The Ordinary Monster is Now Available on Amazon!
Here is a taste . . .
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Hector’s face flushed red with shame; the shame that a man feels when he knows that he has been cuckolded by his wife; the shame a man feels when he is aware that everyone around him also knows; the shame a man feels when he realizes that he had been blind to the true intentions of his friend.
A burning anger accompanied that flush of shame on its march from his belly to his face and, without even knowing what he was doing, Hector reached out and picked up the hoe that he had previously discarded on the ground. He did not think about why he had picked up that instrument. His mind was empty of thought and his heart devoid of feeling. He did not see the rays of sun that streaked down from the sky and alit upon his shoulders. Although, he did not see that light, he felt the heat; but the heat he felt did not emanate from those rays, rather they came from deep within him. Nor did he consider what he was doing as he quickened his pace toward . . . the other man. His body moved forward of its own volition and without his command.
In his mind’s eye, Hector sat far away watching the events unfold and wondered what he was doing.
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Junior lie on his stomach in the pile of bedding that sat on the dirt floor trying not to put any pressure on the bluish-purple welts that crisscrossed the scars from older lashings. With his head tucked into the crook of his elbow, he fought back the tears that threatened to erupt from his eyes. But these were not tears of pain. These were tears of frustration and anger — an anger that bordered on rage . . .
Junior continued to seethe . . . It was not his fault that he now had only those two fingers. It was not his fault that his sister, Luciana, lie in a hospital bed some twenty miles away unable to move her legs. It was not his fault that Hector had come into their house that morning . . .
For a brief moment, Junior thought that his fury would overwhelm him. A heat rose within him that burned. It burned almost as much as the charring of the cast iron that licked and finally ate his fingers. That searing urged him to rise from his bedding and retrieve his nemesis — the old leather belt . . . It whispered into his ear that he should take that evil tool and turn its fury onto his father and that he should do this now, tonight, while the old man was drunk and passed out and unable to fight back . . .
Slowly Junior rose from his place on the floor intent upon obeying the whispers of his fury . . .
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[30 years later]
The men at the table laughed at Johnny's bawdy joke about the hooker and the pirate as Junior pulled his bottle of beer toward his mouth to draw another swig. Halfway to his mouth, he stopped and stared at the front door of the bar.
Through that door an old man walked in. Although it had been almost thirty years since the morning that Junior had lost his fingers, there was little doubt in Junior’s mind who that old man was. Sometimes, there was no disguise that could hide the true nature of a monster.
Even as Junior continued to smile, the laughter in his eyes faded away. The grin that he wore morphed into an altogether different one; one that was much more malevolent in its nature. His eyes hardened as he watched that old man belly up to the bar and he felt a burning deep within.
Junior brought the bottle to his lips and drained it in one swallow. He continued to laugh and joke with his friends, but all the while, his eyes never lost sight of the old man who sat at the bar.
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When two monsters collide — who will survive?
Find out in The Ordinary Monster.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/057847848X