Skip to main content

Review: The Serpent's Shadow by Daniel Braum




Title:   The Serpent's Shadow  
Author: Daniel Braum 
Release date: July 1st, 2019
Review by Jennifer Griffin



Ahhh the Christmas of 1986! What were you doing? I was a freshman in high school and it was our first Christmas with my pup Buffy (Mom had surprised me that summer with her). But I digress. Christmas 1986 is a special one for Dave and his family. His Dad was able to arrange for them all to go to Cancun, Mexico for the holidays. Dave and his sister Regina have just started college. They are used to having things and getting what they ask for. In short they have been brought up with money. Something most of the locals do NOT have despite the booming tourist trade.

Bored in the wee hours of Christmas Regina convinces Dave to go clubbing. All their interactions with the locals seems like they (the locals) aren’t really there. They are just going through the motions. Except for their driver Tomasito. He seems to be happy and enjoy life. After several clubs are looked at and found wanting the siblings are about to call it quits Fave meets Anne Marie and her friends. They are all on holiday with their respective families. Dave is smitten. As the relationship between Dave and Anne Marie grows her mystery does too.

As Dave struggles to figure out how he feels about Anne Marie the ways of the past are calling forth the Mayan people. And calling for change. When the two worlds collide it will literally change everything for everyone.

“The Serpent’s Shadow” is a novel about money and oppression, right and wrong, and how the lines dividing them can become blurred. It is also a story about gaining freedom. But at what cost? Dave will be required to think for himself and decide which fate he belongs to; the one he is living in or the new one only he and Anne Marie can bring about.

All of Braum’s characters are believable and he certainly did his research on the Mayans and their history. He weaves a credible tale of mysticism and what some will do to help the downtrodden masses. He asks his readers (as well as his characters) to think about their values and how far they would go to fix the wrongs done to a once proud and strong people.


Jennifer Griffin is a freelance writer who lives in Northern Michigan with her husband and three dogs. She has loved horror since her first old school black and white movie and her Dad reading her to sleep with Edgar Poe. She has been writing since she could pick up a writing utensil.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Introducing Weird Whispers!

You can help make this happen by subscribing now !

Weird Whispers Story #4: The Irrational Dress Society by Farah Rose Smith

The Irrational Dress Society by Farah Rose Smith “The other shape If shape it might be call’d that shape had none Distinguishable, in member, joint, or limb; Or substance might be call’d that shadow seemed; For such seemed either; black he stood as night; Fierce as ten furies; terrible as hell; And shook a deadly dart. What seem’d his head The likeness of a kingly crown had on.” - Paradise Lost , 2.666-73 PROLOGUE The long-disbanded Irrational Dress Society was an organization founded in 1912 in St. Petersburg, on the banks of the Neva. It described its purpose thus:

Weird Whispers Story #6: A Regime of Marching Faceless by S.L. Edwards

A Regime of Marching Faceless by S.L. Edwards I’m far too afraid to wonder how they removed my face. This place is dark, full of hidden ovens. I know I have no face because I've seen the others, walking about with smooth, noseless mannequin heads. If I look carefully I can see the grey smoke poking through the corners of this dark place, the red light of hidden fires. When people vanish, we mutter to each other: “The fires opened up. And ate them whole.” When the fires emerge, some just stumble in. Before I can blink, the walls are closed and dark again. The screams from behind them sound as if coming from behind a gag, panicked and wild but somehow stifled. These tunnels beneath the city are always burning. In the world above, you can see their traces in the thick vapor pouring out from tall black towers, tombstone smokestacks that mark this network of secret factories.