Washed in the Blood

By Tommy Dodson

Young Tommy Lee Jordan becomes saved and ordained as a young minister in a small Kansas town. His deceased Aunt Rosie, however , has different plans for him. She manifests herself to him from the dark side.Tommy falls madly in love with the beautiful Louella, a older Caucasian woman, in a very segregated town. Aunt Rosie coaxes young Tommy to the dark side by a special communion of blood. Louella is always his guiding force back to his religious calling. They are finally married. That's when aunt Rosie pulls out all stops. For some strange reason she wants Tommy in her legion of daemons in the dark side. Will Aunt Rosie or Louella win this battle? You have to read my book to see.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tommy Dodson
• Release date: Jul 16, 2017
• ISBN: 9780463922590

Tommy Dodson

I am an artist/ musician living in Los Angeles with my partner of 25 years. My passions are music, writing, and photography. This is my first book and it is loosely based on a great aunt of mine who practiced Voodoo. It deals with her relation with her nephew who becomes a minister. She tries to convert him to the dark side. He struggles against it and becomes one of the world’s best known and loved ministers. Aunt Rosie will not leave him alone, however. Even after death, she keeps coming back. I've been previously published in local news papers and Reader's Digest. I traveled the world performing as a jazz musician / vocalist working on cruise ships. My Photography has been published in Better Homes and Gardens and on numerous calendars and religious publications.

Book preview

Washed In The Blood

A Novel by

Tommy Dodson

© 2010

Chapter 1: Born Again

It was the summer of 1957, when I let my grandpa down. I can still see the hurt on his face. It was unusually hot that summer and Mt. Hebron Baptist Church was having its yearly camp meeting down by the lake. That evening I was saved. I was baptized in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Grandpa was so proud of me that night that he promised to let me sit on the deacons’ bench with him the following Sunday at my first communion. I remember spending that whole next week wondering how I would be able to live free from sin for the rest of my life. But why should that be so difficult? Grownups did it all the time. I remember hearing my nanny talk about how old Deacon Willis used to drink and gamble all his money away until the Lord stepped into his life and cleaned him up.

My mother never spoke too much about my being saved, but when she did, it was not favorable. She didn’t put much trust in born-again Christians. She would tell me that if they’d lived right the first time around, the Lord wouldn’t have to re-do his work.

Sunday wouldn’t come fast enough, but finally it arrived. My dad had bought me a seersucker suit that was white with blue pinstripes. That kind of suit was the envy of every young boy in Ft. Scott. I must say, I was proud of that suit, and I posed and preened for quite a while in front of the mirror until I heard Nanny calling from across the lot for me to come on out of there. It was time for church.

Nanny, my brother, sister, and I piled into Grandpa’s new, shiny ’57 Dodge. Dad and Mom always came along a little bit later. I think Mom put off getting to church as long as she could. She probably wouldn’t have gone at all if it had not been for Nanny.

Mom was not happily married. Even as a child, I sensed that. Dad drank too much, and was always torn between his mother and my mom running his life. Mom hated dad’s mother. We called her Nanny.The feeling was mutual. Most of the time, however, they remained civil for the sake of the family. However, Grandpa had to referee spats between the two of them more than once. Poor Dad, he did not have a chance.

As we reached the church and parked, I could hear the deacons starting the devotional service. Grandpa was upset because he was late. He quickly parked the car, jumped out, and called back that he would see us inside. I could hear Deacon Willis’s deep baritone voice wailing, "I love the Lord, He heard my cry and pitied every groan. Long as I live and troubles rise, I’ll hasten to his throne". The congregation joined in at the end of each phrase as they had done every Sunday that I could remember. Slaves had sung this song in the cotton fields, Grandpa told me. It always confused me a bit, because the Bible says to make a joyful noise unto the Lord, but that old hymn was the saddest thing I had ever heard. There seemed to be so many contradictions in the grownup world. I guessed I’d understand it all better when I grew up. Now it was time for my first communion. Soon I would enter the world of the saved and sanctified born-again Christians. Nothing would harm me now!

Chapter 2: First Communion

I ran to catch up with Grandpa and tugged at his sleeve. He slowly turned to look down at me.

You promised, Grandpa! Remember?

Yes, I remember, Tommy. You get to sit next to me today on the deacons’ bench. You’ll be my junior deacon. I’m so proud of you. I was nigh sixteen years old when I found the Lord. He dern near had to kill me to get my attention.

What happened to you, Grandpa? I grasped his huge rough hand.

I’ll tell you about it someday I reckon, but right now we got to get you to your first Lord’s Supper on time, Grandpa chuckled. Then a frown moved across his face like a dark cloud before a sudden summer rainstorm. I love the Lord, but the Lord’s Supper always makes me uneasy.

