Spirits in My Bedroom

By DAYLITE THOMPSON

Adultery, homosexuality, murder, lies, and deceit—it will take an act of forgiveness to release you from the pain someone causes you. This heart-throbbing story is based on actual events. Kyle is a young boy who wants to enjoy life as a child, but he can't because his childhood images of what a man is supposed to be have been shattered by the mental and physical abuse of his stepfather.

Growing up in a house full of debauchery, drugs, and stepmothers, Kyle believes he must sleep with as many women as he can to conquer his craving for women and his homosexual thoughts. Kyle took on the responsibility of raising his younger sister Mya in hopes of giving her a better life than what his stepfather provided for them, but Mya will have to deal with her own set of issues when she's caught in a love triangle with her high school sweetheart and a married man.

There comes a point in everyone's life where you will fall to your knees and ask for forgiveness, and Kyle and Mya must confront the pain of their past and the lust of their sheets, and learn how to forgive their trespassers. Spirits in My Bedroom is not just their story, but it's a story of how true forgiveness can change your life. Their story and others like it will empower you to deal with the difficulties of abuse, sex, drugs, and lies, while teaching the significance of forgiveness.

Matthew 6:14-15 says: "For if you forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you.  But     if you do not forgive men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.

• Language: English
• Publisher: EMPERIAL PUBLISHING
• Release date: Feb 16, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386347057

Book preview

Dedication

This book is dedicated to:

Pastor Christopher Joseph Whitsett (Papa)

October 19, 1964 - March 20, 2018

Thank you for your guidance.

I will carry on and make you proud.

Rest well. I love you.



To My Brother and Sisters,

Navada, Charlie, (Tiffany) Rodgy, and Dalerecia

You can’t get rid of me.

You all are stuck with me for life. (Lol)

You all support me no matter how crazy my dreams may seem, and I’ll always love you.

Our love can never be replaced.

I hope you all are proud of me.

Love you all, infinity times infinity.



To My Spiritual Mother, Mama Mary:

You have loved me like your own daughter.

You have been there to love me and scold me,

but in it all, you have imparted wisdom to me,

not in just what you say but in how you live.

Thank you for all you do.

I love you.

Acknowledgements

Thank You to my Lord and Savior for the ability to write and articulate the difficult situations in my life. Lord, I thank You for every negative situation You have allowed me to live through. Thank You for the ability to tell just a portion of my story in hopes of someone learning what true forgiveness is.

I would like to give a special thank you to Tonja The Shoe Lady Ayers, who inspired me and encourage me to become an author. We sat in your den, watching Spirits In My Bedroom, the stage production, and you said, I have one question: Where is the book? The conversation we had after that question motivated me to become an author and write my first book. It took what seemed to be years, but I finished it, and I thank you.

Thank you, Courtney Whitty. You’ve been with me from day one, when all I had was a vision. You helped me bring my first stage production to life and have been encouraging me ever since. I’ve watched you grow into a beautiful woman, The Diva, but remember, I am always big sister. (Smile) Love you to life, Court. We still are going to get our big office.

Pastor Christopher Whitsett (Papa): Thank you for the time you took for the book read. I know you drove a long way just to spend a few hours with me. Some things you can’t pay a person for, and friendship is one. Thank you for your friendship. Over the years, you and Kim have been such an inspiration in my life. We may not talk every day, but I’ve got your back, and I know you and Kim have mine. Love you both beyond life. Your input was priceless.

To my sister, Shonda Davis: You are such an encourager. Thank you for believing in me and my dreams; your input was valuable. I knew when I chose you for the read, you would be able to separate sisterhood and tell me if this was some garbage. (LOL) That’s why you had to be a part of the read.

Auntie Shirley: You were the first to read the first, first rough draft, and when said you liked it, I was so excited. You told me to clarify a few parts, and I went back and did just that. I hope you enjoy the final copy.

To My BEST FRIEND, Alisha Turner: We cry together, laugh together, and dream together. Thank you for REPEATEDLY telling me, GET IT DONE! Your friendship means so much to me.

Melissa Talbot: You are such an asset to everything you touch. I wish I could keep you all to myself, but the talent you possess could never be wasted on just one person. I thank God for meeting you.

To my son, Keith Wright, my Navy guy: Thank you for sharing your ideas, words of wisdom, and encouragement. You could have chosen to be anything in life, and you chose to be a son a mother can be proud of. I thank you for being one of the best sons I have.

To Tyrone Wright and Sheldon Boyer (my Marine): Your momma did it and I hope you all are proud. All of you are the greatest sons a mother could ask for.

To my family: Thank you for your support.

To my mother and father: Although you aren’t here to see your baby publish her first book, I know you both would have been proud. You’re always in my heart. Love you still and forever.

Again, thank You, God, for the ability to forgive.

Daylite

Spirits

In

My Bedroom

When The Bed Is Too Crowded

Introduction

Black boys are taught from a young age that they are supposed to be protectors. Protect your mother, protect your sister, and protect your family. When the father isn’t around, some boys are even told they are the man of the house. I’ve always heard older men telling us younger boys, The worst thing you can do is grow up to be a weak man. Real men work, real men provide, and real men don’t cry. I believe teaching a young boy that can cause him to grow up with an erroneous misconception of life because I now stand here as a grown man wondering when do I get my chance to cry.

