An Amber Intervention

By William J. Ryan

One mans taught hatred of other religions and races of people is abruptly altered in a flash of light. He is forever changed by this event and becomes a different person.
In his attempts to help change the Earth and warn all of its people of the Intervention that is to come, he meets many obstructions. With the help of his sister and an old flame that has returned to his life, as well as a new friend called Amaton Man, who is from a planet far away, he has some small success.
With or without Jim’s help, this intervention is to come regardless of what the Deceivers tell people. Jim’s goals are to expose the criminal element that has taken over. The animal lust to have it all at any price is exposed, to help in part, bring out the kinder side of mankind that is so rarely seen.

• Language: English
• Publisher: William J. Ryan
• Release date: Feb 10, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370747894

William J. Ryan

I am William J. Ryan. I am in my 60’s, an autodidact (self-directed learner) and I am dyslexic. I not only suffer from trouble with letters, numbers and spelling of words changing on me, but structuring of sentences will sometimes be backwards. (Don’t worry; I hire someone to edit these stories before I publish them!) I write for the joy of writing, of getting an idea out there. I write in many different genres, children’s stories, historical fiction, fiction, science fiction, crime, and adventure, all the way to anti-religion. I do research on everything that I write about in order to try to be as factual as I can be. I have self – published 35 books and 22 screenplays! Self - publishing is a great way to start, but it is hard to get the audience’s attention. I am also the illustrator of all the artwork within each of my books and most of the cover art. You won’t find many authors out there that include artwork in their stories. More About Me Born in poverty, by white trash sperm and egg donors, my childhood was one horrific nightmare after another, that I would spend the rest of my life overcoming. Freeing myself from this extremely dysfunctional cluster of lost self-indulgent beings, by cutting off all contact with them, was the best thing I ever did. At an early age I chose not to have children for I was not given the skill to raise them and chose not to pass on the gruesome genetic dysfunctions that I had inherited. Writing personal painful events in one of my fictional characters is second nature and comes far far far too easy. In my early 20s, I discovered my reading and learning disability had a name, Dyslexia and I worked as an adult to overcome letters and numbers changing before my eyes. Later in life, as an older adult, I learned the power of reading and writing and became an Autodidact. This affliction never leaves the afflicted. I am glad to trade the curse of Dyslexia for the skills to invent and create people places and events that I see so clearly in my mind’s eye. Every story, every town, every person is 100% real to me and I see every picture on the wall, the view out the window, the streets and homes of the neighborhoods, making them all real to me and I hope the reader. Artfully crafted acquired skills, from a childhood trying to escape the insanity surrounding this small boy and his young developing mind, where he found himself. i.e. A clear example of a Dyslexic sentence. A short stent (seven years), in the criminal banking industry; where I saw V.P.’s change mortgage interest rates higher on loans, to increase the profits for the bank, cheating the customers. When I refused to participate, I was told, “I needed to think of the Bank First”. My response was “I will never do this.” I also witnessed V.P.’s instruct managers to create duplicate false files (and they did) concealing the crimes of the bank during a government audit, so they would pass. When I could find the courage to walk out, (without notice for they did not earn it) I did and changed my life’s path for the better, still looking for that place in my child’s mind, where people were honest, decent and truthful. All of my life up to this point, I could not face my tormentors, because I was beaten down so badly as a child. I finally found my voice and the inner strength to take the bullies in my life on,,, one at a time. With each confrontation, with each face to face battle, I have grown stronger and developed the skills to beat back the bullies of the world, exposing them for what they truly are. There is no one I will not attack back, fending off their aggression, their bullying of the weakest among us all,,, children,,, has become my single life focal point. At this intolerant unforgiving stage in my life, my understanding of man’s history, is continually being rewritten, removing the light of truth, so I pull further away from people. The worst being the so called God Fearing People, that believe they can do anything to anyone and God will forgive their sins so they can do it again. Every one of them has shown me the black oozing bag that is their soul. There is no helping them, so I stopped trying and recoil from the religious. The evil that all religious people do every day, in their God’s name, (genocide, rape of a child, land grab, slavery) show us all that their god must have horns and a pointy tale. This clear understanding of people and the evil that exist just under the skin, emerges in all my stories. A good writer should not create without understanding, but write what they know. I know this evil all too well and I can write and attest to it!!! Favorite Quotes (some) “Just because you are born in shit, does not mean you must stay there.” The quote is from a female pilot from WWII, instrumental in the development of the WASP, name unknown. “A man’s strength is measured by the strength of his enemies” Sioux These quotes are indeed very powerful. My list is very long and grows with every day. Each day I wait for them to come and kill me,,, the Deceivers that I expose. “Hell is other people” From the book NO EXIT by Jean-Paul Sartre 1944. The things he must have witnessed,,, as the Good German Christians gathered up the Jews (the god killers, Jewish Decide) for the slaughter. Oops did I let that slip? Yes the Nazis were unapologetic-ally Christian,,, Gott Mit Uns (God with us) was worn upon every German Christians soldiers belt as they justified their actions with words of Scrupulosity and its madness. Example; “Our movement is Christian” Adolf Hitler. These Christians are not good people and for me this quote helps prove it. “The waste,,, the waste,,, the waste.” These were the last words of the abdicated King Edward VIII of England. Somehow it seems to sum up the best efforts of man on Earth. “I am ashamed to say I am a member of the human race.” said by Charles Bukowski, August 16th 1920 to March 9th 1994. Words I hear in my mind every day as I see more atrocities of man and his foot print upon this small planet. I carry all of these words with me every day and use them to steer me from the rocky shores of others as I set the heading of my ship away,,, off into the setting sun,,, as I was born,,, alone. Personal Hero’s Ferdinand Waldo Demara Jr.; his skills of camouflages and moving from one life to another, immeasurably helped to guide me and re-invent myself for the better. It is with envy I look to him and his life, for he truly is,,, The Great Impostor. This is but a small window into my soul and reveals but a small part of what has made this man what he is,,, good or bad.

