Analects

Analects? What are analects you ask? Dictionary.com defines them as “selected passages from the writings of an author or of different authors”, or “a collection of excerpts from a literary work”.

Here you will find analects from published works from both established and debut authors. Read on then hop over to The Buzz Book Store and order the book today!

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Excerpt from…

Black Diamond by Ja’Nese Dixon

Nia ePublishing, May 2010

“Life is precious, dear, don’t you think?” he said in a chilled tone that caused her blood to run ice cold through her veins. She clutched the phone to her ear, contemplating her next step. He was across the seas, nearly a day away by flight. What could he possibly do to her?

Pushing her thoughts aside, she refused to let her mind answer the frightening question left hanging. Instead, she refocused on his successful attempt to scare her into submission.

“Yes, I know life is precious. However, I strongly doubt whether you do,” she responded.

Ashanta Kenani was a proud Angolan woman, but pride would not solve her dilemma. She sat in her small condo, alone, near the edge of her bed with her shoulders back in mock courage. He had way of making her feel like a child, which usually meant her emotions would overrule her common sense. Her mind could not process the scene fast enough to register the threat lying behind his words.

Ashanta pulled the phone from her ear as if it were poisonous as his light-hearted laughter floated through the air. His cryptic influence had transformed her life into a living hell. She knew all too well that he could fool almost anybody with his good looks and charm, but not her. Not anymore.

“Call it what you may, I promise you this, cross me and someone will die.”

The silence that followed caused her more concern than his threat.

“But,” he continued, sarcastically, “I doubt you will take my words seriously, with you being in the States and all. So let me send a message that translates well in any language. Would you hold, dear? Someone wants to speak with you.”

Ashanta sprang to her feet and began to pace the floor. Who could it be? The passing seconds felt like hours. What did she get herself into? How would she get out of it? And how many people where going to pay for her stupidity?

The muffled voices on the other end of the line caused her to lean closer into the phone, as if it would help her recognize his surprise guest. It helped. What she heard caused her eyes to burn as her determination melted into pure fear. Then hatred.

“Don’t…don’t…”

Ashanta held the phone in a death grip. She recognized her mother’s frail cries in the distance masked by the commotion of wrestling. Then the phone tumbled to the floor.

“Momma…” Ashanta screamed. She hoped her ears were failing her. What was he doing with her mother?

“Hello…” A strained voice seeped through the line.

“Momma?! Momma, what are you doing there?”

“Ashanta? Baby, I’m scared-”

“Shut up! Either do as I say or you’ll lose more than your finger. Now, pick-up the phone and tell your daughter hello for us all.”

She cringed as every muscle in her body responded to his words.

“Don’t, I promise…” Ashanta wanted to show him that she would comply with his wishes. “I promise I will do whatever you want, just leave my mother alone. Please…please don’t do this.”

Amidst the commotion, she could hear him laughing. The laughter was not one of mutual amusement, but of the devil-playing cat and mouse games. And unfortunately, she was the mouse…trapped.

Sling. The sound of metal sliced through the air. Tears began to stream down Ashanta’s face.

“What was that? Answer me, damn it…Momma?” She screamed for her mother, for him, for anyone.

The line went dead.

Ashanta fell to the bed, crying. Who would pay? She heard the question ringing in her mind as she stared blankly at the phone now buzzing in her hand. She took several deep breaths, attempting to slow her racing heart. The answer was clear, her family would pay the price for her ambition because he would harm her mother, her father, and even her young sisters if it served his purpose. She now knew her naiveté and determination had sealed a deal with the devil.

