Into the Mystic Vol 1 & 2 of the Dream Weaver Series

By Traylor Grant

A stranger with a mysterious past creates chaos in every town he visits. He promises paradise to those who follow him. Is he a good person, a con man or a murderer? Sometimes heroes come in unlikely packages. Can Michael keep everyone safe? Is he a dangerous rebel, a hero?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cassandraparkerbooks
• Release date: Aug 17, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463095089

Traylor Grant

Traylor Grant writes Christian horror novels and short stories.Drop me a line at [e-mail]

Book preview

Prologue

A streak of light momentarily blotted out the pale glimmer of the stars and filled the void of night with an eerie glow of shimmering white light. The wild creatures gathered to witness this bewildering phenomenon. The reddish-orange ball peeked over the distant horizon until the east seemed to be on fire. From the brilliant blaze of the rising sun, he anticipated the coming of dawn.

Minutes seemed like hours as he watched and waited; finally it came, an explosion of light instantly filling the darkness of the past night. Lingering shadows quickly vanished as the sun slowly climbed into the sky and he knew his adopted home was just as beautiful as he remembered.

Having taken on a fresh luster, the foliage sparkled with a maze of glistening dew-drops in the first amber rays of the new day. The faint warbling of a multitude of birds loitered in the moist cool air of the California Mountains. He breathed deeply, exulting in the splendor of nature.

Once again, he had been sent to complete a task, a task that he has attempted to complete thousands of times before.

For now he felt as though he had come home. He loved the earth and all the creatures. It was good to be back.

Chapter One

In a quiet red brick house on the corner of Main Street, five-year-old Candy McGovern awakened with a puzzled expression on her sweet, round, face.

Mama! I saw a funny dream. She tugged on her white apron.

What’d you dream, honey?

A man, Mama. He did funny things.

Like what? The tall woman began to wash the breakfast dishes.

He made people dream and then he showed them strange places. He made dreams come true, and nobody believed him. Mama, don’t let nobody hurt him. Please? Her large blue eyes widened.

Don’t be silly, Candy. It was only a dream. He isn’t real. She looked sternly at her small blonde haired daughter as she wiped her hands on a red and white kitchen towel.

But, he is, Mama, and they’re going to hurt him!

Candy, her mother’s voice had an impatient ring that made Candy decide not to pursue the subject.

Can I go outside, now, Mama?

Yes. Stay in the yard. Her words were lost as the screen door banged shut.

The young man looked down the lonely stretch of highway at the town. A gentle breeze rustled the needles of the majestic pines. From the town came the sounds of screen doors banging, children screaming as they played tag, dishes being washed, a dog barking, music from radios, and all the usual noises of a typical June afternoon. He adjusted his backpack and brushed his dark hair out of his sea green eyes before starting his walk into town.

The lean young man strolled through the town to Hobson Park. He stopped in front of a green faded bench, slipped off his pack and put down his guitar case. As he sat, the bench squeaked noisily as if it had not been used in years. With ease, the handsome stranger opened the case and then swung the instrument onto his lap. He strummed a few chords. Soon he had a small crowd of children and teens around him.

Play another, pleaded a brown-eyed girl.

Okay.

Did you write those songs? a lanky boy asked as he leaned against a nearby birch tree.

Yep. his voice was pleasant, yet, it held a note of power.

Do they mean anything?

What do you think? he started playing another song. The melodies he played had a haunting quality and seemed to contain a message; a message that put the young people under his spell.

Okay kids, that’s all for now. Hey, does anyone know where I can stay until I get a job? A smile spread across his handsome face.

I do! The girl with brown eyes spoke up. You could go to the Greens. They have a room for rent, but I’m sure they’ll let you stay until you do get a job. Just tell them Liza sent you. They live at 1601 Sherman Drive.

Thank you, Liza. He smiled warmly at her.

The Greene’s house was a large, white colonial structure with a wide porch and a white picket fence around the yard.

Edna Greene opened the door and looked at the slim young man. Yes?

You have a room for rent?

It’s not much, just a bedroom and bath. We furnish the meals. We charge a hundred a week. Gerald Greene spoke from behind his wife.

