From the Sorcerer Gaumata's Journal--How I Committed My First Monstrous Crime--Warning: not for the weak

Ha!!! It was the one act that finally allowed me entrance into the ranks of the sorcerers. Dear readers, do you really think it is as easy as reading a book on black magic? No. Despite the fact that my "talent" was inborn, I needed one black act to burst out of the bubble of normal life and finally pass over into the realm where one truly has given up all troublesome signs of humanity. True--I had committed crimes before this, but cold blooded murder is different. Whenever I think of it, my body quickens. I could actually feel the darkness as it came over me. Delicious! The power that was unleashed made me burst with joy so much that I rubbed my hands together rapidly until in a flash of ecstasy, I clapped them. Sparks flew out around me and I began to dance. 

I was twenty years of age, a grown man, when I finally killed my mother. We still lived in the small, one-room hut with the dirty sheet separating us. My mother changed men often. It seemed that her career as a whore had given her a perverse taste for the worst of them. This time my mother had come home with a fat man who had begun to undress even before he had retreated to his side of the sheet. He regarded me with a lascivious stare. His eyes were nearly hidden in the porcine face, but I still could see them dully watching me as he stroked his lower belly, which was as close as he could get to the stubby penis that peeked out from the mounds of flesh.

The obese man’s thighs were rolls of fat that jiggled as his excited manhood peeped out. My mother began to protest that I was watching. The man didn’t respond. Instead, he fell upon her and began to rip off her clothes. Her protestations became weak and within minutes, the whore was responding to him with her own grunts. They were rutting swine. I was disgusted.
I waited for a few minutes until my disgust became unbearable and then I got up and looked at them for a minute. The fat man’s behind was spread obscenely as he completely covered my mother. She saw me for a moment, but the man’s meaty face covered both her nose and mouth with his thick lips as he began to suck on her face. I went out and breathed the air. It seemed to me that the smell of their obscene, goatish mating had left its scent on me forever. Taking the oil lamp I still held in my hand, I spilled the oil all around the thatch roofed wooden hut. I then barred the door from the outside and tossed the lighted lamp and whatever oil remained onto the hut. It caught in an instant.

I first heard the high-pitched and frantic screams of my mother and then the bellowing of the fat man. I wondered if it was finally hot enough for her. I wondered if her itch had finally been satisfied. The screaming continued and the man threw himself against the door until it finally collapsed and he emerged, his entire naked body burning as if the accumulated fat in that corpse could burn like that for a month. He ran away from the hut, only to fall with his arms outstretched and his blackened body twitching fiercely. My mother stayed in the inferno. Now I was finally a whole man.

