Then Like The Blind Man: Orbie's Story
Freddie Owens Wegela
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
If you wanted to destroy something, why would you want to save it too?
A storm is brewing in the all-but-forgotten back country of Kentucky. And, for young Orbie Ray, the swirling heavens may just have the power to tear open his family's darkest secrets. Nine-year-old Orbie already has his cross to bear. After the sudden death of his father, his mother Ruby has off and married his father's co-worker and friend Victor, a slick-talking man with a snake tattoo. And, when Orbie crosses paths with the black Choctaw preacher, Moses Mashbone, he learns of a power that could expose and defeat his enemies, but can't be used for revenge. When a storm of unusual magnitude descends Orbie stumbles on a solution to the paradox, one both magical and ordinary. Question is, will it be enough?
Violence & Magical Realism
Orbie renders events from a child's vividly fragmented point of view. His growth in understanding and courage - as he confronts first hand the realities of civil rights violations, domestic and child sexual abuse, religious violence and even murder - can be felt throughout the book.
A feeling of otherworldliness permeates the story, and its symbolism is omnipresent and beautifully handled. Realism becomes magical, as nothing is ever precisely what it seems.
Sex Addiction & Abandonment
Orbie's mother, a susceptible woman, quickly remarries, leaving Orbie and his younger sister at the mercy of Victor, who resolves to leave him at his sharecropping grandparent's place, a dirt farm in Kentucky, while the family sets off for Florida.
With no end to his stay in sight, Orbie settles into routines all but unthinkable weeks before. He forms a strong bond with Willis, the stunningly talented, physically disabled black boy and protege to the uncanny shaman, Moses Mashbone.
Boy Meets World
Inevitably, he finds himself drawn into Moses' teachings. As he begins to tap his own mysterious powers, his mother and stepfather return, throwing his world back into chaos. Can he discover the truth about his father's death in time to protect all he holds dear? And can he do it without being damaged by his own hatred and violence?
Friday.” Cecil handed the letters to Granny. “You skinny as a rail Cecil,” Granny said. “Stay to lunch, and I’ll fatten you up.” Cecil grinned a mouthful of crooked teeth. One had broken off slantwise. “I best be getting on. Thank you.” He stepped back away from the porch and looked up at the sky. His bullfrog voice could well have belonged to a man twice his size. “You reckon there’s rain in them clouds Mr. Wood?” “No. I don’t reckon there is,” Granpaw said. Cecil took out a handkerchief
and wiped his face. His adam’s apple had a way of going up the length of his throat, making a u-turn up there and dropping back down. “Shore is hot.” “Shore is,” Granpaw said. Granny looked up from the letters. “Orbie, go get Cecil a cold drink of water.” “No, now Mrs. Wood,” Cecil said, “I got to get on with the mail. Much obliged though.” “Well,” Granny said. “You welcome.” Cecil wiped his face. He kicked the kickstand away and pushed off. “Ya’ll take care now.” The front wheel jerked side
Old Man Harlan’s face seemed to gather up about his nose. “Who said they was?” “I been taking care of them. For Granny. I been getting them ready for the beauty contest. At the fair. That one there’s name is Johnny, and that one is Elvis.” “Beauty contest?” Old Man Harlan snorted. “We eat chickens down here son.” Johnny had stopped struggling, her wings fanning out now like Elvis’s, open and still. “Please don’t hurt Johnny and Elvis, Mr. Harlan. I’ve been training them. They’re my pets. You
boy a yorn! He’s mad about these chickens. Said I couldn’t kill these cause they was his. I never seen no little boy with as much sass. Like to hit me with a rock.” “Liar!” I cried. Old Man Harlan looked up at Victor. “Apologize to Mr. Harlan,” Victor said. “That rock would have hit me, it hadn’t gone wild,” Old Man Harlan said. “Liar!” Right then, Granny stepped out on the back porch. “What’s all this about?” “He’s been throwing rocks at Mr. Harlan here,” Victor said. “Have not! He
from the jar and looked up in the sky. In a big booming voice he yelled, “The falcon cannot hear the falconer! Things fall apart!” He tried to stand straight, staggered backward and yelled, “The centre cannot hold!” I put my hand over Granpaw’s pouch and squeezed. If Victor were a cloud I might could melt him away. I’d have to do it with love though, and nothing seemed more unlikely than that. Granpaw’s station wagon, with Granny driving, suddenly sloshed up into the yard behind the Ford and