I’d like to take the room, but I’d have to work out some arrangement to pay you until I get a job.

Do you have any references here in town? The old man reached up and scratched his snowy white hair.

No. Wait a minute. Liza told me to come here, if that’s any help.

Liza Norton? asked the old lady.

Yes’m.

Okay, we’ll let you stay here but we have a few restrictions. Gerald stuck his pipe into his mouth, The first is; no excessively loud music. We don’t want the neighbors to complain. he eyed the young man’s guitar case. Second, no women are to be entertained in your room. Third, illicit drugs are not allowed. You don’t do drugs, do you?

No sir, I’m against all that.

That’s good, right Edna? his bony hand rested on her arm.

Yes. C’mon in and I’ll show you to your room. By-the-way, I don’t believe we caught your name.

Michael, he gazed intently into the older man’s coal black eyes.

Michael, what?

Just Michael.

The room was on the left at the end of the hall on the second floor and overlooked the large backyard. Looking out the window, he could see where a garden was struggling to grow on the east side. He raised his hand and pointed to the plants. A streak of blue light engulfed them. Within seconds the leaves unfurled and the stalks stood upright. The brown hue of wilt turned into a healthy green.

The bathroom was to the right of the door. A desk faced the window near the bathroom. Along the far wall was a comfortable looking bed with a light green spread. Across the room and to the left of the bed a closet was built into the wall.

It’s perfect! I really appreciate this. Turning to face the elderly couple, he spoke somewhat hesitantly, Excuse me; I know you must be thinking about your son. Perhaps I can help you straighten him out.

The couple looked in astonishment at him. Their eyes asked the silent question, how did this stranger know about their son?

How’d you know about Adam?

Never mind about how I know that, Mrs. Greene. He gets out sometime tomorrow, I believe. I'm certain I can help him reach his true potential and turn his life around. I know he can stop his criminal activities, if he tries.

It’ll take a miracle to straighten him out. Edna sighed and wiped her hands on her apron.

He's rotten to the core, huh? Well, we’ll see. I think he can change. Michael carefully set his guitar case on the floor. Don't worry about him. He will be okay. He shrugged out of his backpack.

Chapter Two

That night Adam sat on his cot in the jail and cursed. He was angry at himself, his parents, and the entire world. Everyone did wrong by him. Exhausted he slipped under the blanket and fell asleep. Almost immediately he began to dream and he saw a man in jeans and T-shirt with long brown hair and sea green eyes beckoning him to follow. Those eyes seemed to pierce his soul. As he resisted the temptation to follow this mystical man, the being faded away. Soon after his disappearance, the cell Adam was in became filled with a strangely haunting song. As the song proceeded he was shown a magical place filled with beauty, a place in which everyone lived without hate. There was no crime, sickness, or war in this dream world.

Adam awakened from his sleep, yelling. He sprang from the cot and grabbed the bars of his cell. Take me with you! Don’t leave! Please, take me too! Sweat poured down his strong back as he shook and strained at the cell bars. A jailer rushed to his cell.

Adam, what’s wrong? Officer Hall asked his deep voice got through to the prisoner.

Oh, God! Adam pulled back on the bars and dropped his head onto his right arm. Please oh please. he sobbed.

He did not resist when the officer pulled him away from the bars and eased him back onto the cot.

Edna found Michael sitting in the darkness of his room, softy strumming his guitar and singing an old hymn. A series of alien vibrations seemed to issue from him; though the room was cloaked in darkness a strange glow filled the place.

Edna stood in the doorway for several minutes before speaking, Michael, what is that song? She turned the light on.

It’s just an old song.

It’s very good. Why don’t you come downstairs and sit with us? We’d like to hear some of your songs, if you don’t mind.

Sure.

Together they walked down the corridor, down the stairs and into the living room. Michael sat on a stool by the fireplace and watched the flames dancing merrily in the hearth. The Greene’s sat on black vinyl chairs across from him. A cool breeze from the open window twirled the flames in the hearth in eerie synchronization to the chords Michael played on his guitar. The firelight sprinkled shadows and light across his dark brown hair and face making him look both angelic and demonic.