Why I Loathe Sex--The Sorcerer Gaumata

It was not always a pleasant experience to possess another’s body. I found out the hard way. I assumed that I could control a body if I tried hard enough, but there were exceptions. Women! Indeed these are perverse creatures that I cannot understand. Perhaps it was my foolishness in trying my trick on my own mother. You see, my friend, even if you hate your mother, there is a tie to her that resists all attempts of a man. It was such with my mother. Oh, I hated her, but she proved wily. No, perhaps I give her too much credit. The truth is this—a man cannot control a creature of lesser intelligence. I know this to be true because I once tried to enter the body of a cat and was forced to taste a rat. Tail first that beast consumed it, taking its time to savor the stringy guts.
I felt an odd responsibility to protect my mother, despite her perversions, or maybe because of them. After all, she never stopped reminding me that I had been the cause of her misfortunes. I was a young man old enough to have a woman of my own, but no woman of my village would ever consider me, the son of the village whore. I had to put up with my mother’s customers, but after some time, she began to bring home a string of unsavory lovers.
I hated them, and I hated having to hear their brutish sex. My mother, the whore that she was, had found a new lover. This man was squinty-eyed, chinless, and short. His greasy hair smelled like rancid head lard. We lived in a one-room hut at the time and my mother had strung up a dirty old sheet to separate them and me from their nocturnal romps.
Mind you, as a child, I’d already been exposed to this perversion. As a child, I had been curious, but not overly so. Now, as a young man who was, nevertheless, innocent in that I had never engaged in the act, I was disgusted that night after night I heard their moans escalate until they cried out like wild animals being tortured. I decided that whatever they were doing was horrible, painful, and most unpleasant. Yet I wondered what drove them to repeat this thing night after night! These nightly passions made them scream so that I spent my nights in terror, certain that the evil man would finally finish off my mother and then kill me as well. I ordered the man to leave our home and never return. He laughed in my face and told me that it was not my home, but my mother’s home. He said that he would leave if she ordered him to do so. She stood by silently.
The cries became louder and fiercer until one night I had enough! I decided that I would use my mother’s body. I would enter her body and then beat the man senseless. This might then put an end to their nightly struggles. Yes, I would use my mother’s body to beat that man out of the house. If my mother was such a coward, I decided, I would pummel that greasy-headed man with all the ferocity and hatred I felt toward him.
That night, I waited anxiously until I heard their moans. Then I concentrated on my mother in the same way that I had learned to focus on any man I had possessed before. Unlike other occasions, however, I was frightened. Suddenly I knew that I had made a drastic mistake. My mother’s passion had made her mind more like that of an animal’s, and I wasn’t experienced enough to handle it. I tried to back out of her mind, but it held me like a vise. I realized that I wasn’t possessing her at all. I was trapped.
I felt the sweating, stinking bodies come together. My mother spread her legs wide as her lover began to poke frantically at the wetness between her legs. I was caught up in her filthy feelings. It was like I was attacked by an irresistible need, something like an itch that has to be scratched—yet the need was so great that it overpowered me. I tried desperately to pull away, but I had no control over that woman.
Her greasy-smelling lover began to pump against my mother seemingly with all his might, his sweaty abdomen squelching against her. The repulsive smack-suck sounds emanating from their frantic union made me feel intense nausea. They beat against each other in this way, the pain-itch of it causing them to utter animal grunts and groans until, reaching a fevered pitch, the man suddenly stiffened and went limp inside of her still pulsating hole.
The hideous appendage was now flaccid and slippery as he withdrew it, making a trail of slime on her thigh as it did so. The revolting, reeking substance became sticky at once. The hot hole between my mother’s legs pulsated and she writhed again, trying to scratch the awful itch somehow.
I felt seized in a terrible snare from which I could not escape, but suddenly I felt her grip on me recede and I opened my own eyes. I found myself in bed with my hands balled into such tight fists that there were bloody little half-moons against the pale white skin of my palms. Most terrifying to me was that my own genital was stiff and painful. I did not sleep again for many, many nights. It was this event, I believe, that caused me to conceive an incredible hatred for women. I hate them especially because of their hunger for sex. I have never again tried to possess one.

http://www.extasybooks.com/la-bruja-2/

How a Sorcerer Deals with Bullies

Life was never the same for me after I realized that I could possess people. My mother never beat me again as she was wont. From that experience I learned that I could enter a person’s body and feel the sensations of that body. I would sometimes even control the body in these early days, but only for a few moments, and only if the person was weak in the mind. I remember the first time I discovered this.  I have not always been as assertive as I am today. In fact, I was the village punching bag. Do you know how it was for me? A few of you might. A bully in my village loved to box my ears whenever I passed by him. He was usually accompanied by a gang of other ruffians, eager to please him, their leader. This time he was alone. When he saw me I cowered down on my haunches at the base of a tree and tried to cover my head with my skinny arms in preparation for his blows.
He lifted me by an arm, for he was quite a large fellow, and was about to deliver a punch when I felt the power. I willed myself to slip into his body and stood there over my slumped and still form. I considered what to do. I could feel a pain in the boy’s right toe. It had to be an infected toenail, I thought. It gave me an idea. I gritted my teeth, or his teeth to be accurate, and began to beat that body. I used his own fists to strike his mouth and nose, although the pain was unbearable and I had to scream. Finally I slammed the boy’s head into a tree and willed myself back from that pain- seared body to my own sound body. I stood on shaky limbs, but my body felt no pain. I looked at the heap in front of me. Teeth lay scattered about and the face of that boy was ruined. I skipped away, pleased with what I had done. After this the village ruffians kept their distance from me.

