Haunted Locations: Myrtles Plantation
America is full of haunted locations.
St. Francisville, Louisiana
Louise Jones, personification of the state of Louisiana, felt a familiar sadness wash over her as she stared out the window of her father's car. Next to her, Marianne Bonnefoy AKA Paris, took her niece's hand and gave it a comforting squeeze as they passed a sign that welcomed drivers into the city of St. Francisville.
Alfred noticed his daughter's distress in the rearview mirror and made eye contact with Marianne. He gave her a sad smile before refocusing on the road.
"Don't worry, Honey." America said as they neared the meeting place. "We're only going to be here for a day."
"I know, Daddy." The dark-haired girl replied, softly. Louise then met his eyes in the mirror. "I ain't scared no more."
Paris ran her fingers through Louisiana's black curls and her niece leaned into the touch before sending her aunt a smile.
"While we are here, you can introduce them to your délicieuse cuisine." Marianne said in an effort to distract her. "You know I have a weakness for your crayfish."
Louise grinned while Alfred groaned.
"Really Marianne, it's not even noon and now I'm already hungry." America complained as he parked. The two females laughed.
"Well when you only have a little toast and coffee early in the morning you're gonna get an appetite, Daddy." Louise replied with a smirk as she got out of the car. Her dark brown eyes then caught sight of a very familiar road before shaking her head and followed her father and aunt into the building.
…...
"...and zhat concludes today's meeting." Germany sighed while stacking his papers. "America's daughter, Louisiana, was generous enough to make dinner for everyone down in zhe dining area. Do try to be on your best behavior and not start any fights."
He looked directly at England and France as he said this before heading downstairs with Italy trailing behind like a puppy. When all the nations made it to the dining room, they waited another five minutes before Louisiana walked with Paris. Each were wearing an apron and rolling in trays of various dishes native to the state, including crayfish, gumbo, muffulettas, jambalaya, and po'boys.
"Hey Zio Lovino, I made your favorite." Louise said, placeing a dish of muffulettas in front of the Italian brothers before arranging the other dishes on the nations table.
"You are an angelo, Louise." Lovino said, taking one of the sandwiches and taking a bite. When he saw that his brother liked it, Feliciano took a sandwich and tasted it.
"Mmm. Germany, this is delicious!"
"Ja, it is." Germany said after also trying a muffuletta before helping himself to some crayfish.
"Wow, this is pretty good." Spain commented, trying the jambalaya.
"Amerique, how come you never introduced us to any of your good cooking?" France asked.
America only smiled sadly. "I thought it might've been too risky and might expose my kids before you found out. I'm glad you like it though."
"How is it, Lili?" Switzerland asked.
"It's very good, bruder."
After lunch, the nations went to their respective rooms but not without thanking Louisiana for the meal. The southern state then whispered something into her father's ear. Alfred only gave a nod before escorting Louise outside.
Paris was about to follow but stopped when she heard someone call her. It was France.
"Bonjour Paris!" Francis greeted.
"Bonjour, Monsieur France." Marianne greeted, politely. "My apologies but I must be going now."
"Why the rush, Cherie?" France asked. "I was actually hoping I could speak with you. And there is no need to be formal. You may call me Francis."
"Desole, Mons-I mean, Francis." Marianne corrected herself. "I am afraid that the talk will have to wait. I must meet with Alfred and Louise and it can't wait. I am sorry."
She grabbed her coat but turned back to her country. "I will meet with you when I am not busy and we can arrange a time to speak. D'accord?"
France watched through the glass door as his capital jogged to catch up with America and Louisiana, who were waiting at the beginning of another road. He watched as they spoke for a few minutes, all three bearing grave expressions before Alfred turned on a flashlight and they walked down the road into the night. Francis couldn't help feeling a bit worried for his capital but he also felt a bit of curiosity about what they could be doing. Why was Paris walking out in the dark with America and his daughter? He grabbed his coat and hurried after the trio but kept a distance so he wouldn't be seen.
…...
It was pitch black outside when Paris, America, and Louisiana arrived at their destination. France could only see them because of the flashlight America was carrying. He saw a sign come into view that revealed where they were. The Myrtles Plantation. The road had led them to a beautiful creole-styled house that was surrounded by Spanish moss trees that looked like arms reaching out to those below them. France watched as America took out a set of keys and unlocked the door to the house. Before they entered, France noticed that Louisiana started to tremble and buried her face into her hands. Paris wrapped and arm around the state and whispered something to her. The girl shook her head and wiped her face before walking into the house. Alfred and Marianne shared a look before following her.
