Megan and the Ancient Brave

By Bill Holland

This is the story of a teenager, Megan Johnson, happily finishing up her high school years. She lives a peaceful life with her single mom in a sleepy suburban town, that is until she has the dream of an ancient brave who beckons her help with a very real situation. Small town corruption, overzealous real estate development, a local tribal council and a harbor landfill are all part of this poignant story that touches on serious issues of our modern world and has fun along the way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dagda Worldwide LLC
• Release date: Aug 29, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301465576

Bill Holland

As an award winning college professor, business executive, entrepreneur and author, Dr. Bill Holland knows all sides of the career management process. Parents Playbook is your opportunity to take advantage of what he knows. This “mini-book” is jammed full of useful information for parents as they counsel their kids from college to career.Those are some of the reasons why Bill has been asked by Michigan State University, Albion College, the NAACP and NBA scouts to share what he knows with the many parents they encounter.

Book preview

Megan

and the Ancient Brave

Bill Holland

Edited by

Jack Holland

Published by Dagda Worldwide LLC at Smashwords

Copyright 2013 Bill Holland

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 1

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Megan Johnson was fast asleep in her bed. Suddenly she found herself awake and not in her bedroom. She stood beside a river. She recognized the river. It was the Poquot River which was a short distance from her house. The river was low this year, not more than two feet deep. It was daytime and the sun was high in the sky. She wondered why she was there.

Megan looked around at a green meadow behind her and looked up and down the river. Even though the place was familiar, it seemed strange. It was fall and the leaves in the trees were full of color but the color was brighter than normal.

There was the sound of rushing water and suddenly the river rose up, almost running over its bank. Megan heard something moving in the water. The sound grew louder. It came from the north, to Megan’s left. Megan strained to see but a huge Willow tree blocked her vision.

Suddenly a canoe came around the Willow tree and swerved to the center of the river. Manning the canoe was a bronzed face Indian. Even from a distance his dark eyes sought her out. As he came closer she noticed he was wearing rough deerskin clothing. His face became clearer. It was like dark leather full of creases. As the canoe came opposite her it was about ten yards from where she stood. He stopped. His dark eyes were fixed on her as if he was trying to see into her brain. In his eyes there was lost look, a look of pain and anguish. He seemed to convey a message of need. The brave spoke.

Megan, he called in a deep voice, chopping every syllable.

Megan, he repeated. She heard her own voice respond but it was like someone else was talking

Yes, she said, What do you want?

The Brave spoke, My People are not at peace. Greedy men are disturbing our resting places.

What can I do? Megan said, I’m only a young girl.

Stop them.

I don’t know where this resting place is.

River Road, he answered.

Where on River Road?

Then a chorus of sad cries came from up the river. Megan felt sadness also. She tried to ask more but no words came from her mouth. Then the canoe started to move and glided away. The bronze skinned Indian stared back at her until the canoe disappeared into a mist. Only the sound of a paddle cutting the water lingered in her ears.

What can I do? She said to herself.

He answered from the mist. I must go now. Please help.

The chorus of cries, sad and tortured, continued. Megan felt her body quiver and tears came to her eyes. He was gone. She felt an odd mixture of fear and wonderment. She ran along the bank of the river trying to see him again. She tired and the scene disappeared.

Megan awoke in her bed with the smell of the river still around her and the face of the Brave in her eyes. In her half dream state she jumped out of bed and ran to the window. She looked out of her second story window toward the river. It was about a quarter mile away and could only be seen through the trees. She stood there hoping the ancient Brave would appear again in his canoe. She had to know why the Brave was so upset. She concentrated trying to remember what the brave had said, something about peace and River road.

Gradually the urgent feeling drifted away and Megan realized that it was only a dream. She was back in the real world. She left the window, went back to bed and crawled under the covers. She hoped she would continue her mysterious dream, it was so real. But she lay awake. Even though she didn’t know what was bothering the Brave, she sympathized with him. She felt so much for him the tears rolled down her cheeks.

Megan heard her mother approach from her bedroom and she knew it was time to get up.

