Hello and welcome to Track of Words, where today I have something a little different – kindly provided by horror author V. Castro, I’m delighted to present a pair of excerpts giving you a taste of what to expect from two of her stories. The first one is very much appropriate to the time at which I’m publishing this, being a Christmas (horror) story, while the second gives a glimpse of a family of jaguar shapeshifters – how cool is that? With a great-sounding IP fiction novel recently released – Aliens: Vasquez, exploring the character of badass Marine Jenette Vasquez – and a whole host of fantastic horror stories available, from short stories to full-length novels, if you’re after some Latinx horror then V. Castro has got you covered!
So read on, enjoy these excerpts, and check out the links provided to find out more.
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V. Castro: Las Posadas is my Christmas horror, only available in ebook. I wanted to write about a different aspect of Christmas, mixing Latinx and European Christmas themes. Expect puzzles, sex, pozole and creatures who don’t sleep.
An excerpt from Las Posadas:
Henry met my eyes as we sat on the floor. “Nola is the host. She can be the one.” I smiled before sliding the box in front of me. The paper appeared old fashioned. Maybe reused, with all the white creases covering it. The tape appeared yellowed and ripped, not cut with scissors. The print was of different types of birds with a snowy background. They were woodland birds including crows.
Something inside shuffled when I ripped the paper. Puzzle pieces? The burning fern tree candles smelled stronger, the air thicker. Everyone looked on with curious expectation.
“Whoa. That is a strange one.” Robin pulled away from the table as she said this.
I lifted the simple cardboard box and twisted it every which way to find out where it originated. No barcode. No toy company logo. Nothing that could identify where it was from. The picture that appeared hand-painted on the front could only be described as hideous. In the center of the image was an old crone. Her clothing was haggard, filthy. The scarf tied around her head and beneath the chin looked speckled with blood. One of her feet peeked from under her skirts. It was webbed with thick claws curled into the ground. She held a basket filled with wailing cherubic children. A dead body hung from the rafter of a hut. A jagged seam of leather thread from pubis to neck held in tufts of straw which were poking through. Bowels and organs spilled onto the floor beneath the body. The grin on her face relished the slaughter. The pupils were a mere single dot of black. Hideous.
“May I have a look?”
I handed Henry the box. He adjusted his glasses. Henry had that Indiana Jones thing going on when he concentrated hard on a puzzle. He only wore glasses with puzzles or reading. His mouth and jaw tensed and released as he searched. His cheeks slightly flushed as we neared the end. Many times, I wrote a text to him about something random and then immediately deleted it. I shook off these thoughts.
He adjusted himself on the floor. “This reminds me of an old folktale. You ever hear of Perchta?”
“Who?” Carlos scrunched his nose.
“The Perchta witch. My family is from Austria. Hence the name, Gruene. This area was settled by German immigrants. Maybe someone had this in their family and handed it down. Basically, she stalks people who are not doing as they are told, children and adults. She disembowels them and then stuffs their bodies with garbage and straw.”
“Well good thing we have our own bruja, too. And it is Las Posadas. I like to think we are protected.” Carlos looked at me and then the altar I had set up.
“It’s ugly; I’d prefer puppies in Santa hats, but I will give it a go. Plus, the cake Carlos brought smells amazing,” said Robin.
Henry opened the box, which possessed another surprise. The pieces were made from wood. Perfectly shaped with smooth grooves and edges. The paint did not appear old or chipped. Whoever created this had to be a master craftsman.
“This is gonna be so hard. I can’t wait! Next to Christmas, I love Halloween.” Carlos let out a belly laugh and began to sort through the pieces. One side had the image, but the other side something else. Black markings. I wondered if it was a double-sided puzzle. Everything about it felt deliberate.
