Goddess of Everything by Paul DeBlassie III - Book Tour
Excerpt
His mother wailed again. Nighttime darkness continued to descend, and
the wind stayed its brutal course at Father’s funeral. Mother Juana
hadn’t noticed the spirit of a man cloaked in light beside Gabriél. He
wasn’t Gabriél’s father. He was more than a man; he was everything
that Father was and more. Through the corner of his eyes, Gabriél saw
the white-bearded old man. In many ways, in many forms, I will come.
The words were close as heartbeats and breath. He knew if he turned
and looked directly at him, the man would disappear. The light was
intense, like rays of the sun. The old man had something to say.
Suddenly, unclean sounds went into Gabriél’s ears and chest—crackling
and squealing voices rising from under the earth and into his body,
trying to block out the lingering presence of the old man and his
words. Like a god, the white-bearded man lifted his right hand,
fingers spread. The noise went up from the ground into his palm, a
mighty hand with powerful magic.
Gabriél’s mind became silent as a windless autumn night, magic making
him still inside, just like he was when in his bedroom reading alone.
The old man was strong and made what was bad cease. Even as the
underworld racket stopped, the graveyard winds kept up their awful
screams.
The quiet of the man and the moment wrapped strong and warm arms
around Gabriél. Invisibility stood guard around the old man. Mother
could not see him. No one could see him. He was there only for
Gabriél. He bent down beside Gabriél and touched his shoulder. A
crystal clear calm made the shrieking wind and the crying women and
the priest’s strange prayers seem far, far away.
Mother’s red hair blew in the wind like it was on fire. It didn’t
scare Gabriél because of the old man, his warm and solid hands steady
on Gabriél’s shoulders. His kind eyes said he was ten thousand times
ten-thousand-years old. His mother’s red hair and shrieking prayers no
longer scared him.
Then the old man spoke, and through Gabriél’s mind sent a message,
LISTEN... WHEN THE DAY GOES AWAY AND THE NIGHT COMES, REMEMBER I AM
HERE. He touched Gabriél’s heart. LISTEN.
Gabriél’s mother abruptly glanced down at him. He looked into her
eyes and knew she hadn’t heard the old man, but she had a squint in
her eyes. Her eyes glowed red, and the old man’s hands did not move
from Gabriél’s shoulders.
Big branches from the cottonwoods cast long moon shadows over the
grave. Now they looked like skinny people scratching at each other,
cloaking the old man. The wind picked up its screeching.
Gabriél’s heart pounded like stampeding horses.
Mother squeezed his hand. His fingers tangled together, tips burning
with pain. Then she looked away and wailed more loudly than ever.
The old man continued, TELL NO ONE ABOUT ME. I WILL HELP YOU AS A
BOY. I WILL HELP YOU AS A MAN. LISTEN. The old man motioned again to
Gabriél’s heart and then touched between Gabriél’s eyes, the brow
point.
The old man stopped and looked up.
Gabriél caught his mother’s gaze.
She’d seen the old man, pointed at him, and screeched like the evil
winds.
Blistering dust and grit blinded Gabriél. He pulled his hand away
from his mother and rubbed his eyes and tried to clear them, but when
he looked again, squinting, he saw that the light of the old man had
vanished.
His mother was wrapped in a cloud of dust. Out of the cloud came a
coyote, foam curling from its mouth. It howled, and an instant later
legions of dust devils took over the landscape and swallowed it in
clouds of dust, trash, and tumbleweeds.
Mother reappeared beside him and picked him up. She screeched with a
million hateful voices. His heart beat rapidly, fluttered like a flock
of sparrows flying away. Catching his breath was hard.
“The night plays tricks,” his mother seethed, her breath hot and
rank.
The winds suddenly ceased. Brown and gray clouds gave way to
blackness that closed in and covered the full moon. Spirits of
children rose out of their graves. They pointed at Gabriél and his
mother. Their hands and fingers grew and reached to grab him, take him
away under the earth.
Mother swept her black shawl over Gabriél. She whispered, “I will
protect you, mijo.”
They escaped into the jet-black night.
Paul DeBlassie III, Ph.D., is a psychologist and award-winning writer living in his native New Mexico, crafting visionary thrillers energized with trickster mischief and natural magic.
https://www.pauldeblassieiii.com/
https://www.facebook.com/pdeblassieiii
https://twitter.com/pdeblassieiii
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/56373593-goddess-of-everything
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