He tilted his head slightly and continued to strum the guitar. The music swelled and burst forth from every corner of the room. His husky voice rang out as the words penetrated their hearts to pierce their souls.

As he sang, a vision of Adam walking in a flower covered field visited the elderly couple making them oblivious to the mist filling the room.

That was beautiful. It made me dream of a wonderful place, too bad it’s not true. Just think a place with no crime, hate, drugs, sickness, or hunger would be paradise. Edna sighed and folded her thin hands on her lap.

To think of a place full of peace, I wish we could see it. Gerald said with his eyes shut.

You can, if you follow me. Michael’s voice was barely more than a whisper. He and stood left the room. I’m tired, so I’ll say goodnight.

The morning sun shone brilliantly through the bedroom windows. The sounds of birds chirping, the scent of coffee, and bacon frying awakened Michael. He quickly dressed and went down to the kitchen.

Good morning, he greeted.

Good morning, Michael. Edna poured him a glass of orange juice. Would you like some coffee? She asked as she slid a plate in front of him.

Yes, please. No bacon or eggs for me, please. He smiled as she placed toast onto his plate.

Why? Edna turned to face him in surprise.

I don’t eat meat.

Oh, okay. What can I serve you?

The toast, juice, and coffee are fine, thank you. He smiled as he lifted the coffee mug to his lips and blew lightly on the hot liquid.

Adam gets out today, doesn’t he? He broke a piece of toast and chewed thoughtfully, looking closely at the look on their faces.

How did you know? Gerald asked guardedly.

Why?

You seem to know everything that’s going on in this family. How’d you know about Adam?

That’s simple, it’s in the paper.

As if not believing him, Gerald picked up the paper and flipped though it twice before he found the article. So, it is. I’m sorry.

Michael, why did you come to our town? Edna asked as she sipped her tea.

I’m here to right the world and offer something to everyone. He stopped talking and began drinking his coffee.

And? Edna prodded.

Nothing. He set his cup down, but kept his hands around it. You’ll learn soon enough. He kept his head bent and stared at the empty cup. I have to get going. Have to find a job.

Michael? she called out.

Yes?

Nothing. The small woman busied herself stacking the breakfast dishes in the washer.

Gerald, there’s something odd about Michael, she said when they were alone. Maybe not wrong, but different.

There’s something different here, that’s for sure. That boy is down right spooky. Where’d he come from; why hide his reason for being here? It’s not for a job offer, he said himself he’s looking for one.

And why did he refuse to give a last name? I tell you, Gerald, something is going to happen and I’m not at all sure the folks around here are going to like it. And there’s something else; something about last night that I can’t quite place. She untied her white apron and smoothed her dress.

Chapter Three

Michael ambled down Main Street with his hands in his pockets whistling, Best Day of My life by American Authors. He had lied to the Greenes about looking for a job and it bothered him.

As he passed the red brick house on the corner, Candy McGovern looked up from her sandbox. You’re here! She climbed out of the sandbox and ran to the green gate.

Michael swung open the gate and squatted, Well hello, Candy. His eyes sparkled with delight. What a pretty red and white dress you have on. He picked the giggling child up and twirled around on the balls of his feet. Her laughter was music to his ears.

I love you, Michael. She placed her fat little hands on his cheeks and gave him a big, wet kiss.

I’m glad, and I love you too. He returned her kiss and gave her a little squeeze. Candy, you do know what I’m doing here, don’t you? He held her at arms length and studied the now solemn face.

She nodded, making her blonde curls bounce. You are here for God's work.

Yes, I am and you also know that everyone must believe in me before I can take them to paradise, don’t you?

Yes. But oh Michael, the grown ups are going to hurt you. She scrunched her face and looked as if she was going to cry.

Don’t worry about that, honey. No one can hurt me.

Candy! Who are you? Judith McGovern came to the screen door. A blue bandana covered her short, auburn hair.

Mama, this is the man! He was in my dream yesterday.

Good morning, Mrs. McGovern. You have such a pretty little girl.

Thank you. I’m sorry she’s such a little liar. She looked at Candy, who was playing with Michael’s shoulder length hair.

