WARNING - THIS BOOKS DEALS WITH MATURE TOPICS
Author Website - click here
Unidentified Woman—a literary mystery novel about rape, revenge, and
redemption—follows a young Mexican
girl, Maria Sanchez, who is kidnapped on her way to school one morning. She is
enslaved and repeatedly, brutally raped by paying costumers, mostly Americans.
But she survives and grows up to become an independent young woman living in Los Angeles. She tracks
down all those men who wronged her, exerting a deadly, unusual punishment.
On her
footsteps, following the police failure to capture her, is Gideon Gold: a
reluctant, amateur private investigator, and a former
commander of an elite Israeli paratroops unit and a Mossad secret agent. His frantic pursuit of the her takes unexpected twists and turns,
culminating in a dramatic, compelling game of cat-and-mouse that will change
both of their lives forever.
About the Author: Hillel F. Damron was born in Israel to parents who survived the
Holocaust. He was an officer at an elite paratroops unit and was wounded in
battle. He studied films at the London Film School and became a film
director of TV documentaries, a feature film, and numerous video shorts. He is
the award-winning author of a Sci-fi novel, short stories and film reviews. His
novel Very Narrow Bridge, a first in the series of Gideon Gold’s
Investigation, was published last year.
This year in February he was awarded Moment
Magazine’s prize for winning its memoir contest with his entry: The
Sweet Life. And in the summer, August 15th, his second
novel in the series of Gideon Gold’s Investigation
will be published
throughout the E-reader Universe. Be the first to read an excerpt, and
have an initial clue on the road to solving the mystery: who is she, the Unidentified
Woman, and what’s her story?
Here how
it begins:
Capirato, Mexico. October 12, 1976
“If
life is a garden,
Women
are the flowers.
Men
are the gardeners,
Who
pick up the prettiest ones.”
I sing this song while jumping rope with
Adela, my best friend, before going off to school. I’m only twelve, but Mami
keeps telling me I should grow up and stop jumping rope. Do things girls my age
are supposed to be doing, like help her in the kitchen and learn how to sew. I
hate it when she says that. I keep holding tight to the rope that connects me
to my childhood, afraid of losing it, afraid of growing up. It’s as if somehow,
don’t know how, I know what lies ahead.
The dirt road to
school, that’s what lies ahead, where Adela and I run hand in hand. We skip
between the small stones, still singing that silly song a boy at school taught
us yesterday, about the flowers and the gardeners. And laughing about it, too,
questioning who is the prettiest one: her or me? And this boy, Angelo his name,
is he in love with me or with her?
We come off the
bend to the only half paved road in our poor little village, happy to bounce on
solid ground. Just then a black car suddenly stops near us making noise and
raising dust. Never before in my life have I seen such a beautiful, shiny car.
I can see myself reflected in it, like in a twisted mirror.
But only for a
second. Because the back window rolls down immediately and a man pokes out his
head, asking me for my name. “Maria,” I say. (I hate my name, it’s so… so
ordinario.) He asks me to come over and show him the way to our school. I don’t
know why I didn’t run away at that moment. Maybe it’s because Mami always told
me to obey men. Especially older men.
He opens the
door when I get closer and grabs me by the hand and pulls me inside. He is
strong and he places me in the back between his legs, pushing my head down. I
left my schoolbag on the dirt road behind. But why, I will need it soon? No
matter, Adela will bring it to school. Of course she would. That’s where we are
going, isn’t it? It’s only a game.
The car takes
off screaming. I want to scream, too, but I can’t. His stinky hand is on my
mouth. It hurts so much so I bite it. He curses bad words and hits me on the
back of my head. Now I really scream. He is strangling me. I can’t breathe. His
firm thighs clap my hips. I can’t move. I can’t shout. I close my eyes.
When I close my
eyes, I’m afraid the world that was promised me—going to school with Adela,
meeting Angelo and our other friends there, studying history which I like the
most, our daytrip next week to the Mayan ruins, graduation, going to trade
school, falling in love, marrying and having children—may be gone and lost
forever. And together with the cloud of dust I imagine the speeding car is
raising behind as it leaves our village, an evil cloud is falling over me.
Covering me with eternal darkness and sadness.
Links:
Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/HillelFDamron
Twitter:
https://twitter.com/#!/shalomhd
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book on Goodreads: Goodreads Link
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