Willows Gate: Novella

By Michael W. Maynard

For thirty-years, Philip has ignored the rumors and whispers about his father. He only knew, that during a raging storm, his father ran away and disappeared into the darkness.

Now Philip must face the same horror that drove his father insane. Will Philip be able to face what lies beyond Willows Gate, or will he lose his children to the evil that awaits them.

Join Philip on his journey of survival, mystery and magic. Where the physical world collides with the spiritual realm. Where a crow and a lone timber wolf guide him on his quest to save his children from evil changelings.

Forward

From the warmth of the womb we are expelled into this existence of endless uncertainties and insecurity. Into a journey, which relentlessly compels us to search the great expanse beyond our own fleshly boundaries.

In Willows Gate, Michael W. Maynard leads us down a spiritual path that evokes every aspect of the human experience. The struggles of that journey we must take, known as 'Life'.

Masterfully weaving both imagery and storytelling, Michael unfolds a story that will not only captivate your imagination, but will ignite your own inner voice into action. Searching for your own answers to life's many mysteries.

Steve Free & Susan Sammons
Accomplished Songwriters and Poets

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 8, 2012
• ISBN: 9781418462109

Michael W. Maynard

After placing overall winner in a national competition, and receiving representation of a manager and agent in Los Angeles, Michael had some choices to make. Move to Los Angeles or stay home, in Walterboro, South Carolina, population of thirty-eight thousand. He chose another route and attended film school. After graduating top of his class and voted outstanding student, he went on to write Willows Gate novella (a short novel) for Coppola’s, Zoetrope.com. The novella was derived from the original screenplay, and true to its form, it received nine stars out of a possible ten. This is the novel and screenplay that followed. “It is my pleasure to invite you on a journey into my soul, where blood is thicker than water.”

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© 2012 Michael W. Maynard. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 6/1/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4184-4622-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4184-6210-9 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Dedication

To Daughters Of The Earth

Chapter 1 Once Upon A Time

Chapter 2 Thirty Years Later

Chapter 3 Off To The Woods

Chapter 4 Side Tracked

Chapter 5 The Spirit Moves

Chapter 6 Hallowed Grounds

Chapter 7 Lost

Chapter 8 Town Folk

Chapter 9 And Now There Were None

Chapter 10 Another World

Chapter 11 Reality Check

Chapter 12 The Tables Turn

Chapter 13 The Dance

Chapter 14 Mother Earth

DEDICATION

This is dedicated to my Grandmother, Grace Lillian Clay, she told me Do something with your life. Her greatest regret, never have written a book. She loved me when no one else could.

I would like to thank my father, Don W. Maynard. He told me, Follow your dream. He supported me when no one else would.

To all my friends to numerous to mention, those that supported me with advice and enthusiasm. Mr. Bret Hughes, my friend and Edna 'Midge Mae' McWhorter, my mother.

And last but not least, Martha Joan Cunningham, my wife; and Roberta Dawn Maynard, my daughter. They taught me how to love. Too Caleb Smith my grandson; a special child of GOD he taught me unconditional love. And Bella Smith my granddaughter, may you always dance.

May GOD Bless us all

BLOOD IS THICKER THAN WATER

A special debt of gratitude to my healthcare providers at the Veterans Administration Hospital, without their compassion, innovations and advancements in medical sciences; I would not have been alive. And to the psychiatric and pain management professionals that helped me realize the ‘golden moments’ of family and humanity, mindfulness.

To Author House for their patience and courtesy.

TO DAUGHTERS OF THE EARTH

Forward:

From the warmth of the womb we are expelled into this existence of endless uncertainties and insecurity. Into a journey, which relentlessly compels us to search the great expanse beyond our fleshly boundaries.

In Willows Gate, Michael W Maynard leads us down a spiritual path that evokes every aspect of the human experience. The struggles of that journey we must take, known as ‘Life’.

Masterfully weaving both imagery and storytelling, Michael unfolds a story that will not only captivate your imagination, but will ignite your own inner voice into action. Searching for your own answers to life’s many mysteries.

Steve Free

Susan Sammons

*Steve Free is an accomplished songwriter and recording artist from southern Ohio, USA.

*Susan Sammons is an accomplished musician and poet.

www.stevefree.com

Chapter 1 ONCE UPON A TIME

1949: In the foothills of South Carolina, a shiny Ford truck travels down a narrow blacktop highway. Inside the truck cab, Eight-year-old Philip has his nose pressed against the glass of the passenger door as he gazes through the afternoon rain. He watches the clouds rise from the fire of multicolored leaves in the cold autumn air — smoke on the mountain spirits of long ago drifting from a forest ablaze with beauty.

Philip rolls the window down and leans outside. With his arms out-stretched, he imagines that he is flying above the road. His face tingles and burns in the piercing wind as he gasps for his breath; the damp evening air burns his nostrils.

Chester, Philip’s father, grabs him by the seat of his pants and pulls him inside the truck cab. Get in here, do ya want ta catch your death of cold? Roll that window up before ya get frost bit!