Grandpa, I asked, why do they call it ‘the Lord’s Supper’? You only eat crackers and drink grape juice. It’s not much of a supper if you ask me.

It’s all symbolic, Grandpa mumbled, seemingly preoccupied with something. The grape juice represents the blood of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. The crackers represent his flesh.

Gee, Grandpa, I thought, You mean when we have communion we’re eating Jesus?

It’s not quite like that, Tommy, Grandpa smiled wearily. You’ll understand it better by and by.

The other day in school we were studying about the Amazon and Miss Campbell told us that there are still some cannibals down there, Grandpa. She says that they eat people, I whispered, eyes wide with amazement. Are we cannibals, Grandpa?

No, Tommy, Grandpa snapped, sternly looking at me with a frightened look on his weatherworn face. Let’s get inside before we’re even more late, Grandpa growled, grabbing my hand again. Grandpa’s hand was rough and black. Mine looked so small gripped in his huge paw. Grandpa had worked hard all his life and everything about him seemed old and worn out. I was so proud just holding Grandpa’s hand as we walked down the aisle past all the kids at the back of the church where I usually had to sit. Yes, I was proud, with my chest all poked out in my new seersucker suit. The congregation had begun to join in with the deacons singing, "What can wash away my sins? Nothin’ but the blood of Jesus! What will make me white again? Nothin’ but the blood of Jesus!" Suddenly I had so many questions jumping into my head. First, how could blood wash you white? Second, why would a bunch of colored folks want to be white? I always thought white folks looked like something that God hadn’t finished cooking. Then I wondered why Jesus was white. I especially wondered why colored people who distrusted white people so much could worship a white God. Why wasn’t Jesus and God colored?

Well, he just wasn’t! I was almost certain of that because everyone said he wasn’t colored. But the only thing I was sure of at that moment was that I was saved! I was sure I’d accepted Jesus Christ as my personal savior. The rest of it I just had to accept on faith because that’s the way it was. Nanny always declared, God said it . . . that’s enough for me!

Chapter 3: The Blood

I fidgeted all through the morning sermon, which seemed long and boring as usual. I could tell that Grandpa was getting upset with me. Then I heard Reverend White coming to the close of his sermon. I knew it because he had finally worked the congregation up to enough rousing Amens to satisfy him. He had shifted into his sing-song mode, with the organist finding ol’ Rev’s key and giving him rhythmic support. I knew he was ending because he was starting his famous He died! finale. Rev. was now shrieking at the top of his voice:

He died, yeah, so that we might have the right to the Tree of Life. He died! He died! He died, so that you and I, Brothers and Sisters, might have eternal life. He died! He died! He died for you and for me. But, oh, even the power of Hell and that cold, cold grave could not bind him, for He hung there and suffered from the sixth to the ninth hour. They tell me that the sun refused to shine! They tell me that the moon dripped down in blood! But when he went down into that cold ol’ tomb I can hear him sayin’, ‘Grave, where is your victory? Death, where is your sting?’ No, the grave couldn’t hold him! The powers of Hell and Satan couldn’t bind him, for he rose! He rose! Yeah, Brothers and Sisters, he rose early on the third mornin’. He did this all for you and me, Brothers and Sisters. He shed his blood for us, y’all, and that’s why this mornin’ we gonna drink of His blood and eat of His flesh so that we might have life everlasting. Jesus said, ‘This ye do in remembrance of me.’ Remember Jesus this mornin’, his cruel death and suffering, so that we shall never die but have everlasting life.

By this time I knew his sermon had to be over because there wasn’t a church mother left standing. They were all rolling over the floor in their Sunday best, shrieking like possessed lunatics. The deacons were all on their feet urging Rev on with their Amens and Go ‘head, Rev, say that! He was feeding on the frenzy. Rev just couldn’t stop. Every time he’d take a breath and you thought he had to be through, he’d start his He died speech again. Today, because I was saved, I jumped up with Grandpa and the other deacons, shouting, too. Say that! Go ‘head, Rev, I shrieked, looking over my shoulder to make sure my playmates could see me. I sure felt grownup today. Being saved was sure neat! Finally the sermon was over and it was time for communion. The choir started singing I know it was the blood for me. One day when I was lost, He died upon the cross. I know it was the blood for me. The deacons had all donned their white gloves so as not to taint the Lord’s supper as they gave it to the congregation. Reverend White came down from the pulpit. He and the assistant pastor, Reverend Thomas, started breaking bread. This ye do in remembrance of me, Rev intoned, with a solemn look on his face. Eat! This is the flesh of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Drink! This is the blood of our Savior, Jesus Christ, Rev. wailed, falling back into his sing-song mode. The organist gave ol’ Rev. the best