Child of the Heathen

Child-of-the-Heathen.jpg

Title: Child of the Heathen

Author: Lucia Carter Keates

ISBN: 978-1-62420-331-2

Genre: Horror

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 4

Buy at: Amazon, Barnes and Noble

TAGLINE

“Would you sacrifice immortality to save your last remaining son?”

BLURB

1968

People are dying inexplicably in Maskek and the local police are divided as to the cause. It’s been happening for centuries.

For Deacon Pierce who has grown up with the legends and mythology of the First Nations Cree, a visit to his teacher’s home unlocks the door to his father’s tortured past.

In 1750 Jonathan Sparkling Eyes Hare signed away his mortal soul and those of his

unborn children, for life eternal: a deal with a demon or a creature of ancient Cree legend?

When nightmares and darker visions begin to affect Deacon’s health and sanity, his white, adopted mother is forced to reveal the truth about his bloodline and the sinister events surrounding his father Jonathan and his lover Damien Drew.

Can past and present combine to prevent Deacon’s death?

EXCERPT

Clattering unceremoniously along the driveway, Janine dragged her stole along the ground, snagging it every few yards on the briars protruding from the potted Alberta roses. To keep her balance, she anchored herself on the cedar wood fence running alongside the drive. Behind her the glaring lights faded into the mist-shrouded darkness arising from Loon Lake. It gave an eerie, almost surreal feel to the landscape and distorted the tall conifer trees into bizarre shapes that might have been animal or human. The solitude intensified the sounds of the night; the howl of a wolf, the snarling of a bobcat, the shuffling and snuffling of the smaller nocturnal creatures that owned the night.

Inebriated and angry and still blaming her husband for leaving her, Janine was barely aware of the noises around her until the piercing screech of a red-tailed hawk split the sky, penetrating her alcohol fuddled brain. She recoiled, startled, throwing a nervous glance over her shoulder, but she could see nothing beyond the cedar wood fence and the dim outline of the steel barrier surrounding the limits of the property. It was beginning to register that nobody had passed her since she’d left the house. Not a single car.

Something moved in front of her, stopped for a moment then vanished. Thinking her husband hadn’t really gone without her, she called to him. “Think you can play games with me, Randy, do you? Well I know you’re there. You wouldn’t have the guts to go without me. Come out, come out wherever you are.”

Swearing loudly as the fur caught on a sharp object that wouldn’t let go, she tugged and tugged until it came away, sending her sprawling across the ground. “That’s not funny, Randy. I don’t think much of your stupid jokes.” When she fell, she lost one of her high heeled shoes. She rose unsteadily to her feet, floundering in the dark for the lost shoe. “Where’s my shoe, goddamn it. I need my shoe.”

Chilled, she wrapped the fur stole tightly around her neck and shoulders. Relinquishing warmth for vanity, she had left her summer jacket at the motel and wore only the stole over her backless gold lame dress “Randy, where are you?” Wishing now that she had accepted the offer of a ride home her anger was rapidly dissolving.

The mist coming in from the lake was beginning to take on a reddened hue, slithering across the ground in long tentacles that reached upwards and outwards. As she stood there paralysed by what was taking place, a strong, sickly stench assailed her nostrils, making her feel nauseous. Then she was surrounded by a sense of dread that she was no longer alone. Something cold, almost metallic crawled across her back and parked up at the base of her spine. Nothing tangible, nothing she could see or touch, but it lingered like a festering toothache.

Randy. Where are you?

The night was turning colder, drawing the last vestige of warm intoxication from her stick thin body. She heard the crackle of breaking twigs, as if walked on by a heavy boot or a huge paw, and a sudden gush of icy wind whipped her hair around her face.

Somewhere out there was the placid lake, now obliterated by the expanding mist. She could hear water, loud, churning and angry as if lashed by a ferocious storm. What if she was heading for it and couldn’t see it?

Spurred on by fear, Janine tried to run but restricted by her body clinging full length gown and one high heeled shoe, she stumbled and fell over an object on the ground; the missing shoe. Shoving her foot quickly into the shoe, she was pushed from behind as she stooped to secure the ankle strap. She landed on her stomach with a force that knocked the breath from her body. Thrashing on the ground she tried to stand, catching her leg in the hem of the dress. Whimpering and breathless she struggled to free her legs, tearing the material. Wrapping her arms around the base of a spruce tree, Janine managed to pull herself to her feet. She saw a piece of her dress snagged on the tree. She must have caught her backside on an overhanging branch as she bent down and it had sprung back and hit her. In her unstable condition, she’d lost her balance.

