Published on July 10th, 2013 | by Belinda Vasquez-Garcia


The Witch Narratives Reincarnation

An Excerpt of a Book by Belinda Vasquez Garcia

About the Author
Belinda Vasquez Garcia Belinda Vasquez Garcia was born in the Los Angeles area. Her family was poor. Her mother had an 8th grade education and her father was a high school dropout. At twelve years of age, her father deserted her family. Belinda’s mother died when she was 16.  Belinda worked her way through college, earning a degree in Applied Mathematics from the University of New Mexico. She worked as a Software Engineer and Web Developer. She is a 2013 Latino Book Awards Winner and was a 2012 New Mexico-Arizona Book Awards Winner.

The Witch Narratives Reincarnation (Land of Enchantment Book 1)

Part One


Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. Mud to mud.

From earth, so a witch is fashioned.

To beneath the earth, so shall she return.


New Mexico

All Saints Day

The year of Our Lord, 1923

Her steps were leaden as though La Llorona rose from the dead, which indeed she had. This was not the first time she left her muddy grave to search for her children. She stood on the bank of the Rio Grande, holding her arms, rocking them gently, humming a lullaby.

Small hands tugged on her gown, little fingers wrapping themselves in the homespun material.

Ah, she thought, my children have returned to me.

When she looked down, it was but the wind stirring her gown.

It was but the wind blowing her temper back and forth across the New Mexico plains.

Though it had been over 200 years since she was stood up at the altar, she still wore a spidery wedding veil. She cursed, untangling her veil from thorns of tumbleweeds fencing in the river like barbed wire.

She was getting her bearings now. She walked, screaming and waving her arms about her.

At times she tossed her head, hiding behind her veil, from prying eyes, from lips held close to ears, hiding from her wedding guests.

But then the wind blew her wedding veil back, and she once more shrank back in horror from eyes staring back at her.

Horrid eyes.

Wicked eyes.

Smirking eyes.

Her mother’s I warned you eyes!

If the mocking eyes of her wedding guests were in front of her, she knew what was behind her, the laughing eyes of Padre Duran who stood at the Chapel of San Miguel waiting for her groom to show up.

Just as La Llorona still waited for her children to return.




Into the black night she made her way east to Madrid, a remote village stuffed in a narrow canyon of the Ortiz Mountains. Madrid was some 45 miles south of the river but no great distance for the bruja who, like some witches from the Southwest, could travel with the speed of a fireball. Just last night, a spark of fire dashed across the sky like a falling star, lighting up the desert in Arizona near the banks of the Colorado River. The fire went out and La Llorona was spotted, teetering on the rim of the Grand Canyon with her spidery veil caught among the cactus needles.

That was last night. Tonight, she chose to search in Madrid where the Hispanos still celebrated All Saints’ Day.

If I had not burned down the church, I could have been a saint, she thought, scoffing. The pope does not look kindly upon destruction of church property.

She approached the village of Madrid, growling at a wooden cross outlined against the sky. The cross was the tip of the adobe Church of San Cirilio. She remembered when this pile of dried mud had been part of the Mission of San Cirilio. If she thought hard enough, she could remember the face of Cirilio himself. She tried to seduce him once, when he had been but a man and not yet a saint.





To purchase to The Witch Narratives Reincarnation, Book #1 of the Land of Enchantment series, visit

You can learn more about the author in her blog at

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