on Nick with talks of his city being the only real conversation he could hold. "Did you know that?" Nick would start, his introduction to one of his many historical lectures on the great city of Orleans we both lived. "Did you know that Orleans still practices voodoo?" A random fact that I would not expect a regular teenager to know about but then again it was Nick and it was the only thing he knew. "Voodoo is still practiced in Orleans." I had to pretend that I had no interest in the fact like with the rest of the other numerous facts Nick spewed as we walked down the vibrant streets of Orleans after a long day at school.

Darby “Girl, ya wan’ know wha’ dat baby is? Well, let’s find out.” Vermillion drains her glass, reaching behind her to set it on the sofa table. It’s some beverage she calls a Hurricane but all I know is it’s exceptionally sweet and heavy on rum. Opening the small clutch purse that doubles as a wallet and a cellphone case, Vermillion removes a deck of cards. “Now, I may not be de hoodoo queen o’ New Orleans,” in her Louisiana drawl, the name comes out as ‘Na’Arlans’, “but I tell ya, girls, I ain’ never been wrong ‘bout babies.”

"New Orleans?" "Yep! It's beautiful, Kate. It's like something out of a dream. The streets are cobbled and alive, the buildings have that French charm, and at night the city lights feel like you're walking through music. Jazz spills from every alleyway. I swear, it's magic. It's so beautiful." I smiled, closing my eyes for a moment to imagine it. Rhea twirling in a flowy dress on a humid New Orleans street. Liam chasing her with a camera. Laughter echoing off the brick walls. Freedom. Joy. A life she deserved. A life I deserved also.

“Ash gave you his number?!” Skye almost screamed as we threaded on the road leading to New Falls gate. “Yeah,” I nodded like a child and her eyes further widened. “Are you kidding me right now?!” “I’m not lying!” “I know! It’s just crazy. I mean do you even know who that guy is?!” “Oh please,” I rolled my eyes. “Isn’t he like the famous number one guy of New Falls blah blah blah,” “You idiot! His fame is beyond that. Ash Luxton is like one of the underground kings of New Orleans. It’s hard to come in contact with that guy let alone give you his number!”

Mama used to clown Tia Valeria for her excessiveness. "Guess you got time to have two novitiates when you ain't never get no customers," Mama would joke on hot summers with Tia Valeria in years' past. Imani and I got out of the car and took in the small house—"Casa de Oya," or "Oya's House," was written on a sign hanging above the house. It had some "French Quarter" influence in the way it was built, which was odd, since we were in the more residential part of New Orleans; bright pastel pinks and blues with steel-barred balconies weren't common where we were.

New Orleans, Louisiana. At the famous Bourbon Street, where people often find men and women celebrating with whiskey in clasped in their hands, clinking glasses can be heard even from the ones living in the second story building. There was this special day were people would walk and dance in the middle of the street with masks filled with purple, gold, and silver glitter, some even wear purple necklaces and carry skulls that ensemble the voodoo that highly represents the city. Those people who lived upstairs would throw purple and silver jewelry at them from their patios and dance along. Those restaurants they used to go to in the afternoons were astounding. Especially when you eat their spe

It was an odd thing for them to have so much to do after having just arrived, but Alain was willing to see this trip through. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA Port Of New Orlay, New Orleans, Louisiana, The New World (1762)..... The sights and sounds were a welcome change from the silent churning of the ocean waves and the creaking of the wood from the hull of the ship. The smells weren't bad in the least with a thick mix of perfume, strange cuisine, various flowers, and sweets filling the air as Alain moved about the seemingly enchanting city. While he had been no stranger to people of color due to having lived in France for most of his childhood, he

His voice sounded dull, just like when he’d been held underground in Colombia. He heard laughter. Then screaming outside his door. The silence returned as suddenly as the screaming had started. The door to his cell opened. Jeannine stood there, covered in blood. Just like before. J Toulouse Street French Quarter, New Orleans February 2005 “Tell me again why the Major loaned us out to the 8th district commander?” asked Officer Curtis Jones, as he blew smoke out the passenger side window of his patrol car. Despite the winter chill, the music blared in the streets, and the people sang, walking from bar to bar, arm in arm, laughing and enjoying the spectacle that was Bourbon Street.