Dissolving into near hysterical laughter, she tried to take stock of her predicament. How hard could it be? Her head was swimming, the ground spinning. It was as if she was walking on sponges. The goddamn mist was red.

She smelled it again, cloyingly close, the sickly stench of breath in her face from a mouth she could not see. Felt the warmth of the fetid breath settling on her cheeks. Now the snorting, snuffling creatures of the night gave way to the deepest and long buried nightmares from her childhood of being chased by something that wanted to cause her harm.

The sound of surging water was all round her, filling her head with the force of it. Where was it coming from? Emily told her it was a serene and gentle lake. It didn’t sound anything like a tranquil lake. Might have been a storm wrecked sea from the roaring it made, muffling any other noises she might have encountered.

In running away had she inadvertently turned in the wrong direction? There seemed to be no end to the emptiness. Where was the house? Where were the other guests? Surely, she should have passed or seen somebody by now.

The red mist began to phosphoresce, emitting a foul odour that smelled like putrefied death. In one gut wrenching moment and as impenetrable as a fortress the blackness descended upon her.

~ * ~

“It’s so much darker here tonight,” Emily said as she and Barnstable followed the contours of the wooden fence. “Janine didn’t come this way or we would have caught up to her by now. She’s going the wrong way.”

The situation opened up a whole new danger. The possibility of winding up in the lake or losing your way in the unforgiving forest was unthinkable. The thickness of the woods meant that light, even during the day, did not penetrate past the first row of trees.

Captain McNally’s Forest and Wildlife Rangers could testify to many a visitor in the area whose body had never been recovered.

Turning abruptly, Emily and Emett quickly headed toward the side of the house, to where the Simpson’s property bordered the Wapiti Hills.

~ * ~

In the claustrophobic darkness, Janine screamed as an exposed shoulder was scraped by the tip of a sharp, pointed object. Her dark world suddenly rotated as she was spun around sharply, disorientating her. The fetid breath hit her full in the face and she almost vomited.

Before she could recover, the stole tightened around her neck and what now felt like the claw of a large animal, ripped the top of her exposed breast. She struggled with the stole, gasping for breath. She was near to passing out when the fur loosened. Collapsing onto the dew dropped ground she thrust it from her neck as if it contained a serpent.

The obnoxious stink of the thing that stalked her seemed to penetrate her hair, her clothes, even her skin.

Straining to see her attacker her voice raspy and weak, Janine feebly cried out. “Who are you? What do you want?” No vocal response, but as her eyes adjusted to the darkness she vaguely recognised a shape of huge proportion, not a true figure, more like a deep shadow.

The agonising jolt to her back brought a painful cry from her lips as she was crushed beneath the shadow’s oppressive weight. The creature’s full weight flattened her, forcing her already churning stomach to fill her mouth and spew out, bringing an almost human sound of revulsion from the thing that was pinning her down. Quickly shifting its weight, it moved to the side, releasing her left leg. Survival instinct kicking in Janine raised her leg and kicked with all her strength, catching the shadow-thing in what she hoped was the general area of its groin. Judging by the agonised groaning, she’d landed on her target.

Sheer panic, absolute dread spurring her on, Janine ran, tripped, slipped, and ran again. With little left of her expensive gown to impede her progress, she ploughed through the trees, catching her feet in the gnarled stumps, and clumps of clinging, stinging vegetation. Janine dared not look back, nor spared one second to rest; it was chasing her, rapidly closing the ground between them.

Grabbing her shoulders and spinning her round, the hulking creature forced her backwards. Unaware of the direction in which she was heading, Janine screamed, scratched, kicked, and bit him, getting a mouthful of what could only have been described as thick, coarse hair. It felt greasy as if smothered in brilliantine hair oil. She shivered, repulsed by the sensation it produced.

With courage born of desperation, she drew back her fist and punched the demented creature, not caring where it landed. The abomination held fast.

Her shoulder blade popped, leaving her burning in agony. A rib was next to go. The shadow thing was breaking her.