Book preview

An Amber Intervention

Copyright 2018 William J. Ryan

Published by William J. Ryan at Smashwords

Written and Illustrated by William J. Ryan

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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 enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. All information, theories and any philosophies or hypothesis should be verified by the reader from outside sources before one should take any action.

All the theories, diagnoses, and philosophies found within this book, are the authors personal suppositions and beliefs. Characters in this book (if any) are fictitious and any resemblance to others or actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental unless a true name, or quote is used.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapters One through Twenty Eight

About William J. Ryan

Other books by William J. Ryan

Connect with William J. Ryan

Prologue

(Based in part, on a true story) Tragedy befalls a family, wherein a young teenager is railroaded by the police and an ambitious States Attorney for the double murder of his parents. The family pulls together to right this injustice using some unorthodox means and protects the young incarcerated teen and help him remain positive.

One family member, the teenager’s uncle, named Brendt makes a connection with an organization that can protect his nephew during his incarceration, which starts Brendt on a new path that he believes will help the organization and his race.

Then unexpectedly, events change and enlightenment comes. A freak accident changes everything for Brendt; he gains enlightenment and intense sensitivity which changes him forever.

Warnings of future world events predicting planetary and other worldly intervention in its future, falls upon deaf ears.

Chapter One

Murders

Through the dark fog there appears a nice modern home built in the 60s, in a quiet affluent neighborhood. As we move closer, we notice there are no lights on, and we hear a door slam, shattering the nights stillness. The sound races through the thick and heavy night air, and a 14 year old boy named Owen wakes up to the noise. He rubs his eyes and wonders, ‘Who just slammed the door?’

Owen slowly gets out of bed, still trying to wake up he walks to the bathroom, then begins to look around. He slowly walks into the living room, still half asleep and steps into something wet. Then he turns on the light, and finds his mother, Nola. She is slumped back in her favorite chair with her throat slit, and he is standing in a pool of her blood.

Owen lets out a short scream, and stumbles back with his hand over his mouth, as a look a terror comes over his face. He starts looking for his dad, Sloane. He runs into his office, where he turns on the light and finds his father with his face down on his desk in another pool of blood, but he appears to still be alive, yet he can find no pulse. Owen begins to panic, and with all manner of thoughts running through his head as he tries to understand who would do this. He calms himself down and calls 911.

In utter disbelief, he tries to explain what has just happened to the operator, but he is in shock. When the police come, they take turns questioning Owen, trying to get a confession from him. He is still trying to explain what he knew while they are taking pictures. The officer’s made plans to take him downtown, where they could get his statement. Owen is covered in blood, because he had checked his parent’s pulses to see if they were alive.

