A. L. Kaplan

Tag: sacrifice

  • Mark of the Goddess Has A New Cover

    It’s amazing how a few little changes can make a cover stand out. I love the way the jaguar’s eyes stand out. All I did was shift a few images, add more green to the top, and put the goddess mark on the M.

    What do you think of the new cover for Mark of the Goddess?

    (Side note: AI was NOT used to create this book cover. The photographers who took the base pictures gave permission for their use and are acknowledged in the book. The cover was created by using GIMP software, a graphics editing program.)

    MARK OF THE GODDESS

    Sometimes a blessing can be a curse.

    Young Maya bears the mark of the moon goddess, a sign that would doom her to be sacrificed in her village where the death god is revered. Forced to dye her golden eyes dark, Maya lives in constant fear of discovery. To save her family and the village’s future, she must find the courage to stand up to the high priest before he can bring the death god into this world.

  • AIN’T GOOD

    crow composit

    “Look at all them owls in that tree,” said Lowell. His jowls wobbled as he wiped sweat from his face with an already soaked and disgusting orange sleeve.

    Harvey wrinkled his nose. The putrid scent blowing down the hill wasn’t much worse than Lowell’s odor. If he didn’t still need the despicable little man, Harvey would have strangled him on sight.

    “They’re vultures,” said Harvey. “Owls ain’t up in daytime and don’t flock like that.”

    “Well they stink. I don’t wanna go this way.”

    “It’s this or rot in prison.”

    Lowell continued to whine. “You said you had a way out, a secret way.”

    “I do,” said Harvey, as he trudged to the top of the ridge and gazed at the vultures.

    Lowell joined him a moment later, gasping from the exertion, eyes closed. It was a full two minutes before Lowell opened his eyes and saw the partially decomposed bodies strewn under the tree. Their telltale orange jumpsuits marked them as prisoners. His meaty hands grasped Harvey’s arm.

    “Those are guys who supposedly escaped.” Lowell’s voice rose in pitch. “They’re dead! We’re gonna die!”

    “No, Lowell,” said Harvey. “WE ain’t gonna die.”

    Dozens of beady black eyes watched as Harvey cut Lowell’s throat and pushed him against the tree. Blood coated the bark, which began to glow.

    “Hurting little girls ain’t good, Lowell. Judge went too easy for what you did to my sister.”

    Harvey watch Lowell’s eyes widen as the birds descended then stepped through the portal.

  • Wish Pond

    Magic is finicky. I’d seen it work before, but not too reliably and there were many charlatans around. But I trusted Damien, loved him. Still, this was one of his wackier ideas, crazier than their hasty marriage three weeks ago.

    “You want to jump into that scuzzy water, be my guest. There’s no way I am.”

    A frown creased his brow. “We’ve been over this. If you don’t jump in after tossing the coin the magic won’t work. I can’t swim.”

    He massaged his head, revealing dark green marks on his arm.

    “What’s that green smudge?”

    Damien snapped his sleeve down, covering the splotches. He seemed unusually irritated. “Nothing, just some paint.”

    I shrugged. He was the magic expert. With a flick I tossed the copper coin in the air. It arced high, then dove strait for the wish pond. Instead of a splash, I heard thump.

    Curious, I leaned over to look, but a flicker of movement made me turn. Arms extended, Damien charged, the green ‘paint’ on his arms clearly textured like alligator skin. Yellow reptilian eyes shone with soulless intensity.

    My heart shattered with understanding. Damien was a Gator Shaman, bound to the creatures by blood… and I was his next sacrifice. No wonder he knew so much magic. But he didn’t count on my reflexes. Damien tumbled into the water. He cried once before the alligator bit.

    I guess he really couldn’t swim. At least I’d inherit his gold.  Some wishes do come true.

  • Gold Fever

    Lance yanked another gold bracelet off a skeleton and slipped it onto his arm, then slapped Miquel on the back. “Those superstitious fools who turned back are going to kick themselves when we return to town.”

    Miquel placed a crown on his head and smiled. “Max and Renato died in an accident, not because of some Mayan curse. Nacon, god of war, be damned. Now we’re the lords of Quixtelopotec.”

    Hours later, Miquel hauled the last bag of treasure up from the sacrificial pit and held his hand out to Lance, a knife concealed behind his back. It wasn’t much of a struggle.

    “Blasphemer! You will die for your sacrilege!”

    Miquel spun around, his face frozen in shock as a stone masked figure stepped into view. He backed away, slipping on Lance’s blood. Renato pulled the mask from his face as Miquel fell into the pit. Now the treasure was all his. Killing Max and frightening the others was easy. He whistled at he loaded the loot onto the pack mules.

    “Blasphemer!” the voice reverberated off the stone ruins, shaking dirt and debris loose around Renato. He looked around. Did the others sneak back? He paled as a figure marched out of the rock wall shaking a stone mallet over his head. “You, who dare to steal from Nacon, shall pay with your blood.”

    His former companions, eyes black and hollow grabbed him with ethereal hands. He could only scream as he fell into the darkness.