Feeling her hair standing on end from the static as they approached the electric fence, she tried to look behind her. Just before the blinding flash lit up the sky, Janine Preston saw its face.

~ * ~

Emily was already sprinting ahead when Janine’s piercing cry split the night air, “Janine, where are you? Janine.”

Catching up to Emily, Emett took her arm, pulling her over to the left where the glowering night seemed blacker than ever. “It came from over here.”

“Why is she so far out? I shouldn’t have let her go alone. We’ve got to find her.” She was panicking now, fearing for Janine’s safety. They did not hear a further cry.

Emily paused, wrinkling her nose. “What’s that awful smell?”

“Stay here. I’ll take a look.”

He didn’t need to venture far before he found the source of the odour. In shock, he returned to Emily.

“What is it, Barney?” she asked, unnerved by his expression, “What’s happened?”

“I think I’ve found Janine. Don’t go over there. Emily, we have to go back and call the police.”

“Why…?” She ran over and abruptly stopped, staggered by what she saw. Sobbing, she sank to the ground, “Oh, Janine.”

AUTHOR BIO:

I was born in Leek, North Staffordshire U.K. Presently living in Derbyshire U.K. I lived and worked in Alberta and Saskatchewan, Canada for many years, from where I was able to continue my love of and interest in the Native American people and their culture. Child of the Heathen is my first novel to be published (by Rogue Phoenix Press). I have written a sequel; a third book is begun. Some of my other interests include the local theatre company of which I am a member, gothic weekends in Whitby, and all things supernatural.

Keywords: Supernatural, Wendigo, witchcraft, demonology, Cree mythology, Immortality

Website URL:

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Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/luciacarter.keates?fref=ts

 

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Don’t Hold the Hand I let Go.

I don’t have five babies. I have kids. When I look at my kids I don’t see babies I see young adults, teens, and pre-teen. I knew one day they would grow up and move out to carve out their own life. I also knew it was my and my husband’s job to prepare them to make that leap into adulthood. #3 and I are similar we can be a group and we also do well alone. We relish our independence, and crave space to make our own decisions. That said, we journeyed to 3’s college orientation and while we enjoy being around each other neither one of us wanted to be at the orientation. It consisted of a lot of hand holding for parents and students and neither one of us wanted our hands held, and opting out was not an option. Everything 3 needed to do all together took about an hour but it was stretched into a daylong event. I quickly realized I didn’t fit in with the mothers who proudly raised their hands to admit they still do their college kids laundry. In my house you get introduced to the washer and dryer at 9. I didn’t read through 3’s packet, I didn’t fill out 3’s forms. It was all on 3. I answered the occasional question and nothing more.
When the parents and kids were separated I had to endure more parental hand holding with power point presentations on my feelings, how to talk to my kid when 3 calls home, what not to say, how to let go, how to mentally prepare for the let go, having the talk, expectations about how many times to call in a week and visit. Now while there may be some parents who need this. I don’t so needles to say I was irritated I had to sit through it. 3 and I have been together for 18 years we know how to talk to each other and argue. Not gonna lie we don’t always see eye to eye. But to disagree is natural when children are developing into adults. The talking points offered amounted to things I would say to a barista while I waiting for my order or someone I just met pleasant and generic conversation. Nothing like what I would say to someone who I carried for 9 months, cradled on my chest when only moments old, someone I raised. As far as letting go I went into motherhood knowing I was going to have to let go. I never once wanted my kids to stay babies forever. Never. So, for me there is not big letting go moment because I knew I wasn’t holding on forever. I believe mothers who say they want their kids to be babies forever are selfish. As for the talk 3 and I have been there done that. Personally, I feel if you haven’t had it with your 18 year-old. What the hell are you waiting for? As I looked around I saw parents taking notes. I thought WTF? Note taking? Someone really had to tell you this and your concerned you might forget it?
3 had to endure being spoken to like a child about money, again some children need this 3 didn’t. 3 didn’t need the feelings lecture. 3 needed to register for classes. I wouldn’t be so upset set but for the fact that there was no express program for those of us who don’t need this experience. If 3 and I have let go of each others’ hands why is someone forcing us to hold their hand when we don’t need to. It was clear as the day went on that 3 and I were in the minority as if pertained to this experience. One of the worse parts is when 3 finally got to see an advisor and he handed 3 a schedule, which they picked based off her personality and had nothing to do with her major. Now, because of the way 3 was raised   3 didn’t accept those classes and chose classes that worked with the major. 3 is starting college with 27 college credits. 3’s major and profession in life and life goals were chosen by 3. I wouldn’t pick for 3 why would someone else who doesn’t know 3, and isn’t paying for 3’s education feel they could pick for 3. While 3 was enduring that I was being told about in my “meeting” and my blood started to boil. Someone making a decision for my child when I wanted 3 to make on their own. 3 can’t grow if someone is jumping in to handhold. Besides putting someone in a class based on a questionnaire makes no sense to me to at all. But again I was in the minority as I sat in the room with the other parents. We were desperate to leave, but trapped and forced to endure an experience neither one of us wanted. Based off of dread that neither one of us had. 3 and I are excited for the future. To us it’s not the end but the next chapter in our relationship. But 3 can’t grow it everyone doesn’t let go.

