by: Barbara Casey
Genre: Romantic Suspense/Occult
Release Date: April 12, 2024
Publisher: Speaking Volumes, LLC
Thirty-five-year-old novelist, Shyla Wishon, fears that her life is spinning out of control since her recent marriage to Carl Cores. First, her overbearing new mother-in-law moves to Florida in order to be close to her son, followed by a steady stream of visiting relatives who become a constant intrusion on what was once her time to write. To make matters worse, Carl’s two grown daughters refuse to have anything to do with her, and even though Carl has a good job, bills are starting to pile up.
Shyla tries to cheerfully accept the responsibilities that come with a new marriage and the inevitable adjustments, but the stress is leaving her with constant migraines, a lack of energy, and, worst of all, a loss of creativity.
Shyla leaves her home in West Palm Beach to spend two weeks in Naples where she teaches creative writing each summer at the Ibis Institute of Writing. When she arrives, her friend, Jayne Sinclare, president of Ibis, invites Shyla to join her for lunch. Mariela Fanjul, whose family has just donated $100,000 to the Institute, and the Fanjul family attorney, Terry Sawyer, who is a big fan of Shyla’s published work, are also invited. Mariela Fanjul has signed up for Shyla’s course, and is writing a novel based on her family’s Cuban heritage and their Santerian beliefs.
As Shyla works with Mariela, she becomes entangled in the ancient Regla de Ocha involving soul transference and animal sacrifice. It is through these beliefs and a remarkable series of events that eventually allow Shyla to escape her present life and become a totally new person.
IT STARTED WITH THE BOTANICA
By: Barbara Casey
Several years ago, I had occasion to visit a botanica, a store that specializes in providing Santeria supplies. It is a place where people go to find solutions to their problems, or ways to improve their lives. Dog-track fans looking for lucky numbers, couples trying to resolve marital difficulties, a businessman looking for a promotion, a mother looking for a cure for her child’s illness—whatever the reason, they believe they can find the answer at the botanica. I went for the sole purpose of purchasing a small statue of St. Joseph, as I had been told by someone of the Santerian faith that this would ensure my success in selling a property that I had put on the market several months earlier.
Upon entering the shop that warm afternoon, my senses were immediately overwhelmed by the scents and confusion of colorful objects around me. Charms, herbs, potions, flowers, musical instruments, candles, perfumes and other materials used by the followers of Santeria crowded the small, close space. On one of the shelves, there were three types of cards used to predict the future.
Farther down the aisle from the cards were six different soaps used by Santeria believers to work magic. The one wrapped in red was the soap of love. The soap of money was green, and the yellow was the remover of evil conditions. Next to the soaps were perfumes, over three hundred different formulations, to be used in conjunction with the soaps. The names on the half-ounce bottles explained their uses: jinx remover, protection from the enemy, battle conqueror, prosperity.
Aerosol sprays and candles filled another shelf, and hanging from one wall were the protective bead necklaces called ilekes. Back in one corner, a black-speckled enamel pan contained what appeared to be entrails soaking in red liquid with a healthy growth of mold growing over the top. A dead plant stood vigilantly next to the pan, with one branch slightly immersed in the liquid.
As with the mind of a child, a blank slate on which new things are written, I found myself totally accepting and believing what was being presented, without preconceptions. My adult mind, meanwhile, securely conditioned in a different culture and experience and knowledge, left me feeling doubtful, somewhat amused—and, strangely enough, a little anxious.
Eventually, I found what I was searching for and paid the proprietor of the shop. “You are trying to sell a house,” he stated. His Spanish accent was pronounced. Then he smiled and nodded. “You must bury the statue upside-down and facing away,” he explained. I thanked him and left.
On the way home, I went by the property I had been unsuccessfully trying to sell, and buried St. Joseph as the shop owner had instructed. By eight o’clock the next morning, the house was sold.
Was it St. Joseph that made the sale of the house possible? Or was it my child’s mind just wanting to believe? I don’t know. I do know that my visit to the botanica on that summer day was the beginning of a journey, one that would eventually lead me to an understanding, an appreciation, and a respect for Santeria. It was also a journey which would lead me to writing this book.
As it was in the beginning, it had always been; and so it was now. Four people, three men and a woman, made their way single file on the stone path that marked its way through the dense foliage of flowering hibiscus and oleander, large crotons, and sweet-scented lantana. Some of plantings were large, some of them small; some of them grew in wild abandon, others in cultivated rows. The plants had been carefully selected, as had each stone, and brought together at this place in this form and pattern for the sole purpose of pleasing the orishas, those emissaries who ruled over every force of nature and every aspect of human life.
At the end of the path the four people came to a clearing surrounded by cypress trees, tall and aged. This is where the altar stood. It was that time of day when things appeared diminished in definition and somewhat muted. Colors were no longer distinct, having faded into indistinguishable earth tones. Birds ceased their song, other creatures simply paused as though listening and waiting for the unfolding events of night; and like the disappearing sun far off in the horizon, everything was suddenly less visible. It was dusk.