http://www.extasybooks.com/sorcerer-gaumata-king-of-kings/

Sorcerer Gaumata--How I Discovered my Powers

Ahh…I believe that being born into a position of power and influence corrupts a man. It is the rise—like that of a phoenix from the ashes of a burned and scarred soul that truly makes for a great man.
Let me stray not, however. I was going to tell you how my powers came to be. One day my mother was cleaning the house of a rich man. I waited in a corner, trying to make myself small and invisible. But it wasn’t so. An obese male child, whose face was as flat as a pan from eating so much food, came and sat close to me. I saw that even his head had become fatty and folds formed under his chin and at the base of his head. His tiny, mean eyes were set into the fatty cheeks and brow in such a way that he looked like a hog fattened for the slaughter. In fact, in his stubby fingered hand he held a large hunk of pig meat, which he gripped by its bone handle. It dripped fat and emitted a wonderful fragrance.
Me, I hadn’t eaten for a day, and I watched as his peg-like teeth tore into the crispy, golden skin. The meat smelled wonderfully of garlic and pork! I had never tasted such a thing, but the fragrance made me think it was delicious beyond my dreams! Although the sight of the mean-spirited boy was repulsive, I closed my eyes not to block him out, but to try and savor the meat he held. I took a deep breath, inhaling the fragrance until I could indeed taste the rich meat with my own mouth.
I opened my eyes suddenly as the taste filled my senses. I could see myself—my body, slumped before me. I realized that I was in the body of the corpulent boy! I felt that I’d been stuffed into an overflowing bag. His body was so sickening. I paused but for a moment and then I tore into the meat with that boy’s repulsive small mouth. I was enjoying the food through another’s body! I ate and ate until the entire thing was gone, then like a dog, I began to gnaw on the bone until a great piece of cartilage tore off and I attempted to swallow it.
That thing lodged in his throat and I began to struggle for breath. I stood and tried to scream, but vomit rose and clogged my breathing even more. I, in that boy’s body, fell to the ground in terrible spasms and then suddenly it was over. I dreamily opened my eyes and before me I saw a horrid sight. The boy lay curled at my feet. His eyes popped out of a face purple in color, and his mouth was set in a mask of death. Pee had puddled at his groin and he smelled of excrement. I screamed a thin howl of terror.
My mother was on me in an instant and she dragged me away from the corpse. I stood there shivering while she set to screaming for the women of the house.
“I found him like this, alone! What has happened?” my mother wailed as if stricken with grief.
The women gathered and began to shriek and wail in mourning. An old woman who appeared almost blind began to grope at the body. “I expected this would happen one day!” she said in a singsong voice. “Daughter-in-law, you have spoiled him so badly that it has happened as I predicted! He has eaten himself to death! You are fat and useless yourself. Now without a son you may as well be dead. I will council my son to find a better wife!”
At this the mother wailed and tore her bodice as she scooped dusty earth up and poured it over her head and body. I stayed quiet, hoping they wouldn’t notice me. One woman finally opened the corpse’s mouth and pulled the hunk of cartilage from its throat. “It is as she said. Greed has killed this brat!”
My mother didn’t ask to be paid for her work that day and we went hungry. As we made our way home she grunted and looked away as she spoke. “You! You killed that fat good-for-nothing rich child with the same sort of sorcery that your father used. You had better beware or we will both end up burnt at the stake for using unlawful magic!”

http://www.extasybooks.com/sorcerer-in-egypt/

My Vacation with the Sorcerer Gaumata

http://www.extasybooks.com/sorcerers-daughter-2

My dear readers: I have been away for some time with a dear friend, the evil mage Gaumata. He enjoys his fame as an vicious sorcerer, and so I make no excuses for him. In any case, he is terribly old fashioned, and although he is fascinated with the idea of a blog to tell his story, he refuses to touch a computer. He has asked me to take his dictation and post his story. Perhaps he can be convinced to have his own page soon and leave me to my own musings. 

The great and powerful black-hearted sage Gaumata says:

First entry: My cursed birth, my whorish mother, and my sorcerer father.

My wonderful inscription at Behistun will tell my history in Persian, Babylonian, and Elamite.  I will be famous for all time, but you, the reader of this magical text, will know my true story.  I am Gaumata the Sorcerer, now known as Darius the Great of Persia.

It is my secret, but how can I gloat if I think that nobody will ever know?  This is my journal—my story, and I will have it interred with this body.  I have already enlisted the help of the best mage in the world.  He will make sure that this journal and my remains are protected from grave robbers, but later, perhaps in two thousand years, it will emerge and people will know the truth.  Do you think I really trust that mage with such a responsibility?  No indeed!  If he only knew!  I chose him because he is young and strong and his mind is devious.  I plan not to die, but to use my precious black sorcery to take his body, as I have taken the body of Darius as a vehicle for my great mind.  Maybe later another great man will emerge—a man perhaps greater than Darius the Great!  Ha!  But let us start from the beginning.