Fill the Prescription Hold the Moral Objection

I was reading an article on the Huffington Post under the women’s section today. The article was titled Pharmacist allegedly refused to fill teen’s IUD related prescription. I have been and will always be very vocal about a woman’s right to chose and a woman’s right to control her fertility. But what got me about this story is that the pharmacist assumed things about this young lady and then decided that his or her personal belief should out weight the young lady’s rights and her doctor’s prescription. In summary she was getting three prescriptions filled two there was no objection to the third is commonly used as a prep for a IUD, which the young lady wasn’t getting she was using the doctor prescribed medicine for something else. In short her mother questioned why it was filled and found out that the pharmacist wasn’t filling it based on his or her moral beliefs. The mother has since gotten the ACLU in New Mexico involved. Whatever reasons the young lady needs the prescription that was between her and her doctor. The pharmacist should not get a voice at the table.

This article irritated me for several reasons first why do people feel they have the right to impose their moral beliefs on others. If you don’t agree with a drug then don’t take it but there is a level of self-righteous arrogance at play here when the pharmacist refuses to do their job based upon their personal beliefs. He or she knew when they became a pharmacist that their job was to fill a variety of prescriptions written by doctors. If this particular pharmacist or any pharmacist isn’t willing to filled a prescribed medicine then maybe they are in the wrong field and they should pick another occupation. Because frankly I have a moral objection and personal beliefs about judgmental people who feel they have a right to inflict their morals on others instead of minding their business. I have a moral objection to people who want to make their morals the law of the land by which everyone should submit. I have personal beliefs about people who want their morals respected but don’t want to respect the morals or choices of others. I have personal beliefs about people who think their way of life is the only way to live and go out of their way to make it difficult for others to live their lives. But the difference is I’m not demanding people like the pharmacist change what I’m asking is that they mind their business, fill the prescription, and let the reasons for the prescription be between the patient and the doctor who wrote the prescription. Because unless you are alerting the doctor and or the patient to a possible conflict with the medications. The why and what for is not the pharmacist concern.

Second reason why this story irritated me is because I have an eighteen-year-old daughter and if she were to want or need a prescription that is birth control related it’s going to really pissed me off if her prescription is denied because a sanctimonious, arrogant, and just down right ignorant pharmacist decided to stick his or her nose in my daughter’s reproductive business. The pharmacist has no right to question or judge her. My husband and I have made it very clear to our daughter what her rights are and that we would support her in taking all of the steps necessary to stand up for her rights.

I’m tried of people making the rights of a woman’s fertility and reproduction their business and doing it under the guise of morality. When it has nothing to do with morality but everything to do with certain sects of society feeling they have a right to dictate what a woman does with her body because the voice in their head they call god tells them they have the right to. Well I don’t want my body or the bodies of my daughters and sons governed by the voices in someone else’s head. And that goes not just for reproductive rights but rights and laws in general. I’m very much a logic, reason, and science person.

The third reason the story  bothered me was because this isn’t the first time a pharmacist has done this. There have been stories of pharmacists refusing to fill the morning after pill as well as birth control pills, but I never hear of pharmacist refusing to fill Viagra or drugs like Viagra on the bases of moral objection or person beliefs. I don’t hear stories about men being questioned, judged, and or shamed by a pharmacist for needing pills to achieve an erection. You don’t hear of a man’s sexual activities being judged because of his Viagra prescription. I haven’t heard of legislation being passed to stop insurance from covering those pills. I don’t hear evangelicals decrying their moral objection to those pills. Men aren’t called derogatory names and vilified for needing Viagra. If one only has a moral objection to prescriptions that pertain to a woman’s reproductive system is it really a moral objection or is it just plain old misogyny disguised as morality.

