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Genre: Literary Fiction
About Peco BobLocation: Cheese Land, America Home Region: Age:57 Favorite novels: Parable of the Sower, Trinity, The Stand, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Road, Currently reading Cutting For Stone. Favorite writers: Stephen King, Ray Bradbury, Leon Uris, Octavia Butler Favorite music: Vintage Christmas including acapella choir (Robert Shaw). Also Teja Bell, Deep Forest, Jane Siberry (depends entirely on the time of day, what's at hand, my mood, what might happen) Non-noveling interests: Anything nature!!!!!!!! Everything animal, vegetable, insect, bird, fish, reptile....Painting, singing outside, serious daydreaming, storms and weather. Things I cannot know. I am in awe every single day of something I see or perceive. |
Joined: October 14, 2008 This Year: Official Participant NaNoWriMo History: NaNoWriMo posts: 0 NaNoWriMo buddies: 1
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Brief Author Bio: I've got some novels in me, I can feel 'em! Slacker at heart with big aspirations! |
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Synopsis: The Jesus Tree
A tale of six intertwined lives forged by unforgiving anger and hurt. One winter a mysterious event reveals to each a truth about themselves that is slowly destroying their lives. A truth that is their hatred and shame. Tommy understands his violent act triggered all that is unfolding and that telling his truth may somehow set things right. But Tommy is a mean shell of a man and afraid of life and everyone in it. And it will take more than the ghostly apparition of a baby to make him talk.
Excerpt: The Jesus Tree
Mercedes slammed the bottle down causing a slosh of liquor to spill heavy droplets on the bar.
“You are either an idiot or as mean as my Randy was. You’re telling me you drove an hour here so you could drink, leaving your uncle and a baby out in the worse storm we’ve had this winter? My God, a baby!! You walk away from a baby for a beer?”
Mercedes looked up towards the ceiling, her lower lip was trembling.
“Oh you poor baby...oh, my baby.”
Tears welled in her eyes, melting mascara. Gray, then black tears rolled down her cheeks. She lowered her head.
“Tommy....use.... my phone”. She was now gasping for air between sobs.
“Call the police..... and show..... me.... where they are..... right now! Oh, how could you... hurt...... the little baby?”.
Mercedes walked to her purse at the end of the bar and pulled out her cell phone. She rushed back to Tommy and shoved it in front of his face. She was sobbing harder.
“I...I can’t...talk...”.
Ernie sat stone still , staring at the bottle. Tommy looked at Mercedes and felt the gut tight grip of panic take hold. What if Mercedes was right and it was a baby and what if that baby and Frank were dead and instead of calling from Patterson’s he drove over an hour to the bar? He could be tried for some kind of something and sentenced to jail and be in their with the likes of her ex-husband and guys that like nothing better than hurt people and.....
Mercedes shook his shoulders.
“Make the call...... NOW!” She wasn’t crying anymore.
“NOW!”
A dark black streak sliced down the middle of each of Mercedes' cheeks. Red lips, white powdered face, eye streaks; Tommy saw the face of an evil clown playing a real bad joke on his life.
“NOW!!!!!”
She was jabbing the air in front of his face with the phone. He was afraid to touch it. It was a bad clown prop, high voltage. The call could kill him. His hands shaking, Tommy took the phone from Mercedes, half expecting a shock.
“NOW!!!!”
He slowly dialed 911. And in a soft, breaking voice, Tommy told a much shortened version of his now urgent tale.
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