Things are never what they seem... in a foggy Louisiana swamp
The Secret in Mossy Swamp
Nikki Landry Swamp Legends, Book 3
by Rita Monette
Mirror World Publishing
Middle Grade Adventure/Mystery
Living in a tiny houseboat, Nikki is stuck with sharing a room with her little brother, Jesse, who does what little brothers do best…torture their sisters. Fed up, she decides to build a place of her own…a tree house where no boys are allowed. Meanwhile, something strange is happening on Bayou Platte. Things and people are coming up missing…and little stick dolls covered in moss, known locally as “signs” from the legendary Rougarou, are showing up in their place.
Is the Rougarou really to blame? Can Nikki get to the bottom of the mystery before things get worse? Find out in this third instalment of the Nikki Landry Swamp Legends Series!
“Where’s Mossy Swamp?”
“It’s a thick swamp—part of the Atchafalaya—down yonder, past the row of islands along Bayou Platte. They began calling it that about twenty years ago…after some, uh…people…spotted a creature out there. They say it was covered in moss, and the legend is—”
Mama slammed a pot down from across the room. It was her way of telling Papa to stop with the scary legend talk.
“Was it the rougarou?” I asked.
I’d heard about that old rougarou ever since I was old enough to walk. Grandpas and other old people would say that if you didn’t behave, the rougarou would get you, or they’d make horrible faces and come after you growling pretending they were the creature. So, because of all that, kids living in the bayous grew up believing in the strange werewolf creature that roamed the swamp, eating up bad children. Then, after you absolutely knew it existed…like an evil Santa…they’d take it back and tell you there’s no such thing.
“No such thing, Tadpole. And whatever they saw, there’s a logical explanation.” Papa winked at me. “But right now I have more important things to worry about. I’ve got a missing kid on my hands. I just hope he didn’t wander into that swamp alone. I gotta run to the sheriff’s office to see if he has anyone that can go and positively identify that pirogue. I hate to tow it in, in case he’s still out there. I’m sort of hoping the boat isn’t his, or if so, it ended up there on its own, because I hate to think of the alternative.”
“Alternative?” I asked, ignoring Mama’s signal.
“There are a lot more dangers in that swamp than a moss-covered creature,” he said.
Moss creature? Something else to keep me awake at night? My papa, who was never scared of anything, had an awful worried look on his face. I guess he was just fretting that the boy might have become gator food. I shuddered, then shrugged it off. I had more important things to worry about myself. I had a tree house to build.
Rita Monette was born and raised in Southwest Louisiana. She loves to write stories set in the beautiful, yet mysterious, bayous and swamps of her home state. She is currently retired and lives with her husband, four lap dogs, and one lap cat, in the mountains of Tennessee. Besides writing and illustrating, She enjoys participating in festivals and craft shows where she does face and body art, along with selling her books.
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