When I got the call no Black Mother Wants

I was pissed. My husband called me yesterday while he was waiting for #5 of 5 to finish her dance lessons. He proceeded to tell me # 1 of 5 had called and explained that an individual who is an officer of the law had been harassing him. Our son had been pulled over by the same person within a short period of time on the same day. (I will not called him a man because men don’t act the way this individual conducted himself) The first stop was to say our son didn’t stop at a stop sign. When our son explained he had and was able to explain the reason was he was confident he had stop. This individual backed off. The second time was while he was finishing up business with his new landlord; he and his girlfriend who is white are getting their first place together. This individual stopped him again under the guise of making sure he wasn’t doing anything wrong. If you’re wondering why I’m not using the tittle officer or police officer. It’s simple a police officer has a sworn duty to protect and serve everyone in the community not harass and falsely accuse those they deem unworthy of respect or protection.
As my husband told me everything my blood immediately started to boil. My husband who is white proceeded to say I knew this would happen one day. And there was nothing we could do to stop it. I just didn’t know when or where. I expected this call. Those words made me go from pissed to full blow pissed off curse words and all. No parent should have that dread in his or her head. No parent should live with the notion at one day an individual with a badge and less melanin than his or her child is going to harasses, mistreat, disrespect, or falsely accuse his or her child simply because that badge has created a twisted hero complex that allows them to believe only stereotypes about other ethnic groups. But the call my husband got is a call that he will get again from each one of our kids at some point. My kids aren’t perfect, hell neither am I. But they are good hard-working, intelligent, creative, and caring children who have talents and gifts to share. While #1 of 5 is a football player, over 6’ 3’’, and has the typical offensive lineman built what he’s not it a threat, he’s not a thug, he’s not someone who needs to be feared or checked. He’s a college student, a son, a brother, a boyfriend, a friend, a good person.
This brings me to my next point, which is if it all about we stop and frisk and racially profile to keep people safe. Then why aren’t white men being stopped and frisked and racially profiled. I mean Ted Bundy-white, Timothy McVeigh-white, Jeffery Dahmer-white, Dylan Roof-white, James Holmes-white, Robert Lewis-white, Jeremy Joseph-white the list goes on and on. And if you noticed I didn’t even list the white Catholic priests molesting boys and girls for decades nor the white men like Brock Turner who have raped and received light sentences as punishment for their vicious crimes. Nor have I addressed white-collar criminals like the ones involved in Enron who devastated people financially. But no registry for white men you know just until we can sort the good ones from the bad ones. Like the current administration wanted to do with Muslims. No pundit on Fox News talking about the inherent danger of white men. Like they love to do when they talk about young black men. No send the bad ones back to Europe movement. Like the current administration has been doing with undocumented immigrants of Hispanic decent. No stop and frisk with white men being the face of stop and frisk. No group of white male teens being searched without cause because they are white and walking in a group.
My husband is retired military and every time someone comes up and says thank-you for your service I wonder if they really mean it or if it’s like saying bless you after a sneeze it’s just considered the polite thing to do. It’s difficult for me to accept the thank-you offered by society as genuine when society stereotypes, marginalizes and criminalizes our children. When our children are “checked” for simply possessing a higher skin pigment. Maybe society instead of saying thank-you for your service society should show thanks by treating his children the same way they treat him.

