A Snippet from Black Yéʼii (The Evil One)

As with any book I’ve written, and certainly any book written by any author, character and character development are first and foremost in importance. A book will be unreadable if the characters aren’t fleshed out. The reader wants to identify with one or more, hear them talking, see them act and react, and see how the other characters interrelate to and with them. In many cases, the reader needs to be able to identify with them. They need to root for the protagonist and jeer the antagonist. It’s a given, and if the characters are well-constructed and developed, you’ve lost the reader.

No matter what situation or circumstance the author gives his or her characters, and no matter what the writer does to his characters or what situations he/she puts them in, the action and dialog has to feel real to the reader. Even in fantasy or dystopian novels, the characters have to speak, act and react realistically.

A second element in writing, certainly in my writing and in my genre of thriller-crime-mystery, is atmosphere. It is different from world-building in fantasy or science fiction, and different from setting. Setting is the place and time of the action. Atmosphere is the “feeling” the reader gets either through dialog, action, or setting.

In the snippet I’m presenting to you from my soon to be available book, Black Yéʼii (The Evil One), a seventeen-year-old boy receives an ominous text message, presumably from his mother. The boy knows better, because his mother is a limited English speaker, and she doesn’t ever text. The boy knows something is wrong, but deep in his heart, he has hope. It’s just the two of them now, because his older brother and the mother’s eldest son died about two years previous (in my book, Caught in a Web).

The boy fears for his mother and what might have happened to her. Secondary in his mind is what fate awaits him in his darkened home.

Chapter Two

Waukesha, Wisconsin

Angel cut his lights and then parked on a side street a block away from his home. He would not make the mistake of pulling into the driveway, or even parking in front of the house. He’d rather try to get to his house, and in it, undetected.

Angel wanted to believe he was over-reacting. He had thought about possibilities on the drive to his neighborhood.

Maybe the text was from his mom. Maybe she was sick, or maybe she fell and hurt herself. But as soon as he thought about it, he shook his head. He dismissed each possibility because he knew the truth. Yet, he hoped.

Angel reread the message.

            I need you to come home right away. It’s urgent.

He knew his mother did not write that text, because she never texted him. Never. Those weren’t her words, because when she spoke or wrote anything, she mixed Spanish with English. That was just her way, and both she and he would laugh about it. And her fingers hurt too much from arthritis, so she found it easier to call him. Even at that, she never called unless she needed him to pick up something from the store.

No, his mother did not send the text. Someone else did.

He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since that night. How could he? Watching his brother die. Watching the piece of shit Ricardo Fuentes die- the only good thing that happened that night, along with watching the others die with him.

Then the promise was made, the bargain that was supposed to keep them all safe. Angel, his mother, George, and his brother, Bobby. But no one was safe. Not really. All it took was someone talking to the wrong person. It didn’t have to be much. Just a hint of what had taken place. Even though the cops, especially O’Connor, had reassured him, he still looked over his shoulder, and his eyes fearful, watched everyone around him.

Angel sighed and shook his head. The promise was too good to be true. His life and the life of his mother would forever be in jeopardy, and maybe now it was time to pay up.

He suspected whoever sent it had done something to his mother, because she would never have willingly allowed someone, other than a family member, to use her phone. He hoped she was okay, but deep down, he knew she wasn’t. She was probably dead or dying. Angel only hoped it was not painful.

Angel also knew if he went home, as soon as he walked in the door, something would happen to him, too. At the end of whatever was expected of him, at the end of whatever it was they wanted from him, he would die. He knew this, and still here he was, planning his next step. Checking on his mother, all the while knowing she was probably dead.

He pulled out his wallet. Tucked behind a pocket, behind a couple of ones, and a five and a ten, was a well-worn card from at least a year ago, maybe more. He got it from the long-haired detective, O’Connor. The cop texted or called him every so often, at least once a month, just to check in and make sure things were okay with him and his mom.

Angel held the card between his thumb and forefinger and nipped it two or three times with his other hand. He considered calling the cop to let him know something wasn’t right.

He leaned his head against the window and shut his eyes as he considered his options. His cell was on his thigh and the card was in his hand.

A thought occurred to him. If they were onto him, would they be onto George and his brother?

 Angel sat up straight. He licked his lips and reconsidered his options.

Maybe send a text to George and to O’Connor. That way, both would know, especially if something would happen to him this night. His contacts with George were sporadic. Even though the two boys were going into their junior year at North High School, Angel didn’t interact with him much. Different circles, different friends.

Angel didn’t want to alarm either the cop or George needlessly. After all, he could be wrong. Maybe, maybe not. More than likely not. But again, he was hopeful.

