Seventh Son

By Sephen Jack

Troy Denton wakes up in a hotel room in Huntington Beach, California with "Hypnotic Amnesia," not knowing who he is. His mirrored reflection is a stranger. He discovers he is to marry Isabella, a beautiful Gypsy girl. The Brides personal doctor states Troy's memory will return within two weeks, so the bride insist the wedding be held - stating invitations have been mailed and besides what better way for Troy's memory to return but while they are on their Honeymoon in Hawaii. During the wedding a mishap acquires and the bride and groom are separated. The brides family care for the bride but discard the Troy. With the help of two Surfer-Dudes Troy survives the ordeal and turns up at the wedding reception. There he meets his Grandmother-In-Law, Rosalee, the Queen of Gypsies. Hours later the couple are sitting in Paradise Air's lounge waiting to board their flight to the Hawaiian Islands when Isabelle's name is announced over the P.A. system. A phone call informs them that Rosalee has fallen ill and may not live through the night - and to come quick. The Honeymoon is canceled. Upon arrival at Grandmother's mansion they are informed the Grandmother requested she be taken to the family cabin east of Los Angeles. The couple arrive in time for things to go awry for the Troy Denton.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sephen Jack
• Release date: Oct 7, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463594285

Sephen Jack

Sephen Jack - Artist, Author, Beach Bum:I am the son of a half-breed Cherokee from an Oklahoma, Indian Reservation. At the age of eleven I was orphaned. In the mid-60's was a long-haired Southern California teenager, and came of age in 1966 during the summer of love. I stood on the corner of Haight & Ashbury, San Francisco and communed with My Generation - The Hippy Generation - Peace, Love, the let's Party Generation.The Vietnam War expanded and I became a soldier in the U.S.Army until a Military Chaplin gave me and 16 other soldiers our Last Rites - I was the sole survivor - that cut my military career a tad short. I stood shoulder to shoulder with Brave Heroes and I walked alone through the midst of killers and thieves.I started my career as an Artist when I was in the 6th grade selling my pencil drawings to classmates and teachers for ice cream money - I've been an Artist ever since. I've put pen to paper, paint to canvas, chisel to stone. I've sculpted clay-steel-and sand and captured images on film.As a story teller I have penned many stories - true and fiction. I have ventured only recently to allow others to read my stories. If you have read my stories I hope you enjoyed them.My Life Experiences:I've traveled around the world a few times and consider myself an Adventurer. I've surfed the waves off the shores of many nations, swam the clear blue water of the Red Sea, and piloted a plane up high in the wild blue yonder soaring like an eagle over California's Mojave Desert. I skied the snowy slopes of many mountains.I crossed the Arabian Desert with a group of Nomads, by jeep - not camel. I explored many old gold mines left by the 1849 Gold Rush: "There's gold in them there hills." I've also spelunker many natural caves under Earth's surface. I scuba-dove many coral reefs around the world and dove the Caribbean Ocean floor in search of sunken treasure. I para-sailed over a school of Hammerhead Sharks near Cancun (unintentionally-who would do that on purpose). I explored the interior of the Mayan Pyramids in Chichen Itza, Mexico. And scaled to the top of 'Vihara Nam Hai Kwan Se Im Pu Sa Buddhist Temple,' in West Java.I enjoyed dancing to wild music on the rooftops of Singapore and toured the Go-Go Bars of Soi Cowboy, Bangkok. During a dig in the deserted city near Tulum, Mexico I unearthed a Mayan Relic, along with a small red scorpion that was pinching my finger and striking my thumbnail again and again with its poisonous tail. I walked across the crust of Kīlauea Volcano, Hawaiian a few days before it erupted - the boiling steam rising from beneath the Earth's smoking crust melted the soles of my climbing shoes. I won a Regatta Sailing Competition off the coast of Paradise Island in the Bahamas and drank Bahama Mommas as Hurricane Bertha blew past.I have chased UFOs (but I've not caught one -- yet).I've thrown dice in Vegas, White Water Rafted in the Kern River. I drove Speedway Car No.55 around Bakersfield Speedway Race Track. I raced Dune Buggies over the sand dunes of Southern California. I've sold my art on the strand in Venice Beach, California, and created many mermaid sand sculpture on many sandy beaches around the world.As an Engineer, I worked on NASA's Space Shuttle at Edwards Air Base. I was a Project Engineer on the Portland, Oregon Nuclear Power Plant. The Quality Control Engineer on a Geothermal Power Plant on Gunung Salak (volcano), Java. and the Chief Engineer on Coal-Fired Power Plant supplying electrical power to the Batu Hijau Gold Mine Project in Sumbawa, Indonesia.I worked as a Bartender / Bouncer at the Kasbah Saloon, in Rock Springs, Wyoming at night and searched for "The Hole in the Wall Gang's" buried loot during the day.I am the Artist Beach Bum you saw walking in the surf wearing a Panama hat on his head, a flowered shirt on his back and surfer shorts on his butt.Presently I live on the island of Java, Indonesia at the edge of a rainforest on the west coastline of the Indian Ocean.

Book preview

SEVENTH SON

(a short story)

by: Sephen Jack

07 October 2019

Seventh Son

Distributed by Smashwords

Copyright 2019

Sephen Jack

All rights reserved

I do not know why anyone would want to

reproduce this story in any form, but if someone does,

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Any resemblance to persons, places, or things,

living, dead, undead, operating or having

operated, is purely coincidental.

Seventh Son

The constant buzzing of an alarm clock woke me. The irritating thing was sitting on an end table next to an unfamiliar bed. After I slapped the shit out of the thing a few times, it stopped making that god awful noise.

I looked around the room and asked myself, What the fuck?

Something was all wrong.

It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes’s keen observation to deduce that I was in a hotel room: The check-out notice on the back of the entry door and the DO NOT DISTURB tab hooked on the door handle was obvious giveaways. However, that did not answer my question, it only lead to another question. Like, what am I doing in a hotel room - alone?

I found the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face, and immediately knew something was not just wrong, something was seriously fucked up.

I didn’t recognize the reflection in the mirror.

Oh, Shit!

I don’t know who I am?

I can talk, I can walk, and I think I know right from wrong, but I do not know the name of the man in the mirror.

All of my ME memories are gone.

I wanted to scream, What the FUCK is going on?

There was a wallet sitting on the end-table next to that foul noisemaker. Inside was a California Drivers License, with a photo of the guy in the mirror. The name: Troy Denton. The name didn’t ring a bell. Apparently, I live in Huntington Beach, California. I did the numbers, and I am twenty-eight years old. There was an employee card for WWOil Engineering and Construction as well as several business cards listing Troy Denton, as a company representative for WWOil; still, no bells were ringing. There were three credit cards and two bank cards, all under the name, Troy Denton.

Okay, so, maybe my name is Troy Denton.

The watch on my left wrist was a black Casio; it was 6:07 AM.

I searched the room for a cell phone but came up empty-handed. The alarm clock was flashing 6:10.

First things first, where am I?

I flung the ceiling to floor curtains open and there before me was a beautiful deep blue ocean. It and the sky above were just waking up, as were most of the ten-million residents in the Los Angeles Basin.

The end-table also had a room service menu and a hard-wired telephone. I could call anyone in the whole wide world with that phone. I jerked the receiver off its cradle and pointed my index finger at the button pad – all ten-numbers were waiting for me to punch them. I hesitated, drawing a complete blank as to whom I should call. I went through the list of my choices:

WWOil - No, no, no, I don’t think I want my workplace to know I have a loose screw.

911 - would bring one or two police officers, or maybe some paramedics. I’m not injured, so I don’t think I need medical