How Prom has changed

How Prom has changed

I have a friend who posted an article on Facebook that I want to talk about for a moment. In Ohio there was a middle school teacher who made a comment on snap chat about parents having money for horses at prom but not school supplies or passing grades. There were parents who were offended and the teacher is currently on paid leave. While I don’t know the economic status of the teen’s family who hired the horse and carriage nor do I know the intent of the teacher’s comments. What I do think is that we as parents and as a society are missing the opportunity to look inward and ask ourselves some very important questions. Why has prom become such and over-the-top event that can set teens and parents back a few thousand dollars? Have we as parents turned prom into an event where parents competing with other parents to show off who can spend the most on their child? Why have we hyped teens up to believe that this one night is a make or break, life changing moment? And I say parents because at the end of the day there is an adult who signs off on all of this.
I did a Google search online for extravagant prom 2017 and there were plenty of photos of teens posing in front of every high-end car you can think of, posing in front of planes, on private planes, etc. Every thing wrecked of lavishness but how much of that lavishness is just an illusion created for one night that will be forgotten long before that teen hits their 30’s let alone their 40’s. As I have mentioned before my husband and I have five kids. #1 didn’t want to go to prom #2 and #3 one boy and one girl went to their junior prom and attended their senior prom last month. #4 is on track to graduate early and won’t go, (I don’t think it’s his thing anyway) and #5 is too young to tell. 2 and 3 went they had a good time. Number 2 drove and 3 rode with her date in the car he drove to school. We didn’t rent a Rolls –Royce, Bentley, or any other high end luxury car. We didn’t rent a helicopter, nor plane. # 3 borrowed a dress because she said she had enough gowns that she will never wear again in her closet # 2 rented a tuxedo. The night was still theirs and the memories were still created. And you noticed I didn’t even touch talking about prom proposals, which is a whole other conversation.
How can we as parents allow our children to get so wrapped up in one night when in the grand scheme of their lives this one night probably won’t even register when they start to live their adult lives and figure out who they are? Are their colligate aspirations held to the same standard? Do you forfeit the right to complain about the rising cost of college when you’re willing to drop hundreds or even thousands on one night? Have we as parents and society created a generation that is focused on the illusion of reality and not reality itself? What happens after the cars are returned to the rightful owners? The plane ride is over? And the dress is no longer in fashion or fits? And the pictures end up in the attic, or basement, or discarded?

Honors Cords in Kindergarten

I admit this post might sound a bit standoffish but the mom in me annoyed right now. I have two kids who recently graduated high school #2 and #3 of five. Both had several honors cords, both took advanced classes and #3 took classes that count towards her college credits. My gripe: my husband showed me a picture of one of his friend’s son who is graduated kindergarten. Cute little boy but as a looked at his graduation picture cap and gown I noticed he had an honors cord. My kids did a lot of work to get into their various honor societies, lots of volunteer hours, late night studying, writing papers, and on and on. So to see a five-year-old with an honor cord because he got the highest score on a test got under my skin a little. I should also mention that I have never been a fan of the cap and gown for kindergarten. Should the child be recognized for achieving high marks absolutely but why honors cords and not a certificate. When I sat at graduation and saw not just my kids but also all of the kids walking with their cords and hoods that was a combination of years of hard work and dedication to educational endeavors. Not one test in kindergarten.

My book

This is a short one. I sat on the fence about positing this one but I decided to. So here we go. My book Grayson was released on Rouge Phoenix Press today. And I am super excited. The book has several themes but the main ones are generational colorism and how it affects a family, a dysfunctional mother daughter relationship and daughter searching for her father. It’s the first book in the series and it has been an amazing experience. My goal is to tell the story from the daughter and the mother’s point of view. There is also a sister who a feel needs a voice as well. Even though I have lived an experience similar to Grayson’s my goal in this project is to make people especially women aware of the damage they can to do their daughter both dark and light skinned when they reduce them to a skin color. Continue reading “My book”

So is this where we are?

So an evangelical pastor David Grishma decided it was in the bounds of his religious belief to go to a Texas mall on Saturday and yell at little kids Santa isn’t real. Christmas is for Jesus so on and so on. What better way to show Christian love to your fellow man then to yell at their kids and ruin their children’s holiday experience? Not to mention probably scaring the kids as well. Because nothing says man of god like being a complete and utter ass. Why was this so called man unable to extend love to those children waiting in line? Continue reading “So is this where we are?”

Really? The Cup Thing Again?

So here we go with the cup thing again. I went to Starbucks today and ordered my usual a Grande Americano with no room for cream or sugar. As I waited in line there was a woman questioning the meaning of the cup. I hadn’t seen the cup yet. I listened to the barista she explained the cup is about unity and the artwork was drawn with one continuous line. The continuous line is meant to represent the fact that we are all connected, which I know for some people out there that is a tough, bitter pill to swallow. Now when I got my cup I saw people of both genders, different ages, and physical characteristics, etc, on the cup and I thought “that’s cool”. Continue reading “Really? The Cup Thing Again?”

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