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Angel Through the Storms von Binnings, Clement (eBook)

  • Erscheinungsdatum: 15.07.2015
  • Verlag: BookBaby
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Angel Through the Storms

Riveting, multi-layered - Angel Through The Storms delves into the loveless realities of child abuse and molestation; it illustrates the mass abandonment experienced by refugees suffering and dying on the sweltering streets of New Orleans in the wake of Hurricane Katrina; it depicts the psychological and spiritual travesties that result; it offers up hope and healing through a love too rare for any ordinary human to share; it births angels through the storms. SYNOPSIS 'Gotcha this time, lil' girl! Ain't no gettin' away!' Fisherman Sinker Parrish finishes off the seventeen year rape of his innocent daughter, Lola. Lola is a pure being, an intuitive, a crystal child some might say. Introverted, she suffers from PTSD and when threatened, psychological dissociation. Dissociation is her way of escape from the storms of her life. Diving deep into the internal realm of her soul, she is soothed by angels. When she flees the desolate marshlands of Louisiana to New Orleans, she learns that she is pregnant with her father's child. Despite the horrific manner of its conception, the growing presence within her body makes her glow with uncommon radiance. Lola's landlords, their priest, her obstetrician and a psychic are drawn to her mystical quality. Dr. Luc Fontainebleau delivers her angel in the flesh, Grover, a 'keeper of the flame,' to the world. When Lola falls in love with Luc, her father re-enters her psyche and her life. She goes missing, dramatically separated from her lover, and their budding romance drowns under tumultuous waves that culminate in Hurricane Katrina. Those who endure, with the aid of Grover's mysterious influence, witness a greater truth about their 'angel in the storm.'


    Format: ePUB
    Kopierschutz: none
    Seitenzahl: 384
    Erscheinungsdatum: 15.07.2015
    Sprache: Englisch
    ISBN: 9781483555829
    Verlag: BookBaby
    Größe: 431kBytes
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Angel Through the Storms

1 Evacuations: The Early Storms N uclear, seething, blazing with purpose, the sun flattens, melting into the silhouette of cypress along Toledo Bend's Texas shore. Its yellow-orange reflection glistens off the surface ripples, pointing like a compass needle toward the eyes that perceive it, the eyes of Claude Parrish looking back. "Hey Claude, come on." He turns his head forward and trudges up the slope. Halfway to the road he looks back one more time. The sun is gone, its afterglow darkening from tangerine to silver-gray like a part of him is being extinguished. He stumbles onward with his four cackling high school buddies toting rods, tackle, strings of bass and an ice chest full of beer toward the cabin. Their nonsense disturbs the serenity of the forest air, frightening birds out of the trees and squirrels into them. Jerry, a 285-pound galoot, playfully jabs Claude in the ass with the tip of his fishing rod, unwittingly snagging his pants and thigh with a treble hook. "What the fuck you doin', asshole?" rips Claude. The hook yanks at his flesh. His eyes blacken, his forearm muscles harden, his grip clenches the handle of the tackle box, and like a discus thrower he slings it at Jerry's head. Jerry ducks and the box smacks a tree-hooks, leaders, lures and an assortment of tools scatter into the oak leaves. "Hey man-I was just messin' wit ya!" Jerry's arms are up, surrendering. The hook's barb, tugged by tension on the line, stabs and tears at his tissue, and Claude trips over the rod it's tied to. He falls flat onto his face, sliding downward on the leaves, his hand sweeping the ground where it collides with a plastic bag filled with lead sinkers. Palming the load, he suddenly jumps back up and smashes it into the center of the big boy's forehead. Like Goliath, Jerry falls hard onto the tree roots where he lies motionless with his eyes rolled back. Wild-eyed, the others guffaw loudly, bending over, gawking. Rusty blurts out, "Shit man-is he breathin'?" He squats and inspects. "His chest is movin'." He peers up at Claude who stands tall, looking down at them with a pitiless scowl, his hand still clutching the bag of lead. Rusty points to it, laughing. "Sinker! Yeah, that's what we're gonna call you-Sinker!" Lester says, "Shit man, he'll sleep it off. Let's eat. I'm starvin'." They stagger to the cabin, leaving Jerry in his coma while they drink beer and play bourré throughout the night. Jerry awakens in the hospital three weeks later, never to be the same. But Claude's new nickname sticks. Those who revere and fear the beast in him call him "Sinker," a name he embraces as a title of respect. Those who hate him call him "Sinker," hoping to see him flushed down with the rest of humanity's wastes. Fifteen years later Lola halfway sleeps in her bed, a ray of her consciousness ever vigilant to the sounds of the night. During her eleven years of life, she has been conditioned by fear and want for love. It's 2 a.m. Her mother, Cecelia, has fallen asleep on the living room couch while waiting for Sinker to come home. On payday, she never knows when or if he will, but if he does, she knows she must be awake and ready to serve his desire, whatever it may be and respond immediately or have hell to pay. But tonight she is exhausted and her sleep is sound. The slam of the truck door reverberates through Lola's awareness. She opens her eyes and glares into the dark. There is no nightlight. She has learned that it makes her too visible. She listens. Sinker's stomp onto the porch is unmistakable. The latch retract

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