As we worked our way through the puzzle, I could feel that little niggle of longing again. Each of the pieces different in shape, part of this bigger picture. But not all fit together. A piece locked perfectly with another. Made for that shape. They shared a small corner harmoniously. So many nights I looked to my left wanting someone to read my script. Laugh at it, cry with me. A squeeze on the thigh, hugs when times were low. Just a piece that understood what my edges needed. I glanced towards Henry. Maybe.
“Shit. I’m so sorry Nola, I cracked one.” Robin had knocked over a glass bauble from the tree as she returned to the coffee table after refreshing her eggnog.
“No problem. I’ll get rid of it.” I scooped the bauble from the carpet. A piece broke off in my hand. The pain ripped through my fingers. “Fuck!” I moved my hand to the coffee table to avoid getting blood on the new cream carpet. Henry immediately placed his hand beneath mine. “Fuck!” he shouted. A shard pierced his palm. His hand held mine as our blood comingled and dripped on the puzzle.
“That’s really weird.” Robin stared at the puzzle with her hand midair holding a Santa head-shaped napkin. We looked at the puzzle. The blood no longer remained on the surface. It was as if the wood drank it all. Henry removed his hand from mine. He passed me a napkin before grabbing one for himself from the coffee table. With his left thumb applying pressure to the cut, he picked up one of the pieces, holding it up to the light of the chandelier above the dining table. His fingers ran across the piece.
“This wood . . . it makes me think . . . it reminds me of something I found when I moved here. But that is ridiculous. Let’s finish this weird thing.”
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Intriguing, right? Here’s the synopsis for Las Posadas, to give you a bit more information about what to expect – and you can find a link to buy this story just below:
Nola has been single for years as she has put her success over love, but this Las Posadas she hopes to find something more with the gorgeous mortician who has just moved into town to take over the local funeral home after the owners die in a house fire.
For weeks the tension has been building between Nola and Henry during their weekly meetings at Puzzle Club. At the start of Las Posadas, and her turn to host Puzzle Club, Nola has an unexpected guest in her new home.
Pozole and pinata sticks at the ready…
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V. Castro: I love werewolf stories. Hairspray and Switchblades is my Latinx version, however, and my ancestors revered jaguars. This is a story of two sisters who come from a long line of Mexican jaguar shifters. There is murder, romance, magic, and an unexpected villain out for their hide.
An excerpt from Hairspray and Switchblades:
“Are you ready, Maya?” She stood with a towel wrapped around her, in front of her mother, Grace, and grandmother, Amparo. The cold cement floor against the soles of her feet made her legs shiver more than they already did from anticipation.
A small space heater warmed and illuminated the shed. Outdoor toys and garden tools dangled from the walls and neatly sat on shelves. The scent of Amparo’s cocoa butter lotion hung in the air, smelling sweeter than usual due to her proximity to the heater. Amparo also wore a towel; she would be the one to guide Maya that night. The old woman blinked watery eyes, full of memory and concentration, before standing to allow the towel to slip off her body. Her stretch mark-striped breasts sagged to the middle of her torso, the areolas thick from breastfeeding and dark brown like shrivelled chestnuts. They covered most of the tips where the remaining breast tissue lay. Soft rolls of fat and skin folded around her midsection, thighs, and back. Only her hair retained any remnant of youth. It was a coarse, deep shade of black, and slipped to just past her shoulders and parted in the center.
Maya saw what she would look like at one hundred years of age, and she wondered what the animal transformation would be like. A low growl escaped the old woman’s creased lips. The age-spotted loose skin on her bony hands wobbled as the lines began to smooth and fill from beneath. With the help of Grace, she lowered herself to her hands and knees. Maya watched black swatches of fur lengthen from Amparo’s pores; an itching sensation began around her mouth. She lifted her fingertips to her face, feeling around. The small—much hated and regularly plucked—hairs on the corners of her top lip sprouted in a plume of fire. They were thick wires that tore the delicate skin as they pushed through. Her small, brown, rose-petaled nipples, not yet tough from a baby’s mouth, tightened and ached as the sparse fine hairs surrounding the areola swirled in length and silkiness. Beginning from her breasts, pores opened wide to allow fur to grow rapidly across her entire body. The fur above her lip now covered every inch of skin. Her eyes were wide, watching the transformation that seemed like a dream but was real. How was any of his happening? Her shock in this moment overrode trepidation until she buckled to a twisting pain. She squeezed her eyes shut, her mouth salivating uncontrollably with sharp bone breaking tender gums. Saliva and blood pooled at her feet. She tried to scream. The only sound to escape was a growl like her grandmother’s. She managed to look to her left through tear-filled eyes, there was no longer an old woman. How did that happen so quickly without her noticing?