Megan, her mother said, it’s time to rise and shine, baby. You’ll miss the school bus and I don’t have time to drive you this morning. I have a very early meeting at the Village Hall.

Baby, she calls me. I’m fifteen years old and she still calls me baby".

It’s alright, Megan called back, I’m getting a ride with Hank this morning.

Okay but come on down for breakfast. I’ll make you some bacon and eggs

I’ll be right there, Megan replied. Megan put her robe on and went downstairs to the kitchen.

Chapter 2

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It was eight o’clock when Megan came down the stairs. She dragged her tired body into the kitchen. This was a large area that served as a kitchen and dining room. Megin sat down at the kitchen table.

She faced the large bow window at the rear of the house and looked out at the woods behind the house. She could see through the trees to the river which flowed past the house. It was about a hundred yards away.

Megan had lived all her life in Quisque, a small village on the eastern end of Long Island, New York. Her mother, Sue Johnson, also lived here all her life except for four years at an upstate college. There she met and married her husband, Pete Johnson, who was from Rochester, New York. He was happy to escape the harsh winters of Rochester so he readily agreed to move to Quisque.

Pete was an electrical engineer and worked at an airplane manufacturing plant on Long Island. One day at work, he went on a routine test flight to check out a new electrical system. Tragically the plane lost power and crashed, killing everybody on board, including Pete. Megan was twelve at the time. She and her Mom were overwhelmed with grief. Pete left a letter in the top drawer of his dresser. It read:

"To my darling wife Sue and my precious daughter, Megan. When you read this letter, I will have left you for, hopefully, heaven. Heaven will have to be spectacular to compare with my life on earth with you. I know it will be difficult, but I want to make my wish clear. Don’t grieve forever. Get on with your lives. Sue, eventually you’ll meet a nice man. That will be good. Megan, you are a spirited child. You have plenty of get up and go. That’s great. Give life all you got.

I wish you, Sue and Megan, peace and happiness and that we’ll meet again."

To support her family, Mrs. Johnson went to work as a legal aide at the Village Hall, working in the building department. Gradually, over a period of six years, she took on more and more responsibility. The previous mayor appointed her to the zoning Board. Mrs. Johnson had conservative opinions and believed that the village should retain its rural character. She felt the zoning laws should reflect that. The present mayor was not of this opinion. If it was up to him the Mayor would tear down all the building in the village and rebuild the village into a crowded city. For him, there would be a lot of kickbacks involved.

This morning, when it seemed so hard for Mrs. Johnson to get Megan moving, there was to be an important meeting. The board was considering an application from a real estate company to change zoning on a large piece of property. The real estate company intended to build a project involving many apartment and commercial buildings.

Megan slumped over in her chair. She eyed the scrambled eggs and toast, usually her favorite, and pushed the plate away.

Mom, I can’t believe this dream I had. It has me worn out. All night, I’ve been up and down the river, chasing this Indian brave.

Oh really? I didn’t hear you go out at night. You must have been very quiet. Mrs. Johnson said this as she poured two cups of coffee.

I’m not kidding, Mom. You wouldn’t believe how real it was.

I think I’m getting the message. So what was your dream about?

I was sitting on the banks of the river. An Indian Brave came along in a canoe. He didn’t look like any of the Indians we see around here nowadays. He was rougher and darker looking. Something seemed to be bothering him because he had a sad look on his face.

Did he say anything?

Megan looked up at her mother with tired eyes. Yes mom, he did say something, I just don’t remember… something about River road.

It’s just a dream, Megan. Forget about it. You have to get ready for school.

Mrs. Johnson walked around the table and brushed Megin’s hair with her hand. Megan pulled away, slightly annoyed.

Mom, I’ve had many dreams. This was something more. That Indian Brave didn’t say much. All the time he just stared at me. He looked so sad. I felt sad for him, whatever his terrible problem was.

Mrs. Johnson laughed and Megin looked hurt. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed but every time one of your friends tells you their problems, you feel worse than they do. You don’t feel better until their problem is solved and you’re happier than they are. You’re reacting the same way to an old Indian in your dreams.

I guess you know me well. Megan said.

This feeling will wear off, Megan. Mrs. Johnson said as she rose and walked over to the