The heat of the New Orleans summer clung to Abigail’s back as she walked through the small cemetery in Abita Springs during dusk. At fifteen, Abigail was already mentally older. Standing at 5”5, her caramel colored skin shimmered softly in the fading light, and her long curly hair swayed in the wind, untamed kinky waves. Her light green eyes, always scanning the world as if she was one step ahead. Outgoing and smart, she had an energy that was magnetic, though there was a quite thoughtful side to her that very few saw. The air was thick with humidity and the large oak trees gently swayed in the warm breeze. In the growing twilight, the graves had a slightly ancient look. To most people, the cemetery was just old withering stones that marked the dead, but to Abigail, it was something more, it was a place where the lines between the living and dead were blurred. Abigail paused by a gravestone. Decorated with cobwebs and a thick layer of dust the name engraved in the stone wrote Lucien Emanuel, her great grandfather. While growing up, she had heard stories about him: whispers of his power, connections with the spirits, and the family’s fall from grace. Abigail had recently felt a strong connection or pull to the grave, but tonight was different. The air felt heavy with expectation. Then the whisper came. It was soft at first, almost unnoticeable. Abigail… Her heart skipped a beat. She whirled around but there was nothing there, only the sound of rustling leaves and the faint croaking of frogs off in the distance. Abigail… The voice repeated only this time it was louder and clearer like a command. Her breath hitched. The air around her began to hum with energy and for a moment the cemetery felt alive, like spirits of the dead were waiting for something or someone to listen to them. Her eyes darted back to the gravestone. Beneath the name, there was a symbol she hadn’t seen before. A pattern of circles and lines, the symbol had a dark glow to it. It was familiar, but she couldn’t place it. The whisper grew louder. Find us Abigail. You are the chosen one. Suddenly, the ground beneath her feet started to rumble. She knew she couldn’t ignore the signs any longer. The recent dreams and visions had led her here. From a young age, Abigail had heard the stories of Papa Legba, the gatekeeper of the living and the dead, told in quiet tones during family gatherings. Her grandmother had often spoken about how Papa Legba held the keys to the spiritual realm, opening the doors for souls to pass through and the communication between the dead and the living. Her family had once been deeply rooted in these beliefs and had regularly performed rituals to honor the spirits. Abigail remembered her grandmother lighting candles and leaving offerings at the crossroads, a sight where spirits can be contacted. She remembered how her grandmother would whisper prayers to Papa Legba for healing and protection. Even though the practices had faded over the years, the stories remained, like echoes of a past that couldn’t be forgotten. Abigail hadn’t thought about the rituals in years, but suddenly standing before her great-grandfather’s grave, the memories came rushing back. She knew the only thing that could connect her with her ancestors was Papa Legba. He could open the way for her ancestors to speak, to reveal truths that have been buried for so long. Her heart began to race as she knelt beside the gravestone. She didn’t fully understand the path she was taking, but she knew she had no choice. The spirits were calling and Papa Legba was the only one who could guide her through the coming darkness. The wind shifted, carrying a low rumble. She spoke with a tremble in her voice, “Papa Legba, please guide me and let me hear the voices of my ancestors.” A sudden chill flew over the cemetery and Abigail felt the presence of another being. Suddenly the dried-up leaves left on the ground began to dance rhythmically and she could feel the strong energy in the air once more. From the shadows, a dark elderly man wearing a straw hat and a cane emerged. His pointed orange eyes full of knowledge met hers.