Magenta Sweeney, aka Magenta Shaman reminisces on the day - twelve years before - when life finally threw her into the gutter.
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Magenta's mother Rosa has a hard time dealing with her daughter's fits and trances, her visions and healing hands. A shaman from birth like her errant father, Magenta has always unwittingly terrified Rosa, even though the girl is desperate for her mother's love. No longer able to cope Rosa gives Magenta an ultimatum - find an elixir to cure her baby half-sister's worsening skin disease, or get the hell out and leave them alone.
***
Although the books are solid fiction, Magenta's memory spills out as poetry here. I haven't asked her why.
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Find out more about Magenta's terrifying shamanic journeys by downloading the very first episode in the Magenta Shaman series to your Kindle from Amazon.co.uk or Amazon.com.
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She’s Leaving Home
Just sixteen,
she’s bouncing off strobe lights
at Slippy’s.
No drink.
No drugs.
Livid pulses flood
her eyes.
Throbbing beat
loving her feet,
she dances -
all ballet and wedgie sandals.
Arms flail.
Fingertips pitch and point
to the flickering
in the dull ceiling.
With clubbers clubbing
all around
Magenta takes the spinning world
by the Minotaur’s horns.
She jumps on his back,
transcends the borders.
Falls fast, eyes wide open
rising and falling in trance.
Touches, pale snatches
at slivers of skin,
the shaman reaps the harvest.
It is morning.
Baby sister cries and squeals.
Magenta grafts
ancient epidermis
as their mother looks on.
For once... for once
all fails.
Her sister is gone
and her mother wants none
of her strangest of skills,
and her father –
missing -
for ever and ever...
it’s too much.
“You’re just like him.
“Get out.”
She walks down Brighton’s streets
alone.
Veils of power
shield Magenta from
the dark and the desperate.
Mourning and lonely
she slips into a damp corner
to sleep.
“My darling.”
Daddy’s voice, always in dreams.
“It’s time.”
The shaman awakes,
money in her pocket,
a typed address on a note,
a key of gold in her hand.
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