“Talib, you son of a bitch, this is not over…”

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Excerpt from…

Family Pictures by Rachel Berry

Lulu, January 2009

1997

I hadn’t planned to go out but at the last minute loneliness changed my mind. After an hour of face-stretching laughter at Chris Tucker’s Comedy Club, I felt a man’s eyes heating me from a distance. I looked over on the other side of the semi-dark room and saw this guy heading towards me. God was wearing a silk gray shirt, matching pants, gray shoes, and a maroon and gray tie that night. I wouldn’t see until later how smooth his caramel skin was. Immediately I noticed his salt and pepper mustache. He looked unforgettably handsome: towering his six feet and some inches over me. He bent down to my ear, introduced himself, and asked me if he could join me. I inhaled his cologne and smiled a bashful, sure why not? The next hour found us laughing together at a few of our own jokes. Robert and I exchanged numbers; his was long distance at the time, and we have been laughing together ever since.

It’s been especially wonderful how quick Robert and the boys have bonded. It’s all been like a fairy tale. I have never in my wildest dreams thought I could be so happy or have someone so much into me. Robert is very passionate and affectionate and always makes me feel sexy. Even on the days I look like I’ve been beaten with an ugly stick Robert manages to get me to smile.

In the past I’ve spent many a night dreaming and wishing for what we have. What woman hasn’t? I have many married acquaintances and have gone to their engagement parties and listened to the stories of how they plotted and roped their men. They’d pat me on the back and tell me to keep hope alive. There are still good men out there girl, “they’d say.” All you need to do is socialize more. Well that was easy for them to say, they were mostly small waist, thin, and outgoing women with no kids.

What were the odds, “I often thought,” of it happening to me? Big, bashful Bay-Bay, alone again on a Friday night with three rented Blockbuster love stories eating a tub of popcorn and hating all the skinny I-got-me-a-man women, me.

I’d been hesitant about meeting someone new because unfortunately I’ve had my share of being drug around the love-block a bit, heart broken. In the past I have had men leave me that had sworn on their momma’s that they loved me. But because I had gained more weight, or they thought I was too budgie, or because I had kids, or had their kids, or what ever the going, I-need-my-space excuse was at the time, they finally up and left. So, unconsciously I waited for the same thing to happen between Robert Jones and myself; something to bring me back to reality. I waited for both shoes to drop.

When Robert and I first met we went out for six months before becoming intimate; something entirely new to me. At the time of our meeting it had been eight months and counting since I had lowered my standards and spent the night with Keith Harper, my older son little Keith’s sperm donor.

Keith never has and still doesn’t see or support his son: but sometimes my brain would go into deep freeze and I’d call up Mister Always-Available; it was a mistake I’d make every time I got lonely. And it wasn’t always about the sex, not for me anyway. Sometimes I just wanted to hear a man’s voice or to lie in his arms and feel wanted; feel like a woman. But with Keith, sex was all I ever got and what I continued to settle for. But then Robert came along and changed all that. I haven’t talked to Keith since.

So, because we weren’t getting it on right away, my friends use to ask me if Robert was gay. For a moment, I even wondered. I mean it’s not as if I wasn’t in my prime and didn’t need my necessary tune-ups. ‘Mr. Tongue,’ my vibrator was so tired he had begun skipping beats, stuttering even. Besides, I am the daughter of scheming-while-hubbies-dreaming, Mrs. Soul Sommers. And no matter what she wants people to think I know for a fact momma has a few untold sex-capades’ in her closet too; so I have rightfully inherited my hot natured essence. But as it turns out Robert was just being a perfect gentleman, understanding of the scarred relationship I was still trying to get over from Terry; baby Tadjg’s father.

Never once has Robert called me fat or even talked about my w eight, he only comments on how pretty, smart, and what a good mother I am. I remember asking Robert, about four months into our budding relationship and the peaking of my sexual frustration, if we weren’t making love because of my size. At that time I was wearing a size eighteen and two hundred and counting I-ain’t-feeling-sexy pounds.

I remember like it was yesterday. It was on a Saturday night. Robert and I were walking slowly; coming out of the AMC theaters just having seen ‘How Stella Got Her Groove Back,’ my hormones were kicking and I wanted desperately to spend the night at Robert’s house. Robert’s kisses had always left me wet and wanting and I felt it was time to get busy and see just exactly what this older guy could whip on me. I decided to ask him a question I could no longer suppress. I tightened my fingers around his warm thick hand and pulled him in closer to my side. His eyes met mine.

