IBO by Brian R. Lundin (the best books of all time .txt) 📕

punched him his left eye, which immediately began to swell.


The two men sat down at the table breathing heavily and the big man started to pour them another glass of wine, they had had their turn, now it was his. As the big man with the big fist got up from the table and started to walk towards Mr. Motovo, he wrapped the dirty white towel around his right fist. As he walked towards Mr. Motovo, he smacked the fist with the towel into his other hand’s palm, emitting a muted but terrifying sound.
“You guys are out of sha…………”
However, before he finishes his statement, the overhead lights began to pop and fizzle, and went out, the room became very dark.
“What’s the hell,” the big man said looking around.
“Oh my God!” Mr. Montovo said he heard the wiry man say in a trembling voice. The big man saw a shadow or a blur and heard what sounded like an animal growl. As he rubbed his eyes, trying to adjust them to the darkness, he felt a sharp pain in his stomach. When he put his hands, there he felt blood and soft tissue. His eyes now accustomed to the dark looked down and he saw his intestines spilling out onto the dirty floor. He tried to scream, but there was no sound, his throat was being ripped out. As he fell to the floor he saw the blur again, moving swiftly towards the table where his two companions had been sitting, he heard the wine bottle and the glasses crashing to the floor and he heard the loud, terrifying screams of his companions, and then there was silence. Mr. Montovo said his eyes had became accustomed to the dark and he saw what looked like a big cat, quickly moving around the room, he was able to see the wiry man, his headless body was still sitting at the table, but he did not see his head. The squat man was also still sitting in a chair at the table, his head had dropped on his chest but he had no visible wounds, but Mr. Motovo could tell he was dead also, his eyes and mouth were wide open and his eyes were glazed in death. His skin had turned an ash gray and his face was contorted in fear. Mr. Montovo said he heard a growl, but he was bound so tight he could not turn his head in the direction of the sound, he felt icy cold fingers cutting the ropes and he was being helped out of the chair. Through his swollen eyes, he saw this beautiful young woman and man. As they helped him to stand, they slowly walked over to the big man, who was gasping for air and holding his stomach, his eyes were wide and he had a surprised look on his death face, then suddenly they were gone.
There are similar stories of this benevolent shape shifter, or she-devil told by Groits, or storytellers, all over Africa and Haiti. As the storyteller explained, the Iwa is a revered figure in African and Haitian folklore that is believed to be a protector of the weak and defenseless.”
“That was quite a story,” Eli said.
“Why is Mr. Motovo in a wheel chair?” He asked.
“When he was a young boy he caught the “Crippling disease,” I think you call it polio.”
Eli could tell that the telling of the story had bothered Yolanda. Tears were starting to swell in her eyes. He hugged her close and said, “I love you.”
“Not as much as I love you, Eli.”
Later that evening, Diki told Malik and Eli that Doctor Lumody was visiting and wanted to see them.
“In regards to our last conversation, we have been conducting experiments with some opium alkaloids and we found that we can extract a substance that has the same euphoric effect as heroin but in the form of a pill. Taking the pill orally removes the need for needles and it has a time-release mechanism. The effects last for about two hours and will make the user feel very relaxed. It is very inexpensive to produce but we still got some more work to do, I will let you know when it is ready.”
On their way back to the house, Eli told Diki and Malik about his conversations with Yolanda, the Groit, and their stories about the Iwa.
“The Iwa is a true entity for my people and they believe she protects them and they worship her. They believe that the reason we are at peace and is prosperous is she, and her powers. I love you and Yolanda and I know you will be happy together, there is only one thing I ask of you Eli, that is when the time comes for your marriage, do it here; it would so please the people.”
“You have my word on that,” Eli said hugging Diki.
“Let’s get ready to party,” Malik said, they all laughed.
Later that evening Malik got a call from his sister Joyce.
“Hi Malik, I got some bad news for you, Moms and the boys were arrested, they supposedly sold some drugs to undercover FBI agents, and they are in the federal lockup downtown. The judge set their bond at a million dollars, what should I do?”
“Nothing, I’ll be home soon and we will decide then. It might do them some good to spend some time in jail; maybe moms will get herself straighten out, I’ll see you soon.”