Miguel, because he was the oldest of the three men, spread the white cloth on the flat stone in front of the altar. Juan lit four white candles, one candle for each of them. Jesus reverently arranged the special fruits and vegetables for the ceremony, pausing in silence between placements. Each offering had been specifically chosen for a particular god. The old woman, dressed in black with an assortment of colored beads around her neck, remained in the background, swaying slightly, her head upturned, uttering words in prayer. Maria Santiago Fanjul was the high priestess of Regla de Ocha, that most ancient of African religions from which began Santeria. Known simply as “The Guardian” to those who believed, she and she alone held the sum total of the knowledge, given to her by her mother, just as her mother had received it from her mother before her. That was the way it had always been. It was the only way.
These four had come once again to petition the orishas. Unless they received an answer to their petition, there would be no more ceremonies, no more oral traditions to pass down, no more Regla de Ocha. Maria was old; soon she would pass. According to the traditions of Regla de Ocha it was time for her to give her knowledge and wisdom—the inheritance—to another female related to her by blood. It was through this oral transference, the passing of knowledge from woman to woman, that Regla de Ocha was kept alive, as it had always been since the beginning of time.
At the end of the path the four people came to a clearing surrounded by cypress trees, tall and aged. This is where the altar stood. It was that time of day when things appeared diminished in definition and somewhat muted. Colors were no longer distinct, having faded into indistinguishable earth tones. Birds ceased their song, other creatures simply paused as though listening and waiting for the unfolding events of night; and like the disappearing sun far off in the horizon, everything was suddenly less visible. It was dusk.
Miguel, because he was the oldest of the three men, spread the white cloth on the flat stone in front of the altar. Juan lit four white candles, one candle for each of them. Jesus reverently arranged the special fruits and vegetables for the ceremony, pausing in silence between placements. Each offering had been specifically chosen for a particular god. The old woman, dressed in black with an assortment of colored beads around her neck, remained in the background, swaying slightly, her head upturned, uttering words in prayer. Maria Santiago Fanjul was the high priestess of Regla de Ocha, that most ancient of African religions from which began Santeria. Known simply as “The Guardian” to those who believed, she and she alone held the sum total of the knowledge, given to her by her mother, just as her mother had received it from her mother before her. That was the way it had always been. It was the only way.
These four had come once again to petition the orishas. Unless they received an answer to their petition, there would be no more ceremonies, no more oral traditions to pass down, no more Regla de Ocha. Maria was old; soon she would pass. According to the traditions of Regla de Ocha it was time for her to give her knowledge and wisdom—the inheritance—to another female related to her by blood. It was through this oral transference, the passing of knowledge from woman to woman, that Regla de Ocha was kept alive, as it had always been since the beginning of time.
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Ms. Casey has written close to two dozen award-winning books of fiction and nonfiction for both young adults and adults. The awards include the National Association of University Women Literary Award, the Sir Walter Raleigh Literary Award, the Independent Publisher Book Award, the Dana Award for Outstanding Novel, the IPPY Best Book for Regional Fiction, the Book Excellence Award, among others. Several of her books have been optioned for major films.
Her award-winning articles, short stories, and poetry for adults have appeared in both national and international publications including the North Carolina Christian Advocate Magazine, The New East Magazine, the Raleigh (N.C.) News and Observer, the Rocky Mount (N.C.) Sunday Telegram, Dog Fancy, ByLine, The Christian Record, Skirt! Magazine, and True Story. A thirty-minute television special which Ms. Casey wrote and coordinated was broadcast on WRAL, Channel 5, in Raleigh, North Carolina. She also received special recognition for her editorial work on the English translations of Albanian children’s stories. Her award-winning fscience fiction short stories for adults are featured in The Cosmic Unicorn and CrossTime science fiction anthologies. Ms. Casey's essays and other works appear in The Chrysalis Reader, the international literary journal of the Swedenborg Foundation, 221 One-Minute Monologues from Literature (Smith and Kraus Publishers), and A Cup of Comfort (Adams Media Corporation).
Ms. Casey is a former director of BookFest of the Palm Beaches, Florida, where she served as guest author and panelist. She has served as judge for the Pathfinder Literary Awards in Palm Beach and Martin Counties, Florida, and was the Florida Regional Advisor for the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators from 1991 through 2003. In 2018 Ms. Casey received the prestigious Albert Nelson Marquis Lifetime Achievement Award and Top Professional Award for her extensive experience and notable accomplishments in the field of publishing and other areas. She makes her home on the top of a mountain in northwest Georgia with three cats who adopted her: Homer, Reese, and Earl Gray - Reese’s best friend.
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Thank you so much for hosting me today and your interest in SHYLA'S INITIATIVE. I wish you and your visitors all my best. ~Barbara
ReplyDeleteYou're welcome. Thank you for stopping by.
DeleteThank you so much for featuring SHYLA'S INITIATIVE today.
ReplyDeleteYou're welcome.
DeleteSounds like a great read.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Rita. I hope you get a chance to read it.
DeleteWhat was your favorite part of this book while writing?
ReplyDeleteThis is going to sound ugly, but there is a part when the soul of the young woman Shyla is teaching transfers into Shyla. Shyla is still Shyla, with all of the good things that make her who she is, but now she is also willing to stand up for herself and no longer be taken advantage of her new husband or his family. While she is still in the hospital, she lets him know under no uncertain terms what he is going to do--and that is to get out of her house and take his family with him. As I was writing this, I was really cheering Shyla on. Thank you for your question.
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