The Ordinary Bruja: Marisol’s Story
Johanny Ortega
(Las Cerradoras, #1)
Publication date: November 1st 2025
Genres: Adult, Horror, Magical Realism, Psychological
The Ordinary Bruja is a haunting and heartfelt coming-of-age novel wrapped in Dominican magical realism and psychological horror.
Marisol Espinal doesn’t believe she’s special. Not when she’s back in her small Ohio hometown, working as a barista, haunted by grief and the girls who once made her life hell. But when mirrors flicker with strange words, cigar smoke curls where no one is smoking, and voices whisper from Hallowthorn Hill, she realizes something darker has always been watching.
The Espinal family magic was buried generations ago-forced into silence by Salvador, the ancestor who bound their power for himself. Now his ghost feeds on fear and doubt, and Marisol is his next target. To survive, she must reclaim her heritage, unearth the truth hidden in her mother’s journal, and face the hill that has been waiting for her all along.
Atmospheric and emotionally charged, The Ordinary Bruja blends generational trauma, identity reclamation, and queer love with a creeping sense of dread. Perfect for fans of The Inheritance of Orquídea Divina and Mexican Gothic, this novel asks: What does it cost to embrace every part of yourself-even the parts the world taught you to bury?
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“Ten months since she had dropped out and came home, to the place she promised herself she’d never return to. She was bad at keeping promises. That was for sure.”
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PRAISE for The Ordinary Bruja
“There is spirituality, magic, ghosts, there is plenty of love, there is loss; and above all there is familia, both genetic and of choice.”
“…An impactful horror story that blew me away.”
“This book . . . pushed me to confront my own assumptions about history.”
“You can absolutely feel the anguish Marisol feels at the loss of her mother.”
“I absolutely enjoyed “The Ordinary Bruja”. It was a perfect mix between horror (with a slight humor – thank you early Marisol and her “nope” moments + Kia) and a story that shows you that you need to find your own way, even if everything is pushing you down.”
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Enjoy this peek inside:
Marisol’s ghosts
Marisol Espinal’s name tag glinted under the harsh café lights, a cruel little mirror. The letters wavered, morphing into something off. God, she hated mirrors. The letters twisted like heat waves on pavement. Her stomach squeezed. Does it say “ordinary”? Heat rose to her neck. She blinked, but the word was still there, pulsing as if alive, refusing to prove her sight wrong.
Right then, the faint scent of cigar smoke drifted past her, starkly out of place amid the café’s familiar aroma of espresso and pastries. Marisol glanced around, wondering if someone was smoking inside or lingering too close to the door. She tore her gaze from the nametag. She had always hated mirrors, but this felt different.
Still, she wondered if someone was playing a sick joke on her.
She crossed to the café’s large selfie mirror by the corner booth. Eyes followed her, but she didn’t care.
Who would play with my name tag? ¿Las tres mojonas? They had been cruel enough in school, and she was sure they still were.
She felt a tug on her sleeve and looked behind her. Her jaw clenched, half expecting to see Delgada or one of her cronies, but it was Kia. Tall, calm, and somehow always exactly where Marisol needed her to be. Her hair was in a high puff, the café’s soft light haloing it, and her hoodie hung off one shoulder as if she hadn’t noticed or didn’t care. Kia never tried too hard, and maybe that’s what made her magnetic, steady in a way that made Marisol memorize every line of her face. She smelled faintly of coffee beans and peppermint lotion, always carrying the scent of the café with her, as if it clung to her skin.
“You good, Mari? You’ve got that faraway look again.”
Marisol released a shaky breath. She took a glance at the mirror, just long enough to catch her nametag’s glint. The letters seemed to shift.
That is a “B,” not an “O,” right?
Her stomach twisted again.
“Mari?” Kia called.
Marisol blinked at her reflection. Same old word: Barista. Nothing had changed. It’s just exhaustion. Yet the unease gnawed at her stomach.
She turned away from the mirror, silently promising herself not to look at it for the rest of her shift.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Just tired.”
Kia nodded, but Marisol could tell she wasn’t buying it.
This was why she avoided mirrors. They showed too much.
It had only been ten months since Mami died. The mirror showed that too. Ten months since she had dropped out and come back to the place she promised herself she’d never return to. Gosh. Every time she thought of having come so close only to come home with a diploma-shaped hole filled with student debt, it made her feel like she was walking around with a wet shirt on during winter, and everyone staring at her.
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About Author Johanny Ortega:
Johanny Ortega is a Dominican American author who writes across genres—blending psychological horror, literary fiction, magical realism, and thrillers that punch you right in the gut. Whether writing about haunted hills, generational trauma, or the quiet unraveling of everyday life, her stories center marginalized voices, morally complex women, and the messy truth about survival.
She is the founder of Have a Cup of Johanny, a creative platform where she blogs, podcasts, and advocates for inclusive storytelling. Her award-winning middle-grade and adult fiction has resonated with readers who crave depth, grit, and emotional honesty.
When she’s not writing, she’s raising kids in a blended military family, reading books that wreck her soul in the best way, and saying what others are afraid to.
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