As a boy, I was told, You need to be a man, boy. I never understood what that meant. I often sat in silence, wondering, ‘How do I be a man? How do men handle things? Outside of features, what does a man look like? How does a man talk? What does a man smell like? How does he walk? Does he give a firm handshake? Or does he give a firm handshake only to that man who appears to be weaker than he is?’ And the biggest question I stand here today and ask myself: ‘How do I teach my son how to be a man when I struggle with my own inconsistencies of being a man myself?’

I am twenty-six years old, and I’m still in search of someone to teach me what a man is, because since the age of twelve, I’ve struggled with trying to understand how the things I learned from my mother completely contradict the evil things I’ve seen as a man.

Society has deemed me a man because I was born a boy, and once you become a certain age, the world doesn’t care what you did or didn’t get in your childhood, they just look at you as you’re a grown man now. I attempt to function as a man every day, but I’m simply mimicking what I saw my best friend Gavin’s father accomplish as a man. Gavin’s father was my only example of what a man was supposed to look like. But, even in that, I still didn’t know what attributes to look for in a man after being left with the man who was supposed to raise me and teach me, but who did nothing but confuse me.

My mother taught me the good part of life, but she never prepared me for the vicissitudes that were sure to come my way. Growing up, it looked like men had all the answers because mothers would always say, Go ask your father. The man always worked and the man always got the big piece of chicken at dinner, so I grew up thinking men have all the answers and I made sure I became a know-it-all.

I finished high school, graduated college, and I work hard. I’ve made a good life for myself and I take care of my family, but my mind is trapped at the age of twelve. I am a damaged little boy, still sitting in his bedroom hurting. In society’s eyes, once you become a man, you just need to figure it out, and that leaves most grown men empty, searching for what they should have received growing up.

I guess the statement, It takes men longer to grow up, can be true because now I am a grown man who lacks direction, love, and self-respect, and I have truly lost my way. I have so many undisclosed secrets, hurts, and pains, and my life is full of indiscretions. I am the master of idiocy and I’m trapped by the perversions of my mind, but I hide behind the successes of my life because I don’t know how to confront this misrepresentation of a man that people see. I hate my falsified life. I’m a grown man who needs to cry because I’m bound by the Spirits In My Bedroom.

Chapter 1

Birthday Celebration

It was my big day, my birthday. I turned twelve years old, and normally, my mother would have to call me three or four times before I got up to get ready for school. But on this day, I was so excited, I woke up before my alarm went off, and by the time my mother called me, I was already dressed for school.

I ran downstairs to the kitchen, waiting for my mom and little sister Mya to yell, Happy Birthday!, but my mom was rushing to get Mya off to school and to not be late for work. They both forgot to say happy birthday to me. I thought this was very strange because my mom never forgot our birthdays, so I knew to expect a really big surprise when I got home from school.

Since my school wasn’t far and I had to be at school later than my sister, my mother usually left breakfast on the table for me and took my little sister Mya to school, but before we all left the house every day, my mother would bring us into the living room and pray for our protection, our safe return home, and that we had a good day. Mom would kiss me on the forehead, I’d give Mya a great big hug, eat my breakfast, and leave for school shortly after my mom and Mya left.

Because it was my birthday, my teacher, Mrs. Rain, had said she was bringing cupcakes for the whole class, and everyone would sing happy birthday to me. I couldn’t wait. I was one of the best students in the class and I got teased a lot because I was known as the teacher’s pet. I loved my teachers and they loved me, and I was determined to be the best at whatever I was going to be. If I was going to drive an ice cream truck, I was going to be the owner of the ice cream label sold on the truck. My mother made us feel that nothing was impossible for us. She always told Mya and me to reach for the stars and not to accept anything less than all of them.

When I got to school, all my classmates knew it was my birthday, so even while I was walking down the hallway, everyone was wishing me a happy birthday. For those who hadn’t known, I wore a birthday hat I had made for myself and they were wishing me a happy birthday as well. Nothing could ruin my day. I’d been looking forward to my twelfth birthday for months, and furthermore, I was looking forward to the surprise my mother was going to have for me when I got home.

At lunchtime, my teacher got everyone’s attention and everyone sang Happy Birthday and shared the cupcakes Mrs. Rain had brought in. It was my birthday, and of course, the day was all about me, so Mrs. Rain said I didn’t have to take the pop quiz she was giving that day. I got straight-A’s in her class, so I probably would have aced the test anyway. The other students didn’t get mad because I gave them the answers behind Mrs. Rain’s back.

We were in the last twenty minutes of class and I couldn’t wait to get home. My mother always made a big deal out of Mya’s and my birthdays, and I couldn’t wait to see what she had planned for me. I was sitting in class squirming, just waiting for the last bell to ring. At some point, it looked as if the clock had stopped moving. I anxiously awaited the clock to strike 3:05 p.m. and finally, it did. Ring! The bell rang and I had to be the first person to run out the school. I couldn’t wait to get home.

It was such a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the sky was clear, the birds were flying and chirping, and the air smelled of early summer