She’s not a liar, imaginative, perceptive, and smart, but not a liar. I’m afraid I have to be going now, Candy. You be a good girl and I’ll see you later. He put her down.

The Mayor’s office was furnished ornately with a marble top desk set precisely in front of the windows offering a view of a small park and City Hall. Gil Thornton sat at his desk and reviewed a petition for street lights on Beach Street.

The secretary held open the door and ushered Michael inside. The Mayor looked up and decided immediately that he did not like the young man.

Sir, my name is Michael. I realize how busy you must be, so I’ll only take a few minutes. I’m here to ask for permission to give a free concert tonight in Hobson Park. I assure you there will be no drugs, alcohol, destruction of public property, or excessively loud music.

The crime rate always rises during these types of events.

How about if I promise you will see a drastic drop in the rate of crime by morning?

How would you do that? The Mayor looked at him with interest and skepticism.

I have methods. Do I have permission?

Drop by later today for the permits.

Thank you, sir, Michael turned to leave.

One moment. The Mayor looked at him.

Yes?

How do I know you’ll make good on your promise?

You don’t. He glanced over his shoulder at the Mayor and smiled as he headed toward the door.

He swiftly made his way to Liza Norton’s house. Together they arranged to rent a stage and chairs from her father’s hardware store. They bought poster boards and paint. After they made the signs, they distributed them in the various stores along Concord Street.

I know where you can get the microphones, a drum and drummer and an electric guitar. Liza shyly looked into his face.

That’s great! Where? He stared into her pretty eyes. The excitement in him was nearly bursting.

My brother plays the drums and works at Musicland. He can play any song. He’ll probably play for nothing and they’ll let you use the equipment just to get the publicity.

After making the arrangements, they agreed to meet at the park at six that night. Liza left Michael at the park and ran home to speak to her brother.

Michael headed toward the highway. He felt a stroll through the woods might help him straighten his mind and give him a clear view of what was expected of him and what would happen.

Silence ensued, broken only by the occasional twitter of a bird or the rustle of a leaf. He left the highway and climbed the steep, crooked trail. Majestic pines with their branches reaching skyward blotted out most of the sunlight, only a golden ray sneaked through to throw splotches of light on to the dark ground. Rounding a bend in trail, Michael came upon a yearling doe. Her eyes were large and sorrowful and she stepped lightly toward him and nuzzled his hand.

Hello, he whispered running his hands over her sleek brown body. Come to visit with me?

The doe ducked her head up and down as though she understood his words. Her white tail twitched not in nervousness but serenely.

You want to know what? Yes, it’s so good to be back home again.

The doe jumped a few steps ahead of him and looked, Want to play, do you? He laughed and gave chase. As they frolicked a raccoon joined them followed by a squirrel. One by one animals joined them, and a robin lighted on his finger. Then, as if on cue, man and animals wandered away.

I’m sorry you won’t be able to come to the concert, Michael set down his earthenware coffee cup.

So are we, but we have to be at the station to pick up Adam. Gerald folded the newspaper he had been reading and put his glasses into his shirt pocket.

Oh, yeah, he laughed, remembering the dream he had instilled in Adam. I don’t think you’ll need to worry about him anymore. I think he’s changed.

How long do you think the concert will last? Edna asked as she put on an old watch and wound it up.

Not later than eleven or midnight. His smile showed perfectly white teeth. Speaking of which, I’d better get going. It wouldn't be fair to leave Liza and Tom to do everything.

Chapter Four

He found Liza and her brother, Tom, arranging the equipment on the stage.

So this is Michael, Tom smiled and shook his hand.

Michael, this is my brother, Tom.

Hello. Michael looked at the park. You guys have been busy,

Liza has done nothing but talk about you since yesterday. I just had to see what all the fuss was about, he laughed.

Tom! Liza giggled and slapped at her brother.

We set up the stage. I hope everything meets with your approval.

It looks fine. Michael placed his hands on his hips and glanced quickly at the stage and then at the chairs on the lawn.

What songs do you plan to play?

You won’t know any of them. They are really old. Why don’t you just listen to the first few strands and then join in?

Okay.