“I know Angela Basset’s dress size is probably my shoe size, but us big girls can get busy too, or don’t we turn you on?”

“Whoa!” Robert said smiling handsomely. “Where did that come from? That young buck Taye Diggs got you all worked up tonight?”

“No boobie’, it’s all about you. You and me” I winked. “Robert I’ve never spent the night at your house or you at mine. If I didn’t trust you, and you know I do…” I searched his face, “I’d think someone else was getting mine.”

Robert stopped in the middle of the parking lot. We were just under a light post and I could see the seriousness that crossed his face. He cupped my hands in his and inhaled deeply before replying.

“Regal do you love me?” He peered straight into my eyes. His eyes were dancing.

I was a bit stunned by the question. “I…I…adore you Robert but…”

“But you don’t love me,” he finished.

His continuing gaze made me feel uncomfortable. “How can we make love Regal, if you don’t love me?”

Gee, where are those witty words when you really need them? My mouth was dry and empty. All I could do was sigh. People walked by looking at us. Suddenly I wasn’t as horny as I had been.

“I thought you expressed to me lady that you wanted more from us than just sex. You wanted this to be different. I know I do.”

“Me too,” I managed to whisper.

“Well, I’ll just wait until your feelings catch up with mine then, okay?” Robert smiled warmly. ”I mean what’s the rush? I’m not going anywhere, are you?”

Robert pointed at me and before I could answer he pulled me into his arms and kissed me long and hard. His warm lips covered mine; his tongue was searching and thrusting within my mouth. Our breath caught each other’s rhythm. Long passionate moments breezed by. The kiss said: hurry up and catch up or don’t complain.

Robert was being the respectable man I had been waiting for all my life; someone who didn’t mind wining me and dining me without wanting more than a passionate kiss in return; someone who wanted more than just to ride my big beautiful body; someone who wanted more than just to shove his empty big head between my size 40D cup breasts, screw me like a man just out of prison, roll over, fall asleep, and shortly before morning get up and leave; sometimes without saying goodbye. No, Robert was a real man demanding me to be a real woman, sincere and giving, but accepting nothing and no one short of being ready for and about a real relationship. I was getting what I had been praying for and still complaining.

The tape deck clicked on as soon as Robert’s car started. The wine colored jaguar hummed under Robert’s heavy foot. ‘K C and Jo Jo’s husky voices stimulated my mind and vagina. But I knew that was all the stimulation I was getting for the night.

‘Tell me it’s real…the feelings that we feel…’ the song stroked its magic. Robert was quiet. I could tell our conversation had sparked a hormone or two for him as well. He let the pedal have his thrusting for the time being. I let my seat back, closed my eyes, squeezed my throbbing pelvis a few times, and listened to the music as it sexed me all the way home.

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Excerpt from…

Jazz, Java & Jesus by Aleysha Proctor

Xlibris, December 2009

Goodness AND Mercy!

Psalms 23:6a “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life!”

I once heard a pastor say that God’s goodness will give you the blessings that you don’t deserve and His mercy will keep off of you the punishment that you do deserve!

God’s goodness is described as His bounty (prosperity, provisions and richness) to whomever He chooses to show His goodness to. In many scripture passages, we see God’s goodness AND His mercy showing up at the same time.

In 2 Samuel 11, King David has taken another man’s wife (Bathsheba) and she conceives a child by him while her husband is away on the battle field. David then brings her husband home and tries to get him to go home and spend some time with his wife. When Uriah, her husband, doesn’t do as David hopes he will, he then has him placed on the front line of the hottest battle to make certain that Bathsheba becomes a widow and then he can have her as his own wife.