It all started as a happy accident. I was a miserable lad of five years living with that whore who gave birth to me. She was never a mother to me, but treated me like she would a stray dog. We lived in the town of Fugasa in the Sogdian outlands. I remember her, this mother of mine. She would scream, “Don’t look at me! You have the evil eye, just like that father of yours! What a demon sorcerer he is!”

Over and over she would tell the story. “I was only a child, just a girl. So tender and beautiful! My father died when blood ran with his piss. It was probably the doing of the sorcerer, for a sorcerer can put a curse on a man and truly he will die! Listen my son, for you cannot blame me for hating you! That evil man, after my father was dead and my mother left destitute, he came to us. He offered money and a home to my mother, and she, the weakling that she was, sold me to him. I was glad for what happened to her for that crime!

“Do you know, you craven scarecrow, that I later saw her body after it had been tossed into a refuse heap, and I wasn’t even grieved? How could I be? That man used me, a scrap of a little girl! He stuck that thing into me right here!” she would point to the place between her legs.

“Again and again for over a year he did this to me until finally I was round in the belly with child. With you! Then he stopped. One day he just disappeared and I stayed like a beaten goat in the place he had paid for. I stayed until the landlord took me by the hair and threw me out. Later, his wily wife came and got me out of the gutter. Why not sell her to the men who frequent our rooms? She said to her husband. After that I was forced to be a whore. Now do you know why I hate you? You have those eyes! The same eyes as him—a murky green with an ochre center. I said don’t look at me!”

That was what I had to suffer. I remember the bitter cold nights I passed without a blanket and with an empty stomach. Now I can eat delicacies of any kind, but as a child, I starved. Sometimes the men who pleasured themselves on my mother would come and beat me, as if their sexual scratching stirred within them hate and violence. Yes, I do think that was why.

Curse of Two-Spirit

http://www.extasybooks.com/curse-of-two-spirit/

 The body is weak, but the spirit is strong. Two spirits are twice as strong.

     

    Ray Mankiller is a Two-Spirit Native American. Two-Spirits are people whose bodies contain not just one soul, but two, usually a male and a female spirit. He has known this since he was a child, but it is only recently that the dreams have begun. In these dreams he sees the ancient past. He sees a Two-Spirit like him, but unlike his modern world, the ancient world was dangerous for a Two-Spirit who was also born of a witch. In this tortured world, Deer Tracks, the Two-Spirit of his visions, has visions of her own. She sees the death of the one she loves at the hands of a hated shaman, Lazy Duck. She knows he will stop at nothing to possess her, even though in body, she is a male. It is said that a Two-Spirit brings great power to the one he or she marries.

    The visions are not enough to distract Ray from the problems he is facing in his own life. A newly hired professor of Ceramics at the University of Mississippi, he soon finds that one of the faculty members hates him and wants to destroy his chances of ever becoming tenured. He seeks shelter in the strong arms of Angus Tanner, a professor of Anthropology who is fascinated with Ray’s story…and with his body. When the tendrils of the past start to snake their way into the present in the form of a cursed figurine, Ray is faced with the most terrifying visions—only they are of the present, not the past. He must find a way to destroy the evil ghost of Lazy Duck before history repeats itself. Is he dragging Angus into a trap he himself set in another life?

Writing Seeing Crimson

http://www.devinedestinies.com/seeing-crimson/

So few main characters are Hispanic. They are usually the guys getting eaten by monsters--that is, expendable. Being a Puerto Rican myself, I figured it was about time for a really cool Hispanic hero. Thus Turi Sepulveda was born. Turi had a rough life growing up poor and with only one parent, but he went for his dream, which was rodeo. Finally achieving this, he realizes that someday he'll have to get a "real job." Friends encourage him to go to community college, which he does. He attacks his education like he attacks bulls, and soon he is on the top of things. After a professor urges him to apply to Harvard University, he does it on a lark. To his surprise, he is accepted. He is drunk with pride and happiness until he arrives and things begin to go sour. 

First he finds himself with an immature roommate, but it is the series of murders that finally make him wonder what the hell he was thinking coming to Boston. As the suspicion centers on him, Turi realizes just how out of place he really is. A madman is loose in Cambridge and Turi fears for his new girl, Alison. What he doesn't know is how close the killer has been all along.

