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Here's a summary. The Carpenter family is huddled around the family
matriarch, Nana, who is upset about a news article based on a girl being burned as a witch.
Leah is standing against the wall and begins to see what she thinks is a vision of what happened to the girl who was accused of being a witch in New Guinea.
(The witch burning did happen a few months ago.)
Here's today's peek.
Her family circled her grandmother, trying to calm her down without much success. Leah leaned back against the wall, the offending newspaper still in her hand, she wanted to throw it to the ground and flee. An image took shape in her mind. It was dark, most likely night. The sound of running, yelling, and then screaming, a long prolonged scream as if whoever uttered it felt absolute terror. A spark charged the night, then caught fire and became a flame, growing into an orb of light. It illuminated sweaty, dark faces with feverish eyes and determined countenances. Two strong men stripped to the waist held a woman between them. Her long hair covered her face as she struggled.
Off to the side, a chair sat on a dais. An almost skeletal man sat there, garbed in a long robe. His lips quirked up as the men wrestled the woman, who wore a coarse, shapeless gown, to a standstill in front of him. A brutal push shoved her to her knees. The sound of weeping almost broke Leah’s heart. She was watching what had happened in New Guinea only days before.
No doubt, the man on the dais had caused this woman to be in such a situation. The crying continued as the man ordered. “Let me look on the face of the witch.” The surrounding crowd hissed and murmured. Most threw their hands in front of their faces or looked away as if looking at the woman’s face might cause harm. She couldn’t. The woman deserved her respect. One guard grabbed her long dark hair and yanked, snapping her head up. Despite the tears glistening on her skin, her expression was defiant. Her face was familiar. It should have been, since she saw it every morning in the mirror as she brushed her hair.
Her legs, more rubberlike than bone and muscle, slid out from under her, landing her on the floor. What did it mean? Nana used to tell her the visions she received were similar to a tornado watch system. It didn’t necessarily mean the vision would happen, but it was best to get ready for it in case it did. Most of her visions included small things, such as being ridiculed by Lauren and Brianna or failing an algebra test, or slipping on the ice and losing two teeth. It all had happened, except the teeth. Whenever she saw anything glistening like ice, she avoided it, keeping her teeth intact so far.
The image of the man on the dais chilled her, unlike any amount of teeth-cracking ice could. The clothes she wore, the way the man spoke, none of it made sense. Her mother’s voice broke into her daze.
“Leah, what are you doing? Try to be of some help, will you? Go get your grandmother a glass of water. Ethan, go get Nana’s protection heart charm from the box in her bedroom.”
Pushing up to her knees, she watched her brother scamper out of the room to retrieve the charm. Her mother threw her an irritated look, probably because she was still sitting there. Standing, she walked to the kitchen, but she could hear them talking. Her grandmother’s shrill voice carried.
“Maura.” Her voice had an imperious tone that defied her fragile appearance. “Be gentle with your daughter. Soon, she will be called on to make the ultimate sacrifice.”
The ultimate sacrifice? The water splashed over the glass rim as she continued to hold it under the faucet, not seeing it but instead the glee in the man’s face who’d called her a witch. She truly hoped her grandmother didn’t expect her to become a burnt offering.
Turning off the faucet, she tipped the glass to pour out the excess water. Taking a dishtowel, she dried the glass. Nana could trace her ancestry back to Romany gypsies. She claimed this centuries-old bond allowed her to turn the Tarot cards with surprising accuracy for her loyal clients. Leah had doubts about her grandmother’s actual ability, though the fact she’d seen the same clients faithfully for years made Leah wonder. Then there were the crystals and charms strewn about the family home, which kept her from inviting her friends Kendra and Allison over. All she really wanted was just to be another teenage girl obsessed with drama and boys. Well, only the boys part…one boy, Dylan Torres, if she was honest with herself.
As she handed the glass to Nana, their hands touched. Her grandmother’s eyes gleamed dark with intelligence. The brief glance conveyed awareness of Leah’s inner turmoil and comfort. It was the equivalent of kneeling to bury her face against Nana’s shoulder, sobbing out her confusion, her fears, and her inappropriate attraction to Dylan, whose father happened to be a Pentecostal minister. A bad thing about the Pentecosts was the fact they actually believed witches existed and shouldn’t, rather like cockroaches.
As her grandmother’s fingers touched hers, the look, the touch, and the sudden knowledge that her legacy was to never be a normal girl caused her heart to plummet. No matter what excuses she might make for Nana’s uncanny ability, she recognized Nana was never wrong.
If you are interested in reading an advance PDF copy for review purposes, contact me at raynanoire@juno.com.
Your reward, besides the knowledge that you're a wonderful person and a mover and shaker in the literary world, is I will send you mobi copy as soon as it is formatted. A select two dozen advanced readers will receive Initiation tote bags with signed paperback copies of the book.. One of the bags will have a special surprise. ( It's a good one, not a rotten apple type of surprise.)