When the prophet Nathan spoke to David about his sins in 2 Samuel 12, he spoke in a parable about a rich man with many flocks taking a poor man’s one little lamb for his own. King David becomes angry and says whoever has done this will surely die! And Nathan said, “King David, you are that man!” He then points out how God has been GOOD to him by saying in verse 7, “Thus says the LORD God of Israel: ‘I anointed you king over Israel, and I delivered you from the hand of Saul. 8 I gave you your master’s house and your master’s wives into your keeping, and gave you the house of Israel and Judah. And if that had been too little, I also would have given you much more!” Get that! God said if after all of the blessings I’ve already showered you with wasn’t enough, I would have given you MUCH MORE! That’s God’s Goodness giving David things that he didn’t deserve!

Then here comes God’s mercy towards David, in verse 13b it says, “And Nathan said to David, “The LORD also has put away your sin; you shall not die.” That’s God’s Mercy – keeping the punishment that he did deserve away from him!

It’s no wonder that King David said in Psalms 23, “SURELY, goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life!” Surely! As in being a done-deal. Imagine that! As we go about in our daily lives, God’s goodness AND mercy are following right behind us! God showing His goodness by giving us what we don’t deserve, and extending His mercy to us by keeping off of us what we do deserve.

As a Believer in Christ, it’s not either/or, it’s BOTH!

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Excerpt from…

Key to My Heart by Victoria Wells

Heart2Heart Publishing, February 2010

Prologue

Somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind, Ava struggled to wake from the endlessly taunting nightmare. Her restless body stirred and twisted, wrestling to keep the painful memories at bay.

The wailing cry of the healthy newborn pierced her trembling heart. What had she done? The question ricocheted throughout the corners of her mind as weary eyes followed the nurse who quickly wrapped the squirming babe and left the delivery room.

Noooo! Please, come back! I changed my mind! I want my baby! I want my baby!

Ava bolted from the nightmare. Her nightgown was drenched in sweat, making the thin cotton fabric stick to her skin. Taking in deep gulps of air, she covered her face with her hands. Tears fell from her eyes, cascading down her cheeks despite her tightly shut lids.

The nightmare always ended this way. It always ended with her screaming for her baby. Unfortunately for Ava, this nightmare was all too real.

On the day Ava gave her baby up for adoption, she pleaded with the doctor and nurses to see her baby. They refused. Without an ounce of compassion, she was told it would be for the best that she didn’t bond with her baby. When she tearfully begged to at least be told the sex of her child, each of the healthcare workers remained silent as if she hadn’t said anything at all.

So what if she’d foolishly made the decision to put her child up for adoption. Did that mean she didn’t have the right to know if she gave birth to a girl or boy? What gave them the right to withhold this information?

Finally one of the nurses, who couldn’t ignore Ava’s anguish, gently whispered to her, “You had a little girl. She weighed six pounds, five ounces.”

After Ava was settled in a room on the maternity unit, desperate to get a glimpse of her daughter, she shuffled down the hall to the nursery. She didn’t know which pain was more devastating—the aches in her freshly post partum body, or the shredding of her heart into a million tiny pieces.

Tears followed the thick lump that formed in her throat as she realized none of the babies behind the glass sleeping so peacefully belonged to her. Three of them were baby boys, snuggly wrapped in blue blankets. The last one—baby girl Wu—contentedly suckled a pacifier in her sleep.

Reliving that gut wrenching afternoon exhausted Ava. She felt as if she hadn’t slept at all. Wiping tears from her face with the palm of her hand, she placed unsteady feet on the floor.

After stripping off the damp nightgown, she padded over to the bureau on the other side of the room. Opening the third drawer, she pulled out a yellow nightshirt and covered her nude body. Before closing the drawer, her hand blindly searched in the dark for her most precious possessions.

Taking slow, measured steps, her hand trembled as she hit the light switch on the wall. Holding on to her possessions with one hand, Ava used the other to shield her eyes for the few seconds it took them to adjust to the blinding light.

Moving back over to the bed, Ava slowly sat on the edge. Ever so carefully, she opened the first Ziploc bag, removing its content. Ava brought the tiny undershirt to her nose. If she inhaled deeply, real deeply, she could still smell the scent of her precious baby. Holding the soft fabric to her face, she said a prayer for the woman who had showed her some mercy.

