Blending prehistoric fiction, demonic and supernatural suspense, and mythology/Biblical retelling to create a dark theological thriller.
For readers of dark fantasy, supernatural and cosmic suspense, mythology retellings, occult fiction, prehistoric history and anthropology, primal narratives, philosophical and psychological studies, and character-driven chronicles.
Sima de los Huesos
I do not make a man commit atrocities. I cannot. That is the first rule. I can learn his weaknesses, whisper a few chosen words into his heart, guide his thoughts which will dictate his actions – but his agency is his. That is the greatest flaw of the Chosen Plan: We cannot force man to do evil.
But the Father cannot force him to do good, either.
That is the war.
And this is my first mission.
The Creator was angry, because His children worshiped false gods
and he sent forth a cataclysm to cleanse the Earth.
For seven days and seven nights, stars fell from the skies
and the earth shook, and fires raged, and the world was covered in darkness
before the deluge that washed the world clean.
Jerusalem
He dines with sinners and rescues whores. He professes that those who serve Him will be rewarded, and He casts out devils, multiplies fishes, and calms the waves.
So why hasn’t He come?
Why hasn’t He come?
Why hasn’t He come?
I am alone, drowning in an ocean of death and damnation and despair, swallowing the misery of all of the souls I have led astray. Choking on them. Suffocating in them.
Yet I cannot die.
It will not stop.
I am not yet destroyed.
Why am I not yet destroyed?
I was impatient. I was foolish. And now, I too have fallen from grace. Stuck with an immortal body that cannot be saved by the Father because it is an abomination created by the lust of the Fallen.
Some call us Nephilim.
Orhay calls us privileged.
But what we really are is damned.
The irritation I have planted will slowly eat away any lasting pains of conscience, and soon he will be numb to her rejections.
He will not apologize, because he does not want her to think she is right.
He will not accept help, because he does not want her to think he is weak.
He will fall, all on his own, because he cannot stand the idea that anyone else might be able to control him.
Theoretically, he is right. I cannot make Roca commit atrocities.
I smirk to myself.
If I tell him what he wants to hear; if I shine a light on the darkness he wants to keep hidden; if I expose his monsters, his agency will effectively be under my command.
With a growl, Roca turns and ducks inside the cool darkness of his barraca, leaving everything his madre expects of him laying in the dirt.
He has no idea the power he has already given me.