Parasites of the Universe by Evelyn Moores Book Promo
Parasites of the Universe explores what life might be like in a future with few resources, countless diseases, poisonous waters, and a deadly, infiltrating sun. The story is told through the life experience of a woman who is a member of one of the three diminutive tribes that gather in a small semi-inhabitable region. It presents binding and oppressive traditions and delicate interactions between peoples and a harsh environment.
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Suddenly her eyes opened and she cried, “ Mommy!” It was completely dark around her except for her face, yet, through the pitch, I could see distinct figures scurrying about. There were noises uncomfortably audible. The sound was hard to describe, but it seemed similar to an amplified masticating, slurping, and chomping clamor that one might make chewing down a pine nut paste for medicine. The consumption sounds were echoing off a wall or two, and they were followed by gurgling and clicking noises that appeared to be some type of communication. The sounds were coming from figures in the shadows. The occasional long spidery arm was raised to the limited light, just enough to show a figurine with a large head bent forward over the neck as though it had been mounted directly on the shoulders of the beasts . It was the ghouls! I had to protect Alexandra. I reached for her but the distance between us had grown n. Her presence slowly faded into the darkness. But her voice did not. Her cries for help grew louder, deafening, and haunting. I felt the pain of vulnerability deep within my spirit and I loathed myself for even considering my feelings w hen Alexandra was in such dire need. “Mommy!” she cried. “Help me!” I wanted to rip open my chest and expose the flesh that these creatures sought in an attempt to divert them from Alexandra to me. But I could not. I did not possess the power in this alternative world, the world that existed in the shadows of my darkest memories. In this world, all I could do was feel the pain of loss and no control. Then I heard another quieter, more distinct voice saying, “She looks dead?” I turned and looked toward the voice as I opened my eyes. I had made it to the landing. I was in a treatment facility at Moraine Edge, more dead than alive I gathered from the comments of the Moraines. “You never know with those mountain people,” another retorted in response to my apparent resurrection. “How long have I been here?” I questioned in the groggiest of voices. I am sure I must have been slurring my words. Why that was of such concern to me as I lay immersed in my own diarrhea with fumes clearly noxious to the Moraines was certainly a mystery. “A day,” one responded. “We’re going to try and get you to stand while we clean you.” They hoisted me up from the mattress, and slowly we made our way out of the compound to the creek that centered most of the dwellings of Moraine Edge. It was not the best conditions for observing a new village, a new region, or a new Peoples’ habitat. Yet I was still able to study the Moraine territory. Their huts appeared to be composed mainly of clay and they were situated on relatively flat terrain. In contrast, houses of the mountain people were constructed from trees and other foliage and were erected on ledges and small plateaus elevated in the regal crags of the mountains. One other dissimilarity was the way the homes were located so closely to this small creek that meandered down towards the Poison Sea. Unlike the Moraines, the mountain people distanced themselves from the streams flowing from the mountain tops for this area was considered volatile with a less stable foundation for building homes. We only went close to the streams to retrieve the precious fluid that it contained. This Moraine creek was filthy in comparison to the purity of the mountain springs. The Moraines doused me with the semi-clean liquid that was sometimes intolerable at best for drinking. Nothing was comparable to the mountain water of my people. The mountain water was the Moraines’ lust. Why hadn’t they attempted a hostile takeover of our land in order to gain unlimited access to the cleaner water? They were far more robust and know n to be aggressive. They could easily overpower us. Luckily, for the mountain people, these light-skinned inhabitants could not tolerate the sun’s rays that permeated the mountains. Here in Moraine, the sun was far less intense, which became clear to me when I began to shiver uncontrollably in response to the shock of dirty cold water hitting my torso. That and the fact that I was still quite ill, malnourished, and dehydrated, from my venture across the Poison Sea encouraged the Moraines to escort me back to the complex. Another mattress had been placed in my sleeping spot in the dwelling. Another salvaged piece of cloth was placed on dead vegetation. It was hard to assess how comfortable it was as I lay in my discomfort. I longed for my own mattress made of salvage cloth and sand. I longed for my home. I missed my children and grandchild dreadfully. I even missed their father. That, in itself, made it clear to me that I must be deathly ill. I drifted frightfully back into sleep and prayed not to witness another nightmare involving Alexandra.
I am from a small community in Northern Ontario. I have my Masters, B.Ed, and B.A. Find me online on my Author Website