“Please, Ms. Peretti, I’m begging you not to tell anyone I’ve done this. You understand I could lose my job?”

Ava numbly nodded her head. The hurt she was feeling was so deep her tongue had become paralyzed. This was all too much for her to take in. How could he do this to me?

The middle-aged nurse hesitated, looking over her shoulder and double checking that the door was firmly closed. Bringing her hand from behind her back, Ava noticed the two small, clear, plastic Ziploc bags she held. Coming closer, the nurse kept her voice soft and gentle. “I just felt so bad for you. After your baby was cleaned up and dressed, I went back to the nursery and took off her undershirt.”

Gingerly sitting next to Ava on the hospital bed, she continued. “And I clipped a lock of her hair for you.” Sadly smiling at Ava, the kind, older woman placed the baggies in Ava’s trembling hands. “Your baby has a beautiful head of thick, dark hair.”

The kind woman didn’t mean any harm, but hearing her refer to the infant as “your baby” further crushed Ava’s heart and spirit. She just wanted to die. The sob she released sounded like that of a wounded animal caught in a steel trap. Nothing could compare to this hurt, not even Langston’s betrayal.

Bringing her thoughts back to the present, Ava tenderly folded the tiny undershirt before laying it on her lap. Ever so carefully, she opened the other clear bag and removed the lock of hair, gently twirling the delicate strands between her fingers.

As she made the only connection she had with her daughter, Ava’s chest tightened to the point where breathing was almost difficult. She wanted her baby back. She had an innate feeling that her baby needed her.

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Somebody's Sinning in My Bed by Pat G'Orge Walker Somebody’s Sinning in My Bed by Pat G’Orge Walker

Kensington/Dafina, August 2009

PROLOGUE:

He was so beloved, the thirty-five year old, powerfully built, ultra handsome, caramel-colored, mega church pastor, Reverend Grayson Young. And yet that irony was not lost upon him as he stood rooted to the floor tile of a sex den. At that same moment his cross that he’d normally worn around his neck fell from his pants pocket. He could hear the March wind howl through an open window, testifying no doubt, that finally, he’d emotionally and spiritually traded in his church pulpit for one of a different kind.

So with his legs parted for good balance, he took one last look around the Sweet Bush Lounge. As he shook with anger, his eyes appeared shrunken and he looked deranged. Then the Grammy Award winning, mega star Reverend Grayson Young, aimed the 357 Magnum at where he knew it would do the most good.

“Adulteress!” His head jerked back, a move that caused his smooth, black curly hair to fall about his ears and neck. Suddenly his sable-brown eyes, no longer sunken, went wide as he bellowed, “Wanton Whore!”

There was no turning back as the Reverend Grayson Young used one hand to tip over a nearby votive candle, which quickly ignited the covers on a velvet-backed chair. Satisfied that the fire would purify whatever evil was within the sex den, he turned around and used his other hand to pull the trigger.

When the scandal was over, where it’d served as media fodder for several weeks, there was only a slight shift in the church where there should’ve been outrage. And yet, when it came to the mindset of the flock, it mattered little that before the fatal inferno, and his suicide, just about every Sunday, for the past four years, they’d heard the self-righteous Reverend Grayson Young preach of the necessity to live Holy or burn in hell.

Even months after his death, when the reverend’s many abominations came to light, what he’d preached, and ultimately what he lived, still didn’t matter to the majority of the members. In about every conversation in the house of God, the reverend was still beloved, he was still a man, and he was still forgiven.

However, spiritual amnesia blanketed the congregation of Brooklyn, New York’s New Hope Church Assembly when it came time to forgive the sins of his widow the beautiful, yet fallen First Lady, Chyna Young. They would not forgive her, as God would.

And it didn’t matter that no one in that congregation was sin-free and couldn’t have thrown the first stone.

St. John 8: 3-11

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