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The Sunshine Trilogy

Marc is a retired automotive professional who started writing later in life. The Sunshine Machine is his first novel and part of a trilogy with a prequel and sequel in the works. When Marc is not writing he enjoys playing acoustic guitar, hiking trails in the Adirondacks, reading and spending time with his family. Marc is a graduate of the school of Architecture and Environmental Design from the State University of New York at Buffalo. and resides in Buffalo with his wife, Kathi. Growing up in the household of ABUELA GUADALUPE, a native American woman and a single parent mother, molds FRANCESCA into a young woman of conflicted thoughts about sexuality and self. Her mother, SORPRESA DA RIMINI, a flower child of the sixties, offers little support to her maturation and Abuela Guadalupe provides only mythical native tales of the “The First People” to school her in feminine sexuality and identity. From an early age she discerns that she is different, supported by the fact that she has a mysterious birthmark on her hand. Abuela Guadalupe insists that it is a sign of her wolf spirit, which affirms strength and vision. Others see the birthmark as a curse and bad luck. Francesca’s halcyon teen years are interrupted by the untimely death of her mother, Sorpresa. At her mother’s funeral she meets the patriarch of the Da Rimini family; GUIDO DA RIMINI. She is surprised to learn he is her grandfather and requests that she return to the family; The Da Rimini family her mother was banished from years earlier, because of her illegitimate pregnancy. She accepts the patriarch’s proposal but later pays a heavy price, when she is raped by her cousin; ROBERTO “Robbie” DELGADO. Francesca's troubles are far from over . . .

Marc M. Minnick · Realista
Classificações insuficientes
60 Chs

Chapter 43: KEMOSABE

The terrain changed drastically as we traveled highway 40, on route to Flagstaff. Prickly pear cactus and creosote bush diminished as evergreens and high desert ferns replaced our environs. Joey slept soundly, as I reflected how the landscape reminded me of the upper Adirondacks. Suddenly, my daydream was interrupted by a large animal standing in the center of the road. Joey awoke from his slumber and braced his hands on the dashboard anticipating a crash. I served to the right and slammed on the brakes.

In the center of the highway stood a moose. It must have measured six feet from hove to snout and a rack of antlers crowned its head, adding another three or four feet to its total height. Its gaze was defined with consternation, as if to say, what the hell are you doing in my neighborhood.

"Man, that is one large moose. Look at the size of him!” I exclaimed.

Joey chuckled indignantly. “That’s an elk, Lukas. Shiras Moose don’t graze this far south!”