Owen was told he was not under arrest, they only needed more information. He was glad to give any information that he could in hopes that it helped find who did this. As he sat in the back of the car the drying blood of his mother on his feet was sticking to the floor vinyl. The thought of it made him sick, so he threw up.

It was at that time that he was taken out and checked by the paramedics. They determined he was fine and he was put into another car, this time with the door open. Owen sat there looking at his lifelong home now shattered, ablaze with flashing red and blue lights. The police were quietly talking among themselves with occasional glances in his direction. When they spoke to him it was in pairs and all he could do is repeat himself saying, I don’t know what happened. I awoke and found them like that.

They did not believe him. Each question was like a dagger in his heart as he tried to understand what had just happened. His trembling hands, covered in the blood of the only people he had ever known that loved him unconditionally, was digging a black hole in his soul. Owen’s mind fell back on his mom and dad’s words. It was their guidance and their teaching that had brought him to this point in life… ‘always trust the police.’

He could hear those words as though his father were in the car with him. It brought stillness in him and had a calming effect on the tragedy that lay out before him. His hands stopped trembling with thoughts of their love. His parents and extended family were very close and because his mother and father were older, they had prepared him for their death,,, only not their murders.

The sun breaking through the trees brought new stares from the neighbors and made the ride downtown surreal,,, as though it were another person’s life,,, instead of his. His life had been so ideal and now that was gone. All he had left to do is help the police with whatever they needed.

Hours passed and he still got no sleep. It was midday when his world came crashing down around him. Still dressed in his night clothes, and wrapped in a blanket given to him by the paramedic that had noticed him trembling from the cold or in fear, the crimson color of the dried blood occasionally scraped on his skin.

The police would not let him wash up until they had finished. Owen was taken into a room and stripped down and then photographed from every angle, with the dried blood on him. All he could think of is his father’s words ‘trust the police, let them do their job.’ And so Owen did.

The police tag teamed Owen for hours, one after the other, trying to wear him down,,, trying to get a confession. But he stuck to his story,,, the truth. Like the way his mother and father had taught him.

Owen is very tired, and the lead detective, Detective Powell, approaches him and says, Well, I have got some news for you. Your father woke up and is recovering. Owen could not contain the joy that came to his face. He told us that you did this. The joy turned to shock. Maybe you blacked out and just don’t remember it, but your father said you did it.

Owen started sobbing uncontrollably, I would never hurt my mom or dad! I love them.

This went on for two more hours, because the Detective Powell, whom he trusted, kept pushing it until Owen finally broke. If my dad said I did it, then I must have done it. I don’t remember doing it, but my dad would never lie.

The Detective smiled, and proceeded to help him provide a written confession. All while filling in the details young Owen did not know or could not know. When finished they lead Owen, who was now sobbing, to the processing center, where he was photographed again and stripped searched, fingerprinted and then finally taken to his cell. He lay there in his cell naked, because they did not provide him a jumpsuit and on suicide watch. They would come and stare through the small window with hate and distain in their eyes. One officer commented, Let him lay in their blood to help remind him of what he did.

The next day Owen was arraigned and processed with glares from every cop in the place. By the time any family could get near him, it was too late. He was already being accused and charged of the murders of his mother and father. He was the only suspect. In less than 24 hours the case was all wrapped up by Detective Powell, who had tunnel vision.

There were lots of high fives that night at the police watering hole. Detective, Powell was full of pride, because he just got another confession using a series of well thought out techniques to break people down. This Detective Powell was so admired that he started giving lessons on how to extract confessions from the guilty,,, without hard evidence.

The police have the right to lie in any investigation and he had taken it to new levels of intensity. Owen did not have a chance against their decades of experience in manipulation and public misplaced trust.

Chapter Two

Tribunal

The next day, Owen’s maternal aunt Iness, found out that her brother-in-law (Owen’s father), never recovered. He was pronounced dead at the scene. Detective Powell had lied to Owen, and had extracted a false confession with the lies.

Outraged, she tried to do everything she could to help Owen. She focused her attention on finding who really had committed the crime, but the police would not hear of it. There was no need to follow up on other leads, nothing else to check out, no fingerprints, and they had a confession already,