No Hope: The Black Sheep: Book One

By Jennifer Shavers

In my last period class, I sat staring at the clock as if I had mind control over it. Its as if time came to a grinding halt. Finally the clocks hand clicked onto the appropriate hour and the bell rang, signaling the day was over. I got home and waited outside on the steps for my mother to come home from work. I needed encouragement, I needed a hug, I needed to tell her what happened. The car pulled into the carport as the sun was setting. I thought, finally she has arrived! I hopped off the steps and trotted over to her. As she walked toward me, I noticed her arms were folded over her chest and there was a scorned look on her face that read she was in no mood to deal with my petty issues. Whenever my mother arrived home, she would leave the car door or trunk open if there were items to be carried into the house. I spoke as I ran pass her to grab the bags. Partially out of breath, I described the details of my day as I kept in stride with her fast-paced walk. My mom told me to stop feeling sorry for myself as she emptied the bag of groceries onto the kitchen counter. She continued to say, there are a lot of kids out there that dont have half the benefits I did. Children in Africa would kill to have a roof over their head and food on their plate. How would you know what the children in Africa wanted? I thought in my head. I failed to see the relevance.

It was as if someone ignited a fire or flipped a switch inside me. My very soul was being consumed with anger. Flames of self-loathing burned inside my belly, and my stomach ached badly. Deep down I knew it wouldnt be okay ever and my existence seemed ridiculous now. Waves of regret and sorrow crashed down on me all at once. My mothers comment turned the seething embers of hopelessness into full-fledged flames. I retreated to my bedroom to scrawl these intense thoughts in my diary that does not judge or disappoint.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 7, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503563643

Jennifer Shavers

Meet Jennifer Shavers. Jennifer was born in Bunnell, well-known as the county seat for Flagler County, one of the oldest communities along the east coast of Florida. A traditional Florida farm community that was small but successful in raising sugar cane, corn, sweet potatoes, cucumbers, and hay. Jennifer carried the spirit and pride of her hometown roots with her to Central Florida, where she grew up in the vibrant city of Orlando, where she was offered a combination of cultural and economic possibilities. She quickly leaped at the opportunity to attend a Florida college where she earned an associate’s degree in the legal field. While also being the mother of six children, she continued on with her education to acquire a bachelor’s degree in the management industry. Jennifer worked several years in prominent Central Florida law firms as a paralegal, legal assistant, and claims adjuster, where she would sharpen her writing and researching skills. Having been drawn to the arts and cultural events, museums, and attractions, Jennifer made Orlando her home, where she attends church with her family. She now enjoys traveling, spending time with friends and family, and telling a good story. As young as eight years old, she took flurries of words from head to paper. She began writing in her diary. Within a few short years, she stockpiled several shoe boxes full of diaries and journals. She called these her treasures. When looking back over her work, she developed the idea to create a collection of short stories and poetry based on actual events. Her passion for writing grew. She then decided to pursue her writing, quit her job, and begin to travel and share her experiences with others. Her goal is to become an ambassador for hope from psychological and mental devastation through the knowledge and understanding of our divine destiny and the role others play in our lives to bring us to our divine appointment. She inspires to empower women and make a difference. She has now embarked on her writing career to publish her first novel, “No Hope: The Black Sheep,” of hope and healing. This is Jennifer's first novel, republished.

Book preview

Copyright © 2015 by Jennifer Shavers.

ISBN:      Softcover         978-1-5035-6365-0

                eBook              978-1-5035-6364-3

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

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Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Scripture quotations marked NIV are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of HYPERLINK "http://www.zondervan.com/ Zondervan. All rights reserved. [HYPERLINK http://www.biblica.com/niv/" Biblica]

Rev. date: 08/06/2015

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Dedication

Inspired by Jaquada Lee, who showed me the importance of connecting with God in a personal and profound way. From her book Faith on Fire, Jaquada challenged me to make a sober commitment to follow God’s plan for my life.

I thank God for allowing me to be obedient enough to be led by spirit and walk in the vision. Obedience is the proof of trust. To God I give the glory and thank you for making my life matter to you.

I thank Pastor Brian Lucas of New Life Point Ministries. If not for Brian, I would still be walking in the reality of my own thinking.

Most of all, I give a special thanks to Faye bailey-Lucas for teaching me how to unlock my faith. If not for Faye, I would have not given God a chance to work with my faith.

Jennifer Shavers

Life is a hell of a thing to happen to a person.