He composed a text for both of them, but would not send it right away. He’d wait.

What to say?

Angel thought about it and decided on: Someone must have said something. They know. You know who.

Short and somewhat ambiguous. Yet, both the cop and George would understand the meaning because of who it came from.

He checked his cell and saw it was on 5G and had four bars. Good enough.

He placed O’Connor’s card on the dashboard, though he didn’t know why he did that. He carried his cell in his left hand. That allowed him the use of his good hand.

No matter how much he thought he was ready, he wasn’t.

Angel took a deep breath and stepped out of his car, and as quietly as he could, shut the door. He hit the key fob, and it locked it with a barely audible chirp.

He looked both ways and, as unobtrusively as possible with his head down, quick-walked to the alley that would take him to his backyard. Staying in the shadows, it didn’t take long before he reached the back of his house.

Two different dogs in two different yards sounded an alarm. A yippie, high-pitched dustmop, and a deep-throated bark of a larger dog. He had hoped both would be indoors by now, but that was not the case.

Angel crouched down and surveyed his yard. It was small and dark. The backdoor light was off, which was another sign that something wasn’t right. The window above the sink was dark because the light wasn’t on. His mom would turn it on at dusk and keep it on all night, only turning it off at sun up.

If someone waited for him in the dark corners of the yard, he couldn’t tell. There was no movement on either side of the yard, and no movement on either side of the house. All was quiet. Too quiet, he thought.

Angel looked down at his phone and hit the send button for the text. He didn’t want to take any chances. Perhaps someone would arrive in time to save both his mom and him. If his mom was alive.

Unfortunately, the face of the cell lit up, shining briefly on his face. He shielded it by pressing it to his chest, waited for several minutes, and then, as quietly as he could, opened the back gate and stepped into his yard.

Holding his breath, eyes darting left and right, he crouched down and crept to the backdoor. He tested the knob and found it unlocked.

Now or never.

Angel hesitated. He could turn back and wait for O’Connor to show up or call 9-1-1 and wait for cops to show. But before he could do either, two rough hands grabbed him from behind and slammed his head against the wall of the house, once, then twice. He dropped his phone and didn’t know where it landed.

—

What did you feel when you read the portion of Chapter Two of Black Yéʼii (The Evil One)? Afraid for the boy? Did you feel sorry for the boy and did you plead silently for him to change his decision? On a visceral level, did you hear the two dogs barking, maybe a cricket or two chirping? Were you enveloped in the dark, late at night scene in the snippet?

Those questions allude to atmosphere, as well as setting. Atmosphere is the feeling you get, while setting is the place and time the action is located. Both are central to writing, as much as character and character development are.

I hope you enjoyed the snippet from Black Yéʼii (The Evil One), and I hope you check it out when it becomes available for preorder. I will also have author copies for sale and signing, and I’ll keep you posted.

Below is the synopsis of the book, along with the explanation of the title. And just for fun, I also give you the three quotes I use at the front of the book to set the story up in the reader’s mind.

Black Yéʼii

(The Evil One)

“I and the public know
What all schoolchildren learn,
Those to whom evil is done
Do evil in return.”

W. H. Auden, Collected Poems

“When your dream turns into a nightmare, rise to the challenge and slaughter the dragons.”

Bangambiki Habyarimana

“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.”

Kahlil Gibran

Yéʼii are spiritual deities of the Dine’, or Navajo people. There is one they seldom, if ever, speak of: Black Yéʼii. They consider Black Yéʼii, to be The Evil One. The Dine’ believe that by just speaking the name, they are inviting it into their lives. Black Yéʼii uses the five senses to trick an individual into seeking pleasure in areas of life, but, by doing so, they bring harm to themselves or others. Black Yéʼii interferes with living in the light of inner life and harmony, or Hozho, and Black Yéʼii violates Hozho by creating darkness and evil among people.

The Synopsis of Black Yéʼii (The Evil One):

The secret of how four members of MS-13 died was supposed to keep them safe. That is, if no one spoke of it. But someone did, and now people are dying.

The police fabricated a story about the night four members of MS-13 died in a tiny home on a quiet city street almost two years previous. George Tokay and his friends were not supposed to share the secret about what really happened that night. No one was to know the truth. But someone talked, and now MS-13, ruthless and wanting revenge, is back in town, and people are dying.

Can Detectives Graff, O’Connor, and Eiselmann find the killers and put a stop to the killing before anyone else dies?

I would love to know what your thoughts, so please use the comment section below. Of course, you can find all my books and my two blogs on my website at https://www.jrlewisauthor.com I hope you check it out. As always, thank you for following along on my writing. So until next time …