The Crystal of the Ukteena

http://www.extasybooks.com/the-crystal-of-the-ukteena/

One of the best things about writing the Crystal of the Ukteena was that I was able to utilize my knowledge of organic chemistry, which allowed me to accurately describe the creation of methamphetamine in a modern lab. This was part of the modern setting. The story travels to the past as well, and here I utilize my knowledge of prehistoric Mississippi Native American tribal life. The Ukteena was a traditional monster of this area. It was depicted as a sort of dragon with a crystal on its head. It could only be defeated by destroying this crystal.
The Ukteena monster can be put to rest by magic, but when Professor Aydin kills a student who he feels has put his drug operation at risk, the blood from the murder seeps into an Indian burial area and activates the Ukteena, who rises, filled with the hunger of centuries of waiting. 
Although Aydin also wants to destroy beautiful Professor Clarissa Ford, she is the only one who can save him, and the rest of the world from the ancient curse.

Fox Sorcerer excerpt

http://www.extasybooks.com/the-eternal-fox-sorcerer/

Ashiya Doman rushed toward the cave, which was their meeting place. He cursed his faith in the demons. What had that devil Vatapi done? The day seemed extraordinarily dry, and he was relieved when he finally veered off the road and started into the wooded area. The trees made it dark and brooding. Fear began to tamp down the rage that was bubbling in his breast. He realized that he could do nothing against the demon, but just remembering his helpless anguish as the demon quaffed the contents of the vial made his anger blot out his sanity.
He had concealed the opening of the cave with branches and leaves. As he snatched them away, he smelled the vile odor of the demon. It was a stench similar to that of a snake, but with undertones of decay and something indescribably worse. He heard the demon’s rasping breath and rage welled up in him.
“Explain!” he screamed.
The oni Vatapi was leaning against the wall of the cave eating the leg of some animal—or was it a human? He scratched the place between his massive horns with a hand that sported horrifically long and sharp yellowing nails. He wore bright red hakama trousers and a sort of vest that was decorated with what appeared to be human nails and teeth. He smiled, letting the blood drip from his fangs.
“Ah, so you come to complain. Well, I did what you wanted and gave Abe no Seimei the poison.”
Doman was trembling with rage. “Then why does he live?”
The oni shrugged. “It is poison for us demons. Abe no Seimei is one of us, you know, but he is also one of you.”
“What do you mean by that? What did you give him?” Ashiya sputtered.
“I thought the nectar would kill him. It kills demons. I told you, that is why I did not take it for myself. You wanted him dead, and that was the only way, but it seems that he is equally human. The nectar made him immortal. You should have considered that.”
“But the nectar was for me! It was so that I could become immortal, not him! And then why did you drink the poison?” Doman’s voice was sore from screaming.
“It is poison to humans and animals. Demons can drink it and it will extend our lives at least twice. It was really quite good.”
“If you suspected that Abe no Seimei might survive drinking the nectar, then why did you not give him the poison, so that I might have the nectar still? You idiot!”
The demon’s rumbling laughter filled the cave. He roared with amusement. “Poor Doman, you are the idiot. Did you think I would trust you to live up to your agreement? You scheme and plot against an innocent man. How can I have faith that you would not do the same to me? Look at you! You are so feeble that you can barely stand. Your teeth are falling out and your balding head shines in the sun like a polished copper pot. If you had drunk the nectar, it would not have made you young. You would have had to be immortal in your present body—an eternal geezer. I was doing you a kind of favor. Anyway, we demons feel a sort of kinship with the half demons like Abe no Seimei—mostly because you humans despise us so much.” He took a savage bite from the leg he’d been gnawing on, and spit a large piece of cartilage in Doman’s direction. He beat his chest and roared, causing Doman to flee for his life.

The Eternal Fox Sorcerer--Abe no Seimei

http://www.devinedestinies.com/the-eternal-fox-sorcerer/

 The fox spirit is revealed in its shadow—Japanese folk wisdom.

     

    Andre finally learns the dreaded truth, the secret of how Abe no Seimei became the eternal fox sorcerer. He also ends up entering into a pact he didn’t expect. He is shocked when Seimei insists on going back home with Andre, who doesn’t know how he will deal with a thousand-year-old man in his own world. Will Seimei’s demon associates crash the plane? Will his mother, a hereditary miko shaman woman, guess the truth of Seimei? He is too frightened to think of the possibilities, but he is also ecstatic to think that they can be together. When Seimei decides to accompany Andre to see his Harvard advisor, the situation turns dire. Seimei reveals to him that the man he thought was his professor may actually be the reincarnation of his archenemy, Ashiya Doman. Will Andre and Seimei survive the encounter?