–David Rossi

Contents

Dedication

Quote by David Rossi

[1]   Spiritual Attacks

[2]   No One Was Coming For Me

[3]   Perfect Pickings For Perverts

[4]   I Was Literally Heartsick

[5]   An Abnormal Mental State

[6]   Getting A Grip On Reality

[7]   Dreams And Visions

[8]   The Memories Don’t Fade

[9]   Who Am I And What Have I Become

[10]   Deliverance

Analog

Acknowledgments

About The Author

Character

Spiritual Attacks

1

Hope was the older of Beth Rodgers two daughters. She describe vivid accounts I how she has been under spiritual attack for as long as she could remember. And the supernatural devastation that has plagued her life. She battled rejection and criticism from children her own age and separation anxiety of her mother. There is a huge stigma in the black community that no one wants to talk about. In the old days’ of the 1960s, ’50s, and ’40s, pregnant teenagers were pariahs, banished from schools, ostracized by their peers or scurried out of town to give birth in secret. Following the early 1970s, a new expectations formed and social norms were readjusted and the shotgun marriages declined. When asked about being separated from her mother, Hope said, we lose not only our loved one; we also lose our sense of self. Although hesitant, Hope didn’t mind sharing her story.

Hope took in a deep breath as she dropped shoulders and her head. Staring at the floor in a low monotonous voice she went on to say, My life was filled with catastrophic warfare from the beginning. The scowl look on her face indicated a sad or unpleasant event. She continued, I’m not referring to global warfare, I am talking about disastrous life events. Night times, were the worst. At times, I would get paralyzed in my sleep and could not move. Countless times, while sleeping, my body would be flung from the bed to the floor. I recall a particular instance, I lay thrashing around on the floor unable to get up. I knew I was asleep but I could not wake up or pick myself up from the floor. I could only lay there feeling utter terror. I just laid on the floor in the dark next to my bed, scanning the room with my eyes. Some objects appeared as images and shadows and peculiarly appearing objects again. And with a fulminant hypnotic jerk, I was awake again and able to move my limbs. Left only feeling drowsy and with a dazed sensation. Many cultures have developed supernatural explanations for sleep paralysis. In Africa, it’s called the witch riding your back. My grandma, Lillian, use to say the old folks said the devil be ridding you when that happens.

I have experienced occurrences when I falsely believed I had awaken from a terrifying lucid dream, only to open my eyes soon to realize I was still asleep. I would tell myself to open my eyes or pray, just to get caught in another false awakening. This would often go on for quite a while until I heard some sort of loud noise which made me become aware of my actual surroundings. Often, still not fully awaken, I would slip in and out of unconsciousness. Usually waking to the sound of a door slam, baby crying or someone calling my name.

One of the scarier experiences was when I was so frighten, I began to act out my dream. I had gotten out of my bed, put on my slippers and unlocked the latch on the window. It wasn’t until I felt the winter breeze lift my nightgown that I woke up to find myself climbing out of my bedroom window.

And then there was the time I went to bed after getting angry. I was unable to sleep due to the anger I had built up inside. I felt a leery auspicious presence in the bedroom even as I slept. I tossed and turned. Finally turning onto my back I opened my eyes to stare at the ceiling in the dark as I had done many times before. The bathroom door was slightly cracked open which caused a dim light to cast from the window. In the steam of light, I saw a haunting figure! Even in dim light, the male figure was unmistakable. There at the bottom of my bed, a man dressed in an old black suit, wearing a black hat stood at least 7 feet tall. I sprang up in my bed starring face to face with this entity. I knew this ‘thing’ was not human because his eyes glowed whiter than any eyes I had ever seen before. As a matter of fact, I had never seen eyes glowed in the dark. The expression on his face was an unforgettable one. He glared at me with an infinity of anger. I not only saw the anger on his face but I could feel the anger wailed up inside him, and it was directed at me. And he definitely wanted me to know it. To ensure I wasn’t asleep, I tried to scream but nothing came out. My mind was racing and my heart was beating so hard, I could feel it outside my chest. I continued to try to scream. It was all surreal. My head felt heavy. My body felt heavy. My eyelids were heavy. A voice in my head told me I had to fight harder and I must scream. I chanted in my head, scream, scream, scream, until finally I let out the loudest scream I could muster up with my eyes non-moving and fixed on the man in black. I could hear the footsteps coming down the hallway toward my bedroom. As they approached, the figure began to literally erase before my eyes. The disappearing started from his lower torso and continued upward until nothing remained except its head. There was no longer a body or suit, just a floating head with a mincing expression on its face. The door must have been stuck because, they pounded on the door. I rarely locked the door. Just as the door knob began to turn, the head faded. After getting the door open, the eyes which were the last thing to disappear, quickly vanished. I kept my eyes fixed on him not turning away for a second. Even after it vanished, I continued to stare at the area where he stood. As long as I live, I will never forget that I saw the face of pure hatred and anger manifested itself in my bedroom that night.