Sneak Peek!

An excerpt from Käthe's third novel: Kiddush

...The corner store was a beacon of warmth. Flourescent lights washed over aisles of necessities no one actually needed. Lil moved past cold remedies and Bandaids, dog food and light bulbs, until she found the aisle dedicated to ailments she never imagined she would catch. She could feel the ghost-like scurrying of the vermin upon her head, moving through follicles and premature grey. As she stretched her arm up to itch, a man turned down the aisle, his presence stopped her in midreach. A well-honed existence of shame was the spine of Lil McConnell. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her overcoat and narrowed her eyes to the shelves in front of her. From the corner of her eye she watched as the man passed behind her and turned to a display of foot treatments at the end of the aisle. Powders and cushions and ointments. Then Lil took a deep breath, several more, and began to count backwards from twenty as she often did. A mental distraction that often helped during the mother's fits. But her private spell was useless on the man. He lingered, muttering to himself.

Lil turned her attention to his words. After a few more strings of thought emmanated softly from his lips, she realized she could not understand him. Lil often had fears relating to her own sanity. Since childhood, she had carried the notion that she, in particular, was a sensitive type. More prone to lapses in judgement and rationality and above all, sanity. She was sure it was only time before all cognitive abilities would be lost to the depths of her family's bloodline of lunacy. So, regarding the man's words, her first inclination was to assume that she had lost her abilities of comprehension. But after a few more deep breaths she recognized he was simply speaking another language; a hesitant wave of relief. Yes, but are you sure? She thought. She turned her attention away from the remedies long enough to catch a glimpse of him.

A black coat hung open upon his tall, thin frame, brimmed black hat covered his head, a black beard and mustache screen off his stark white face. He was a spector. A time traveller, Lil thought. Then she chided herself for thinking such ridiculous theories. The man's beard was whispy and unkempt and it wasn't until she looked closer that she saw he was not much older than her. Maybe he was close to thirty, though she was only twenty-two. But she had initially taken him for an elder of sorts; the manner in which he stood was with a confidence only years of wisdom could support. He felt Lil's glance and looked up from the bottle of medicated powder he held in his hand.