Our Bloodline Has Returned ... Queen your essence, the frequency of your electrical powers, charges me up when it’s the perfect moment to intercourse thecanal to your inner core—to the path that leads to your very soul. Heavenly stars begin to fall, even the moon turns blood red ...

 

Poet and artist Quinton Veal has returned and he's bringing the fire! Cosmic Storm is a delicious medley of erotica, Afrofuturism and romance, guaranteed to satisfy the reader's mind, body and soul. Get swept up in Quinton's Cosmic Storm.

Part I: The Raven

 

Breath brings word 

Nappy Dusky Longing

Song

Song like my own

—Maya’s Kwansaba

Prologue

 

A solitary cafe au lait-colored man with freckles, his thick hair tied back with cords, walked to the lot behind the Constabulary Station. Keeping his head down, Richard Starks moved silently through the rows of steam-autos parked there. He walked past them, looking carefully at the numbers painted on the auto doors. When he found the one he sought, he crouched on the other side of the steam-auto and waited. He didn’t have to wait long. Minutes later, a burly white Constable exited the station and walked through the lot. He hunkered down before the auto and started turning the crank.

Richard drew a dagger from the folds of his shirt.

Moving swiftly, he crept from the side of the car. As the Constable rose from his haunches, the black man sprang—stabbing him over and over. The Constable fell to his knees and then toppled over, twitching and bleeding at Richard’s

feet. Moments later, he was dead.

 

Shaking and crying, Richard stood over him. At length, he calmed himself and slipped the dagger back

inside his shirt. He wiped his face with his arm, and stepped over the dead Constable to the side of the auto.

 

He drew a symbol on the steam-auto door with his bloody fingers and spoke the mantra, “Kuja kwangu mpendwa wangu kwa maana ni kisasi mimi kutafuta ... Come to me my beloved, for it is vengeance I seek.”

Diaphanous shades smudged into view. In the next instant three figures towered over him, their faces shifting in the darkness ... from black to red ... green to blue ... female to male ... It made him dizzy trying to hone in on their features. He realized that perhaps he was not meant to see their faces. Perhaps it would drive him insane. He fixed his vision on a point beyond their huge shoulders.

 

The one on his left spoke, “You summoned us, little one?”

 

“Yes,” Richard whispered.

 

“You know what it is you seek?” said the second one asked.

 

“We cannot harm the innocent,” the third entity intoned.

 

For the first time anger crept into the young man’s

voice. “They ain’t innocent. They’re murderers.”

The spirits spoke in one basso profundo voice, “So

be it.”

Rivulets of blood ran down the Constabulary building. The dead officer sat up. His wounds healed, and his eyes glazed over with a white film. Then they turned blue once more ...

Mona Livelong: Paranormal Detective III

The Case of the Vanishing Child, Coming Nov 2020!

© Valjeanne Jeffers and Quinton Veal

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