Jean McKinney

Strange Stories for Strange Times

Month: May 2016

In Santa Cruz: A Soledad City Story

 

In Santa Cruz, the border is only a breath away. On summer nights the searchlights of la migra stitch the mountains and the road spins out snakebelly white between Tombstone and Nogales. Taking those empty curves through the grasslands you lean hard on the gas because

 
You’re looking for the Virgin with the cracked feet and the poppy smile. You saw her once, high on a hill: eyeblink glimpse from the back seat of a car bound for Mexico. She was framed in white stone and dead flowers, and offerings of broken dolls and stuffed animals filled the mouth of her cave.

 

You’d thought she vanished under the weight of the years between then and now. But this midnight squirms with nerves and heat lightning and a roadside prayer might cool your fevered soul.  She was somewhere along this two lane. You’ll know her when you see her.

 

South of Patagonia, bats drift against the stars like burned paper.  Your high beams snag a bullet-chopped sign that says Quarantine. In Santa Cruz, rabies always simmers in the blood of the land dwellers.   Cinder-eyed on the fringes of the light,  ibex watch you pass.  They never have rabies.

 

But there’s no Virgin in these parts.  Maybe a mad bat bit her one of these glassy nights. At Lochiel, bronze plaques declare the place a historical site, but you push on. You know the story anyway: doomed boys in blue, cavalrymen dropped by cholera before the Apache ever got close.  They never knew your Virgin anyway. She prays for sorefooted travelers begging with dime store candles and drifters with frayed hearts.

 

She has to be close now. You can trust a hill Maria. She won’t take her broken toes to Nogales where the music fills up the empty spaces in the night.

Up ahead, trees get thick and moths ride the headlights.  You round a skinny curve and river smells rise up around you.  This is it; she’s here.  Cottonwood trees lean on their shadows as you pull over under her hill.   Crowned in white stone she waits in plaster silence while you climb the little path worn down by many feet.

You breathe in the scents of her sanctuary: dying carnations and candlewax and dust.  A ceramic pig and a one-legged doll lie inside her circle.  With no other offering  than your own fractured heart, you wait with them for the mercy she holds in that one chipped eye.

Glitter Girl: To Be Continued?

Glitter GirlblogSo Glitter Girl got a bit of a redesign the other day, with some tweaking on the cover,  new front matter and one key detail in the story.    But the core of the piece, born out of a visit I once paid to Beverly Hills High School when I was teaching in LA, remains the same.  Glitter Girl is all those pretty blondes with fathers in the film and music industries.

The story is told from the viewpoint of someone else, though. The Witchman narrates, and one reader said he didn’t learn enough about the character from his “voice.” Another asked if the Witchman will ever get to  star in another story, so that readers could know more about him.

I’ve been thinking that it might be interesting to follow these characters out of this story into the bigger world of the Moon Road. The Glitter Girl herself has quite a journey ahead as she learns what the spell to turn the heart of some rich empty headed hunk will really cost her.  The Witchman called it right – it isn’t love she wants, it’s power.  Will she really rip the heart out of the hunk and walk away?   She’s a card carrying member of the Mean Girls club, so that’s probably what happens. But I would like to see her come to terms with the magic she has unwittingly taken into herself.

And the Witchman, that battered war veteran hunkering down in the desert where he can be alone with his memories and his magic, seems to me to have a world of stories to tell.  So in the parlance of TV shows, I’m making him a regular.  He now has a name:  Adam Voss.  He also has a backstory of service in the Gulf War, a wound and a meager pension – and witchcraft of the darkest kind.  His narrative crosses a little with that of his fellow wounded warrior in the short story  “Cold Wind.”

Adam will appear in the upcoming Soledad City novel, “A Patch of Cool” when musician on the run Lucas Horne takes a terrifying ride through the desert and a disastrous detour at the truck stop/cafe where Adam lives out back.

Adam also has a bit of history with Velocity, the owner of Cafe Colibri in downtown Soledad City – and a magic creature in her own right.  More on Velocity in upcoming character sketches.

Any thoughts, ideas, storylines you’d like to see?  Drop a comment here or share a thought on Twitter.

 

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