Rooted In The Backwoods

You’d think that Hoodoo only existed during slavery and in the 1920’s....I mean, ain’t that all you ever hear and see? Every time you turn around there’s another story about slavery....or you’re transported back to the past to see Black folk as magical. Or powerful. Or strange. That’s because you forgot about people like me, my family or the people who live in my small town out here in North Carolina.I’ll tell you this though.... people love to mix and match spiritual practices but Hoodoo ain’t Wicca! And I ain’t throwing shade but....no, we don’t pray to a slew of different gods and goddess. We never really talked about vampires or werewolves either. Um-um......something a lot scarier and sinister exists in this world of mine. Something hidden right in front of your face. Truth is, someone like me, could be your next door neighbor, your co-worker or your best friend.And yes, we do work them roots. We do use the bible. We do speak to and go into agreement with nature spirits....sometimes even malevolent ones. But most of all ...we reverence our Ancestors. Nothing happens without them! And let me also say ain’t nothing love and light about this work. And the Ancestors ain’t always nice.Hoodoo serves to protect and harm. Most people boast about being protected, but they’re mostly wide open for attack. The other’s? Well, they like to say they practice Hoodoo, but at the mention of a malevolent spirit, they go running! Terrified, with their tail between their legs! That’s why I’m here.Because, you can’t have one without the other.But, let me not get carried away.... I haven’t even introduced myself.I’m Chade, and before today, I would’ve told you I was the baddest up and coming root worker and conjurer in the state of North Carolina. But something’s been off. I can’t quite put my finger on what, but it is.Even worst this new man.....no.....this 'fine' new man, Emory, that’s come into my life ain’t making it better. Every time he comes around something in my soul aches. Almost like I can feel him under my skin. Nagging at me. The fact that he’s easy on the eyes and doesn’t question my spiritual practices, just makes him that much more of a distraction.Anyhow, I blame my Moma and Daddy for my inability to visualize real love. That type of love requires too much. Makes you weak. Plus, I’m already dealing with enough concerning my best friend, Aurora, who’s been acting strange, and my grandma who keep pushing me to make up with my Moma...but like I said, my gifts have been off lately.Maybe it’s because of all the women who’ve been showing up missing?Maybe it’s because we never found my Daddy’s body?Or maybe because my dreams have left the astral realm and followed me into real life?All I know is, if I don’t figure out why soon, I might lose everything I’ve work my tail off for. This is a Southern Gothic novel based on Hoodoo Folklore. I came into this, wishing there were more stories that highlighted Black American mythology and folklore. And doing it, without going to the past or slavery. This book series, combines the following genres: Gothic horror, thriller, mystery, suspense, dark paranormal romance, historical and magical realism, and employs the use of AAVE and Gullah accents!