Blues Bones

BLUES BONES

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Here is a taste of Blues Bones. Just for you! 

Rodney and best friend Max are going to the graveyard.

We didn’t say anything for about two minutes while Max watched the glowing dial of his watch. The air even started to feel weird. A breeze would blow, and it was like someone turning the thermostat up and down. First, it was warm, and then it would feel cool. After a few seconds, it would get warm again.
“It’s fifteen ’til,” Max said. “Time to start.” He struck another match and lit the candle.
“Why fifteen ’til?” I asked. “I thought we were supposed to do it at midnight.”
“Midnight is the time between good magic and evil magic. Fifteen ’til is the time to start because we’re doing good magic. According to hoodoo anyway.”
“Hoodoo? I thought we were doing Voodoo.”
“We’re using a little of both, I guess. Okay, get ready to start reading.”
Max dripped rose oil onto the dirt mixture in the bowl.
“Give me the pencil.” He pulled a goldfish shaped sharpener out of his backpack and used it on the pencil, letting the shavings drop into the mixture. He handed me a stick of incense. “Okay, now light this.”
I held it over the candle to light.
“Blow it out!” Max said.
When I did, the end of the stick glowed red and started to smolder. “That stinks. What scent is it? Rotten gym socks?”
“It’s Dragon’s Blood.” Max took the smoking stick and stuck it into the ground beside the bowl. “Now read your paper.”
I had to lie down and hold my paper up to the candle to see the words. It was supposed to be a spell, but it sounded more like a poem to me. Max dangled the Voodoo bag above the candle as I read.
***
What could go wrong, right? This was one of my favorite scenes to write. Hope you enjoy Blues Bones! Go ahead and order yours today.
 

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Thirteen-year-old Rodney Becker has found the perfect cure for stage fright. Voodoo!

Armed with the stolen finger bones of a dead blues guitar player and a mishmash of voodoo spells from the Internet, he and his best friend enter a graveyard at midnight to perform their ritual. Now, all that stands in his way of winning a local guitar competition is the power of RETURN – a side effect of the voodoo that spells disaster for Rodney.

His cure has become a curse. How else can he explain jamming his finger so bad he can't hold a guitar pick, his part-time dad taking his guitar, and his mom getting into an accident that could have taken her life?

How much is Rodney willing to risk achieving  his dream of being a guitar legend?