Chapter 29

The late 1970’s was the civil rights era; the south was trying to shed the images of protest marchers, police dogs attacking children and all of the other negative stereotypes of the south. In 1975, Reggie was approached by some of Arkansas most powerful businessmen and politicians to run for the United States Senate. They hoped that having a black senator from Arkansas would show the country and the world how progressive Arkansas was. Reggie agreed and was elected United States Senator in 1982, their only child Reginald S. Warren, Jr. was born in 1985. Rachael, as her father did over her, doted over her son and so did Senator Warren. The senator loved his family and wanted them with him wherever he went. When the Senate was in session, he rented an apartment in Georgetown for his family. When Reginald was school age, Rachael hired a private teacher to give Reginald his lessons at home. Reginald had his mother’s blond hair, blue eyes and was very light skinned, he looked white, but his nose and lips gave him away. He inherited his mother's slender built and like his father was very handsome, he had his finely chiseled features and dark eyes. When Reginald was not having his lessons, and his father was home they would visit the Senator’s family who stilled worked the farm. Reginald enjoyed these visits with his family and could play with other children. They would go skinny dipping in the creek and play in the fields where they would all get dirty wrestling on the ground; he loved it, as all little boys do. His grandfather Henry would let him feed the chickens and pigs and milk the cow. To Reginald it was lonely at his house, no one to play with, there was always Ms. Hoss his teacher, with an arm full of book for him to read, and he was watched over by the maids and servants, everyone in the house was his boss.
When Reginald Warren, Jr. entered high school, his father hired Ms. Hoss as a tutor. Ms. Hoss was a German American and was an anti-Semite. She was born in Berlin, Germany in 1935 and she hated the Jews, whom she blamed them for all of the misfortunes that Germany had endured all the way back to World War One. In addition to tutoring young Warren in the basics; reading, writing and math she also educated him in early German Politics. She was an admirer of Adolph Hitler and agreed with his policies concerning the “Jewish Problem.” She taught him German and together they read Mien Kempf in German. They read the writings of the 16th Century German theologian Martin Luther who blamed the Jews for their opposition to his new church. She read to Warren the works of German philosopher Johann Gottlieb Ficht who stated that “Before the Jews are granted civil rights their head should be cut off and a new one set on their shoulders which would not contain a single Jewish idea.” She told Warren of 1850’s scientist who advanced new anthropological theories who classified Jews as inferior and a race apart from other people.
When she talked about Hitler, it was with reverence. Admiringly she told Warren how Hitler had been the savior of the German people after World War One. Germany was in a state of chaos due to the hated Versailles Treaty, which resulted in widespread unemployment and starvation. She spoke of how Hitler by the force of his personality and oratory abilities transformed Germany from a land of hopelessness to a major world power. She agreed with Hitler’s attempts to rid not only Germany but also all of Europe of the curse of Jewry. To Ms. Hoss the Holocaust was necessary to save the German race and the Jews had to be eliminated in order to save Germany. The more Warren read about Hitler and his pogroms the more he came to also admire Hitler, he didn’t know at the time that in the future he would closely model Hitler’s ideas.
Reginald attended Reginald Warren High School, renamed from Booker T. Washington Black High School to honor the town’s most renowned black citizen, Reginald’s father. Over the main entrance of the school was a large framed picture of his father and at the entrance under the picture were two large enclosed cases. One case contained pictures of the senator when he was the star receiver for the school state championship football team and their trophies. The other case highlighted the senator’s political life, a copy of the newspaper that announced his appointment as Stuttgart Community Liaison Officer by Mayor Washburn to his election as a United States Senator. The school was now integrated and Reginald was a good student but he did not have the athletic abilities of his father. He tried out for the school’s basketball and football teams, but was cut. Reginald did not make friends easily, he was quiet and polite and he stayed mainly to himself. He felt out of place, he could not relate to the white or black students, behind his back he was called that half-white nigger. Reginald also did not have his father’s intellect; he had to study very hard to get good grades but he impressed his teachers with his knowledge of European history and his ability to speak fluent German, thanks to Ms Hoss.
After school one very nice spring day, Reginald went to the library to check out some books on World War II and Adolph Hitler. When he left the library, it was starting to get dark. He thought about calling home and have William, his father’s chauffeur, come pick him up, but it was a nice evening and he wanted to visit his grandfather Henry and grandmother Ruby who had baked some fried apple pies. They only lived about two miles from town so he decided to walk. The small town of