A few months ago, RJ Mirabal stopped by for a visit. He’s back again with some new items and some special deals. Please make him feel welcome.
Bio: RJ Mirabal loves the Middle Rio Grande Valley having lived there for most of his life. Los Lunas High School 2006 Teacher of the Year, author RJ Mirabal, went on to win the Excellence in Education Award for NEA-New Mexico in 2007, having taught English, speech, drama and computer literacy. Now happily retired, he purses writing and music while volunteering with a motorcycle club and teachers’ organizations. RJ enjoys exploring New Mexico’s wilderness areas on his four-wheeler and traveling with his wife, Cheryl. The Tower of Il Serrohe is his debut novel.
The Tower of Il Serrohe and Extreme Dust Storms May Exist (Books 1 & 2 of the Rio Grande Parallax Series)
Author: RJ Mirabal
- Don Vargas, a man who has lost his way.
- A rundown casita near the Middle Rio Grande Valley in New Mexico.
- Nightwing, a bat offering an unlikely hero a formidable quest.
- A Portal to another valley, the Valle Abajo, where lifestyles are primitive.
- Clans in the Valle Abajo begging for help to overcome the Soreyes, a wily clan terrorizing the valley for generations.
- A Tower erected by the Soreyes which seems to be a mysterious source of their power.
All this leads to a unique modern fantasy involving curanderas, an alcoholic looking for escape from the failures of his life, an enigmatic bat who manipulates events behind the scenes, adventures, a beautiful woman, and more surprises in this contemporary New Mexico-based tale.
Though the book ends, the story doesn’t. Book 2 of the Rio Grande Parallax: Extreme Dust Storms May Exist is now available. Many familiar characters from The Tower return along with new exciting personalities to spice up the adventure:
Extreme Dust Storms May Exist (release date coming up in mid-July 2015):
It is five years after the final events of The Tower of Il Serrohe and Esther, a sixteen-year-old honor student and athlete, suffers a mysterious accident and dreams of a valley much like her Rio Luna home, yet ominously different. Next, a bat repeatedly slams its body against her window during a powerful wind storm and she hears a whispering in the darkness.
It is the bat, Nightwing, who persuaded Don to take on his mission in The Tower. Nightwing begins to persuade Esther, Don’s younger cousin, to use her intelligence and resourcefulness to drive away the Soreyes from the Valle Abajo—the valley of her dreams. As she shares these disturbing details with her best friend, Markey, they both worry Esther is going insane.
However, new dangers threaten when word reaches the Valle about a murderous clan in the far away Mountains of Sky east of the Valle while in the west there lives another band of Soreyes. Meanwhile, a mysterious presence lurks in the background as the saga of the Rio Grande Parallax continues.
Both the epub and mobi version of The Tower of Il Serrohe, are available on Black Rose Writing’s web site for FREE as of now: Black Rose Writing
Chapter one from Extreme Dust Storms May Exist, Book II of The Rio Grande Parallax Series:
(Monday, May 7, Rio Grande Valley)
Esther scanned the western horizon of Luna Mesa trying to catch sight of her father’s missing cattle when a turbulent cloud of heat and fine dust washed over her from behind. Turning to look for the source, she was struck full body—as if by a huge fist—and collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
Not the best way to get ready for softball practice.
Esther hadn’t wanted to be on the mesa in the first place. Throwing on her practice uniform, she had grabbed her duffel bag and rushed out the door when her father, John, called out to her.
“Esther, where the hell are you going?” he asked, wiping his hands as he entered from a back room. “You have to take hay up to the cattle before you leave.”
“I’ll be late, Dad. Got a big practice for the district playoffs on Friday. Besides,” she said, “it’s Joshua’s turn. Coach will kill me if I’m not there in twenty minutes!”
“It’s not my fault you put off getting ready for practice until you barely have time to get there. Joshua had to stay after school, so—”
“Right. Little turd’s probably doing detention again for being late five times—”
“The cows can’t wait while you work out your schedules or personal problems,” he added, tossing the towel on the table.
“I’ve worked all afternoon on the front ten acres,” John continued, “and it’s time for me to pick up a load to take to Amarillo. You have to do it. Joshua can do the next four days in a row so you’ll have time to get ready for the big game.
“Satisfied?” he asked, flashing his bashful little boy grin despite his forty-five years.
Resisting an urge to smile back, Esther turned on her heel and dashed out the door, throwing her duffle on the bales of hay in the back of the old Ford pickup. Once it groaned to a start she floored it, leaving her father laughing in a fury of dirt and wounded teenage pride.
The old F-150 bounced and rattled its way up the rocky road to the mesa where they had a small herd of Angus cattle on a hundred acres of range land. Fortunately, it was only a mile and a half north of the high school baseball field. Esther could run across the field, jump the fence, and still be on time, provided she wasn’t delayed while unloading the hay.
But when she topped the mesa, her hope faded. The cattle should have been there waiting for their daily feeding, but the water trough sat forlorn on the empty plain. The little herd always passed the time filling up on cool water from the old earth-mover tire embedded in a pad of cement.
“Dammit,” she muttered, as if her parents were sitting beside her. She left the truck to walk around, searching the horizon for her favorite cows and their spring calves. They were nowhere to be seen.
It was odd the cattle weren’t there, but Esther began to think they might have good reason to avoid the place. She could feel a strange sensation in the air, as if static were building up before a lightning strike. But the deep blue sky was clear of all but a few puffy clouds to the south.
She had just started scanning the western horizon toward the busy Interstate traffic a half mile away when a ferocious dust devil crept up behind, striking her down.
It seemed like hours, but Esther began to come around in under ten minutes. She lay on her side, her upper body aching fiercely. Spitting dirt, she sat up and almost blacked out again.
What the hell was that? She wondered, only vaguely recalling what had happened.
Looking around for “Piss-Ant,” the young bull who feigned attacks whenever Esther or her mother looked him in the eye, she again saw she was alone on the mesa. So she couldn’t blame that little devil for a sneak attack.
Great, now I’ll have to take a shower before practice!
Esther could barely move her throbbing head, neck, and back as she dropped the beat-up tailgate and winced when its rusty hinges shrieked in protest. Grabbing the bale hook, Esther began pulling the bales off the bed onto the ground. She cut the baling wire and kicked the tightly packed hay loose so the cows could get big mouthfuls when they got around to coming for dinner.
The back of her head felt like it was splitting open as she dragged herself back into the truck, started it up, and swung around to head back down to the house.
Somehow, no matter how important, she didn’t feel like going to practice today.