Francis snuck up to one of the windows and peeked inside only to see pure blackness. Now that he was on the porch, he noticed the eerie feeling that seemed to loom over the building and he started to feel the need to be alert. Slowly, France approached the door and he felt dread as soon as he touched the doorknob but his capital was in there. What if America was getting Paris involved with something dangerous. The door creaked as France opened it. He quickly turned on the flashlight on his phone before entering the house.
The interior of the house had a charming antebellum design. Right when Francis walked in, he noticed the chandelier on the ceiling and the red carpet next to the staircase.
"Hello?" He called out. "Amerique? Paris?"
He received no response but a few moments later, he heard footsteps on the floor above them.
Ah, they must be upstairs. France thought. When he was nearly up the stairs, he heard what sounded like someone else climbing the steps behind him. Alarmed, he turned his phone to face whoever was behind him. But no one was there...
But he could still hear the footsteps. Francis was frozen, his heart pounded in his chest, and he could only stare at where he was hearing those footsteps coming closer and closer. Suddenly, they stopped at what sounded like the seventeenth step. Once again, all was silent. All France could hear was the rapid beating of his heart.
It...must have been my imagination. Francis thought to himself although they did little to calm him.
He screamed when he felt himself falling. Pain erupted in his side once he landed at the bottom of the steps. He groaned before looking up and what he saw made his blood run cold. With the little light in the room, he could see the silhouette of a woman wearing a long dress and a turban and even without seeing her face, Francis could feel the intense hatred as she glared down at him. Scrambling to pick up his phone, France dashed out of the house, only thinking about getting as far away from that place as possible. He didn't stop running until he reached the hotel.
France couldn't stop shaking as he made his way up to his room. As he lay in his bed, Francis tried to sleep but his eyes always flew open whenever he remembered what he saw at the top of those stairs at the Myrtles Plantation house.
…...
The next morning, as the nations got ready to leave, Spain noticed how tired France looked.
"Are you okay, amigo?" Antonio asked.
"Non." Francis responded, tiredly. He was pale, he had dark bags under his eyes, and his hair was a mess as if he had been tossing and turning all night. "I don't think I got any sleep at all last night."
Before Antonio could question him further, Paris came up to them.
"Francis, I-Mon Dieu!" Marianne gasped when she noticed how bad her country looked. "Are you alright? You look awful!"
"I had a long night, I'm afraid." Francis replied before yawning into his hand.
"Whoa, France dude, you look terrible." America said when he noticed how worried Paris looked. Curious, Louisiana joined them and raised her eyebrows when she took in France's appearance.
"Amerique," France started, swallowing. "Does anyone live at the Myrtles Plantation?"
"You followed us, didn't you?" Louisiana spat before her father could reply.
"Louise!" Paris scolded.
"Dude, seriously?" America sent the French nation an annoyed look. "If you wanted to check out a haunted house, you could've just asked."
"Qué? Haunted?" Spain questioned before looking back at his friend who had to decency to look guilty. "What is going on, France?"
"I only followed because I was concerned for my capital." France defended. "When you went into the house, it was like you disappeared. I couldn't even see your flashlight, Amerique."
"That's because I turned it off as soon as we went inside." America explained. "Whenever my states visit a town in which there's a haunted location, they visit the place to try to let the spirits know that someone hasn't forgotten them."
"However, it is very dangerous." Paris added. "Not all spirits are just seeking attention. There are others who only want to cause harm."
"I'm guessin' that's why you look like you've just seen the Devil." Louisiana said, bluntly. "Next time, just ask if you want to see one of my haunted landmarks. I've got plenty of 'em."
"Non-merci, once was enough for moi." France said, wincing as he touched his side. "I would rather not get thrown downstairs a second time."
Oh no, Francis was not following America or his states again. He would rather not run into another incident like the Myrtles Plantation. To this day, he shudders whenever he thinks about what he saw inside that house.
Since it's October, I thought I'd write about the haunted landmarks and legendary creatures in North America. Call it an early Halloween treat. I'll be making more of these throughout this month.
The Myrtles Plantation is one of America's most haunted locations where the ghosts of slaves and an owner of the property are said to reside. One of the owners was shot on the porch and he made it inside before he died on the seventeenth step on the stairs. Many people have also taken pictures of apparitions of former slaves on the property.
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