Here's a summary. The Carpenter family is huddled around the family
matriarch, Nana, who is upset about a news article based on a girl being burned as a witch.
Leah is standing against the wall and begins to see what she thinks is a vision of what happened to the girl who was accused of being a witch in New Guinea.
(The witch burning did happen a few months ago.)
Here's today's peek.
Her family circled her grandmother, trying to calm her down without much success. Leah leaned back against the wall, the offending newspaper still in her hand, she wanted to throw it to the ground and flee. An image took shape in her mind. It was dark, most likely night. The sound of running, yelling, and then screaming, a long prolonged scream as if whoever uttered it felt absolute terror. A spark charged the night, then caught fire and became a flame, growing into an orb of light. It illuminated sweaty, dark faces with feverish eyes and determined countenances. Two strong men stripped to the waist held a woman between them. Her long hair covered her face as she struggled.
Off to the side, a chair sat on a dais. An almost skeletal man sat there, garbed in a long robe. His lips quirked up as the men wrestled the woman, who wore a coarse, shapeless gown, to a standstill in front of him. A brutal push shoved her to her knees. The sound of weeping almost broke Leah’s heart. She was watching what had happened in New Guinea only days before.
No doubt, the man on the dais had caused this woman to be in such a situation. The crying continued as the man ordered. “Let me look on the face of the witch.” The surrounding crowd hissed and murmured. Most threw their hands in front of their faces or looked away as if looking at the woman’s face might cause harm. She couldn’t. The woman deserved her respect. One guard grabbed her long dark hair and yanked, snapping her head up. Despite the tears glistening on her skin, her expression was defiant. Her face was familiar. It should have been, since she saw it every morning in the mirror as she brushed her hair.
Her legs, more rubberlike than bone and muscle, slid out from under her, landing her on the floor. What did it mean? Nana used to tell her the visions she received were similar to a tornado watch system. It didn’t necessarily mean the vision would happen, but it was best to get ready for it in case it did. Most of her visions included small things, such as being ridiculed by Lauren and Brianna or failing an algebra test, or slipping on the ice and losing two teeth. It all had happened, except the teeth. Whenever she saw anything glistening like ice, she avoided it, keeping her teeth intact so far.
The image of the man on the dais chilled her, unlike any amount of teeth-cracking ice could. The clothes she wore, the way the man spoke, none of it made sense. Her mother’s voice broke into her daze.
“Leah, what are you doing? Try to be of some help, will you? Go get your grandmother a glass of water. Ethan, go get Nana’s protection heart charm from the box in her bedroom.”
Pushing up to her knees, she watched her brother scamper out of the room to retrieve the charm. Her mother threw her an irritated look, probably because she was still sitting there. Standing, she walked to the kitchen, but she could hear them talking. Her grandmother’s shrill voice carried.
“Maura.” Her voice had an imperious tone that defied her fragile appearance. “Be gentle with your daughter. Soon, she will be called on to make the ultimate sacrifice.”
The ultimate sacrifice? The water splashed over the glass rim as she continued to hold it under the faucet, not seeing it but instead the glee in the man’s face who’d called her a witch. She truly hoped her grandmother didn’t expect her to become a burnt offering.
Turning off the faucet, she tipped the glass to pour out the excess water. Taking a dishtowel, she dried the glass. Nana could trace her ancestry back to Romany gypsies. She claimed this centuries-old bond allowed her to turn the Tarot cards with surprising accuracy for her loyal clients. Leah had doubts about her grandmother’s actual ability, though the fact she’d seen the same clients faithfully for years made Leah wonder. Then there were the crystals and charms strewn about the family home, which kept her from inviting her friends Kendra and Allison over. All she really wanted was just to be another teenage girl obsessed with drama and boys. Well, only the boys part…one boy, Dylan Torres, if she was honest with herself.
As she handed the glass to Nana, their hands touched. Her grandmother’s eyes gleamed dark with intelligence. The brief glance conveyed awareness of Leah’s inner turmoil and comfort. It was the equivalent of kneeling to bury her face against Nana’s shoulder, sobbing out her confusion, her fears, and her inappropriate attraction to Dylan, whose father happened to be a Pentecostal minister. A bad thing about the Pentecosts was the fact they actually believed witches existed and shouldn’t, rather like cockroaches.
As her grandmother’s fingers touched hers, the look, the touch, and the sudden knowledge that her legacy was to never be a normal girl caused her heart to plummet. No matter what excuses she might make for Nana’s uncanny ability, she recognized Nana was never wrong.
If you are interested in reading an advance PDF copy for review purposes, contact me at raynanoire@juno.com.
Your reward, besides the knowledge that you're a wonderful person and a mover and shaker in the literary world, is I will send you mobi copy as soon as it is formatted. A select two dozen advanced readers will receive Initiation tote bags with signed paperback copies of the book.. One of the bags will have a special surprise. ( It's a good one, not a rotten apple type of surprise.)