Philip rolls his window halfway up and stares toward the distant mountains as he twiddles his thumbs. He watches the sun touch the top of the Blue Ridge, and he knows that darkness will come quickly.

The young boy’s mind drifts to thoughts of church; he remembers the sweating boisterous preacher, red faced and slavering into the air, God made the day for man and the night for the creatures of darkness! Philip has always been afraid of the dark and wonders what this night will bring.

Chester makes a sharp left turn off the main highway. The truck thumps in and out of potholes as it surges through the tall grass that grows down the middle of this forgotten road.

They pass a sign that reads:

‘WARNING: YOU ARE LEAVING U.S.

GOVERNMENT TERRITORY’

Philip’s eyes widen with the expectation of danger.

At a crossroad in the woods, several Native American braves on horseback swarm out of nowhere. The screaming braves race ahead of them; horse hooves kick dirt and sod onto the hood and windshield of the truck.

Dust flies in through the top of Philip’s window from a pony that runs beside him; he smells its pungent sweat and its bittersweet breath. With his fist together, Philip imagines he is riding a racing pony; he grasps imaginary reins and bounces on the truck seat.

Soon, they are escorted to the outskirts of a field, where the braves scream and yell as they dismount on the run. In the distance, the United Indian Nation dances around a bonfire in traditional festive dress.

Chester parks beside the hitched horses and rolls down his window. He gets out of the truck, reaches through his open window and removes the ignition keys, then walks ahead.

Philip jumps out of the passenger’s side of the truck. Using both hands, he shuts the door and runs to catch-up with his father. Only when he takes hold of Chester’s hand does he feel safe.

Philip looks into the heavens; the orange sunset to the west and a full moon at the pentacle of its assent above them. On the opposite side of the horizon, in the lavender sky, between darkness and light, a lone hawk screams for its mate as it soars past a single shining star. Philip watches, as the shimmering hawk disappears into the dark abyss.

While Chester leads Philip toward the fire, festive excitement fills the air. Indigenous People graze from a banquet of agricultural harvest, roasted game and home made brew.

Chief Red Eagle, the spiritual leader stands. His regal features merge into his black shoulder length hair, which flows along the fringes of his white buckskin coat. Multicolored porcupine quills, inlayed on the coat sleeves enthrall Philip — abstract woodland creatures, in vibrant colors of red, green and blue.

Philip and Chester sit on a log near the Chief. Chief Red Eagle raises the ceremonial pipe, and leads his people in a solemn autumnal prayer. Grandfather, it is you that have brought us to this day and too this place. We pay homage to you, too the four winds of life and the wisdom that is given us. Mother earth has given us this harvest to provide for our soul. It is a good day.

As Philip watches the wood burn, he looks deep within the fire — white ash, yellow pine pops and crackles, exposing the searing hot coals of oak. Philip believes his father has taken him across time, to a place of long ago. He imagines that Chester and himself are the first white men to be among these Native Americans.

Philip turns to Chief Red Eagle. Bright orange light radiates from the Chief’ as a whirlwind of smoke blows around him; tassels of coal black hair abate from his face. With glowing eyes, Red Eagle looks into Philip’s soul. The magic Little One, you can smell it in the air.

Hypnotically, Philip turns his attention toward the fire again. Through the flickering flames, he sees a flurry of black and white feathers magically appearing and disappearing; a dancer is weaving in and out of the shadows — dancing between the worlds of darkness and light.

The dancer is Fighting Crow, the ten-year-old son of Red Eagle. Fighting Crow screams and dances around the fire then runs toward Philip. He stops short of Philip’s face, their nose almost touch. Fighting Crow’s eyes are surrounded by black and red paint — the fury of fire and smoke.

Philip is mesmerized; he sees a flash from the whites of Fighting Crow’s eyes, he can feel the warrior’s hot breath upon his face. ‘Did this boy come from the earth, and from the hot coals of oak?’ Philip’s heart beats in his throat; his tongue cleaves to the roof of his mouth, he does not move and his fear is mistaken for courage.

Fighting Crow screams and returns to the flames. He returns to the dance, returns to the dimension — to the world of shadow and light, fire and smoke, blood and earth. He becomes one with his ancestors in the metamorphosis of the dance.

Morning Star, a Native American Princess, the wife of Red Eagle, sits down between Red Eagle and Philip; she is cradling an infant girl in her arms. The baby looks up at Philip and smiles. Philip looks up at his father and smiles. Chester looks down upon his son and puts his arm around him.

Smoke and sparks from the bonfire ascend into the star-filled-sky. Philip believes the luminous moon is drawing everything upward. He wants to fly with the sparks, and closes his eyes; he imagines that he is flying skyward, arms outstretched.

On the way home, Philip lays the back of his head across Chester’s lap and falls asleep. Chester looks at his son and remembers the baby boy that he and his wife carried from the hospital.

Chester gently takes hold of Philip’s hand, ‘There was a time when your hand would barely fit around my thumb. And now take a look at how big you’ve grown, it won’t be long