A large black cat with gold eyes shimmering in the glow of the heater, a mighty jaguar, sat licking its paws. “Stay strong, mija. The outside change is not as painful as the one that happens on the inside.” Grace kneeled before her daughter with a tissue to her nose, tears streaming down her cheeks, her emotional torment just as great because there was nothing she could do to ease the agony of the first transformation. Maya panicked; this was it. The bottom of her spine throbbed, the muscles stretched and pulled as if each individual strand was being reconnected to some other bone or ligament. A crack and clap, Chinese poppers hitting the floor surrounded her—the sound of her joints and spine elongating. The pain reminded her of the day of her first period, but the ache was not isolated to her uterus; every fiber was experiencing an inevitable change, a change it was born to endure. “Mama!” she tried to scream as she reached a paw and a human hand toward her mother. On the inside, she was sobbing. She collapsed to the floor, its coldness now a relief as she panted from the internal heat, blood rushing in and out of a larger, stronger heart. All she could do was lay, squirming alone, allowing it to happen. She kept her eyes closed as she rolled onto her back and then again to her stomach, the sound of her insides breaking and healing as close as a dentist’s drill and just as ear piercing. It all stopped except her panting, a heartbeat thudding. There was pressure on her shoulder. Something wet on her hand. “Look at me.” She lifted her head. Through sepia vision, she saw her mother stroking her coat and Amparo licking her paw. “It is done. It is time to go,” her mother said with a reassuring look. As soon as her mother unlocked the shed door, her grandmother sprinted out. Instinct drove Maya to follow suit. Miguel Jr. sat in his car with the backdoor open. Amparo hopped inside and Maya did likewise. Grace closed the door behind them. She nodded to Miguel Jr. before he started the engine and reversed into the empty street.
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Want to know what happens next? Here’s the synopsis for Hairspray and Switchblades, and a link to buy this story:
When Maya and Magdalena lose their parents to a home invasion, Magdalena puts her dreams on hold and turns to exotic dancing. Cash is what the sisters need to stay together and keep Maya in an elite catholic high school that has set her on the path for an athletic and academic college scholarship.
These sisters come from a bloodline of Jaguar shifters from Mexico and have gained unwanted attention. The San Antonio Stripper Ripper is stalking the streets, out for a specific kind of blood.
Though Magdalena trades in skin, there is no way she will allow anyone to own her. Steamy. Bloody. Dangerous. Hairspray and Switchblades, what more could a girl need to survive the hot streets?
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V. Castro was born in San Antonio, Texas, to Mexican American parents. She’s been writing horror stories since she was a child, always fascinated by Mexican folklore and the urban legends of Texas. Castro now lives in the United Kingdom with her family, writing and traveling with her children.
For more information check out V. Castro’s website, and follow her on Twitter or on Instagram.
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Thanks so much to V for sharing these excerpts with us as part of the 2022 Track of Words Advent Calendar, and for giving us a glimpse of two of her great (and creepy) horror stories! If you want to read more of either of these stories, check out the buy links that I’ve included earlier on the page. If you’re interested in reading more from V. Castro, her novel Aliens: Vasquez has recently been released and looks amazing!
Aliens: Vasquez is out now from Titan Books – check out the links below to order your copy:
*If you buy anything using these links, I will receive a small affiliate commission – see here for more details.
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