Shadows of the Solstice: contos, #1

By Ricardo Almeida

"Embark on a riveting journey into the mysterious world of the Reapingers with this captivating tale. In a family shrouded in secrets, the protagonist unveils a life filled with unconventional holidays, ancient mysticism, and mind-bending travels between worlds and universes. The narrative weaves through the enchanting beauty of a forest, the eerie silence of a cave, and the terrifying encounter with apex predators in a distant realm.

As the protagonist grapples with the revelations about their family's involvement in an ancient path, the narrative delves into the perilous experiences of those who dared to traverse realms. The story unfolds with the discovery of three peculiar mirrors, each holding the potential for enlightenment or unimaginable horror.

Through the eyes of the protagonist's father, a seasoned traveler with a fearless spirit, readers are drawn into a world where gray eyes shimmer with the light of a thousand universes. The red mirror, a mysterious artifact, takes center stage as its secrets are slowly unraveled, leading to a suspenseful encounter with otherworldly creatures and a desperate escape from their clutches.

With vivid descriptions, intense emotions, and a hint of the supernatural, this narrative explores the thin line between enlightenment and terror. Join the protagonist on a trek through forests, caves, and beyond, where each step reveals a deeper connection to the eternal consciousness that spans across universes. 'Journey to Hollowhead: Secrets of the Red Mirror' is a spellbinding odyssey that will leave readers questioning the boundaries of reality and the price one pays for glimpsing the unknown."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ricardo Almeida
• Release date: Nov 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223015642

Book preview

Table of Contents

Shadows of the Solstice (contos, #1)

I always knew my family was involved in some strange things.

We never celebrated Christmas, Easter, or even Festivus.

No, our main holiday was the overtied on the first full moon after the summer solstice.

As my parents constantly drilled into my head, we were reapingers, the few remaining mystics

of an ancient path.

The reapingers devoted their lives to travel.

We explored other worlds, other universes even.

Many of us died in the way, or sometimes.

Travelers from our spiritual path would come back totally insane and rambling.

Some had even clawed their own eyes out, as if trying to stop the horrors that they were

seeing.

My father had no real power in the reapingers, but he was one of the most accomplished travelers

in the world.

The young male children of the leaders would often accompany my father out to the woods,

and to ancient cave systems near our house, where he would show them unimaginable things.

One of the young trainees, a brash young man who couldn't have been older than 17,

came back with totally white hair after a single night in the caves of my father.

When I asked my dad what had happened, he simply gave me a sly smile and walked away.

On my own 17th birthday, which took place a few years ago, I was to follow my father

out into the forest before sunset.

We would be heading to Hollowhead Cave, a 10 mile hike from the parking area.

My father found the dirt road pulling over on a slight turnaround.

The nearest neighbor was miles down the road.

We took no cell phones or supplies with us.

We didn't have so much as a knife.

We had been hiking for hours.

I could feel blisters starting to form on my feet, and trickles of sweat rolled down

for my hairline.

The insects, a buzzed and chirped in the ferns and trees surrounding us, and a cloud of

gnats followed us everywhere we went.

There was a slight smell of flowers in the air mixed with pines.

Other than the insects, it was a beautiful and peaceful forest.

Finally, my father broke the long silence.

Are you scared?

My father asked.

I looked over at him.

His strange gray eyes were watching me, studying me.

They seemed to snap and sizzle with inner energy.

My father looked younger than his age, sturdy and well-built.

Muscles grown over a lifetime of work he filled out his clothes.

Even though he was in his 50s, he had almost no wrinkles on his face and a few white hairs.

Those are eyes that have seen beyond, I thought to myself.

Those are eyes that have seen other worlds.

The light that seems to shine from them must be holy.

It must be the light of a thousand other universes.