Impatiently they waited. Gradually, people began to arrive. Most were young, but there were a few adults and senior citizens present.

The Mayor arrived with his entourage. Judith and Candy came a few minutes later. Candy looked at the Mayor and cried. She grabbed her mother and hid her face.

What’s wrong, sweetie?

Bad man. Bad man here. she cried.

Judith looked around but did not see anyone who would fit the description of a bad man. Shh. . . It’s okay. Let’s listen to the music your friend Michael is going to play.

Michael saw them and started toward them when he was called away for a microphone check. Candy’s reaction bothered him. Who was the bad man she referred to?

Liza, he clapped a hand on her shoulder. What kind of security do we have?

The cops sent a couple officers to keep watch. She set the stool on the stage, Are you expecting trouble?

I hope not.

Shortly after seven Michael jumped onto the stage and picked up the guitar. Hello! He shouted to the audience. My name is Michael. Glad you could join me tonight. He smiled and looked over the audience, seeking out those who might need convincing. I hope you enjoy the program tonight and find the music a transcending mystical experience. He started strumming the guitar softly, the volume increasing as he sang.

To some he looked like a throw back to the hippies of the 1960’s with his long brown hair, sneakers, faded and patched jeans, multi-colored tee shirt, and denim jacket.

To the teens he looked like a rebel hero out to fight the world, and to the children he was the weaver of dreams; The Dream Weaver. Yet, the elderly saw him as religious singing old time hymns.

His long, slender fingers scarcely moved as he strummed song after song. His voice started out soft and gentle and grew in power and volume as the song drew to an end. The music sounded timeless as though from another period, another planet and had a soothing effect on the crowd. Tom hit the drums with a slow steady rhythm that added to the unearthliness of the music. Liza joined in with a harmonica.

Somewhere the sun is shining and songbirds are repining, his voice rang out crystal clear. I dreamt of judgment morning with trumpets blowing. He closed his eyes and felt the power building like a gathering storm. Blue sparks twirled from where his fingers met the guitar strings and snaked their way from the stage to the audience.

Judith closed her eyes and saw a dirt road winding through the forest. At the end of the road was a wooden gate. She opened the gate and stepped into the driveway. It wound through gardens of fruit trees, vegetable plots, and violet, red, orange, yellow, and blue flowers. The drive gave way to a pristine white house. Michael stood in the open door and beckoned, Come in. All are welcome here.

Judith hesitated and looked around her. Her heart pounded with fear.

You will not be hurt. You are welcome here, but you must choose. You have free will and only you can decide to come in.

The mayor glanced around at the audience. Quite a crowd showed up. I hope you assigned some officers for control, he said to the police chief standing next to him.

I did. The man rubbed his hand along his temple. I need an aspirin. These concerts always give me a headache.

Do you call this music or noise? The mayor asked, and yawned. He shook his head and peered at the ground.

Something wrong? The police chief asked as he glanced at his radio.

I thought I saw a snake in the grass, He lifted his foot and looked around. A dozen snakes coiled under where his shoe had been and then faded into nothing. I’d swear these songs are the road to hell.

Hey, now Mayor, this is just music.

The chief looked out across the park and back toward town. His hand flew to his mouth. The town was in flames. Buildings were charred and crumbling while flames licked skyward. He shook his head and looked again. Everything was back to normal. What was in the aspirin?

What's that? the Mayor asked.

Nothing, he mumbled.

Two police officers stood along the perimeter taking in the music and watching for trouble. Officer Carter leaned against a lamp post and tapped his foot. A smile crept across his face. He's pretty decent, don't you think Kyle?

Really, Carter? I hear a lot of sounds. Not sure I like them. Officer Kyle stared at the man on stage. He saw what looked like a knight in battle armor, dented and rusted.

Hour after hour Michael played and the audience listened enraptured. All too soon, the concert came to an end. Long after the crowd left the three of them sat on the stage.

Wow. Liza sighed.

Michael cocked his head toward her as he continued to strum his guitar. What?

That was wonderful.

Never heard or played anything like that before. Tom said, looking at his hands. Dude, it was like my hands were in motion but someone else was playing the music.

Michael just smiled