Free Banged In The Bayou: Monsterotica Book 1 by Madison Sevier Page A

family. I’d love to think that it could still happen, but for now, I told myself I was one hundred percent happy being single, paying my own bills and living in a cozy, one bedroom apartment in one of the downtown, historic buildings.
    “Which is exactly where I should have stayed instead of attempting to drive to the Gulf of Mexico alone!”
    “Someone please help me.” I prayed, though I almost hoped that no one would answer. Honestly, I was terrified at what type of help would arrive. Nothing against the community, but I’d read and heard enough to know that a young woman on her own and stranded could find herself at the hands of a madman or even a madwoman given the right circumstances.
    The air was as thick as cotton and even when I kicked at a stone, the dust from the dirt road barely made it off of the ground. I couldn’t stand around all day expecting some tow truck to appear out of thin air so I shoved my purse under the front seat and locked the doors of the car before venturing out to find someone, anyone who might have a phone. I knew the chances were slim, but I’d be damned if I’d just sit around waiting. Besides, I’d studied plenty of crime scene reports and seen plenty of scary movies to know that I was better off as a moving target. Just in case, of course.
    Did I mention that I have an overactive imagination?
    “Why don’t I ever wear sensible shoes?” The expensive sandals I’d chosen for the trip were far from comfortable, but the straps were studded with rhinestones and perfectly accentuated my calve s. I realized my one must-have-completely-inappropriate-for-road-trips-walking-or-anything-practical-accessory was now cutting into my ankles. I’d already walked too far from my broken down car to waste daylight by going back for a change in walking attire, so I sat on a large rock beside the dirt road and removed them. Slinging the ridiculous shoes over my shoulder, I trekked onward, deeper into the forest.
    “Of all places!” I was now on the verge of being engulfed in complete darkness, save for the myriad of creepy eyes glaring at me from the trees and bushes. The humidity seemed thicker somehow and something about the atmosphere didn’t feel right. I could turn back, but I knew there wasn’t a soul living where my car had died. I had only one choice. Keep going.
    Luckily, I’d worn thin clothing. Even with the trees shading me, the heat was almost unbearable. I came upon a lake and sat down for a moment. My tube top, now soaked with sweat, had to be removed. I dipped it into the cool water and fashioned it upon my forehead, sliding it back into a make-shift headband, which I hoped would help to keep me cool for a bit. My long, chestnut- brown hair was matted with dirt and sweat, but at least, the fabric kept the majority of it from running down my face. There was nothing I could do about the thin, formerly white shorts I’d worn. They were a complete loss and I had to be grateful for the small but adequate coverage they’d provided. Muddy and stained or not, at least I wasn’t topless with my ass hanging out in the middle of nowhere.
    As I sat there with my arms folded over my chest, I remembered various stories or what most people considered Urban Legends, about the deep swamps of Louisiana. There’d been the ghost of Tom Cat Kelly, famous for slaughtering his entire family and then boiling them before eating each and every inch of them. And of course, the various supposed night hunters who preyed on stranded motorists and skinned them alive. However, the one that truly caught my attention years ago, had been the one of The Thing. Legend had it that he or it, was a swamp monster. No one knew its actual gender and there were conflicting descriptions, so they’d dubbed it the Nessiana Monster and that was the name that stuck.
    For about six years, report after report had been filed throughout the state about a large, green, plant-covered creature who’d been spotted carrying