The Land of Hugh

By W. T. Lewis

The Land of Hugh, is a Spiritual Journey of a 10 year old boy struggling to free his family from the grip of their own minds illusions. Along the way he meets teachers, guides and new friends that help him realize who and what he really is as a child of the Creator. As he travels through mystical lands always moving closer to his own ultimate truth, he experiences, challenges that drag him through his childhood forcing him to face his fears, find unconditional love and discover Spiritual Truths that change his perspective and shatters the illusions and passions of his mind. Taking this journey with Hugh allows the reader to question his own traditional values and beliefs in ways that positively enhance their own thoughts and attitude toward lifes incredible journey to our Source . Mr. Lewiss intent is for each of us to discover our own truth and then discover Soul.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Apr 25, 2018
• ISBN: 9781504399036

W. T. Lewis

W.T LEWIS, has taken a lifetime to present this moving adventure to the public. Mostly because it has so many events that come from his own life's journey. Some of it is inspired by his truth and some on others, but as Mr. Lewis says, "Even out of fantasy truth is found" Mr. Lewis has worn many hats in this life, went to College for a brief time was drafted into the Army, raised his family, built his business, and faced all the challenges of living just as each of us do. He has been a key speaker at several Spiritual conventions and now he wears the hat of being a writer. Is he qualified? He seems to think so, his story of The Land of Hugh is of profound truths wrapped in an adventure that flows like Siddartha, peppered with the whimsy of Tom Sawyer and the adventure of Harry Potter. Mr. Lewis has created a life that challenges the mundane reality that we as Humans accept as real and from this life he tells the story that began when he was an Army soldier during the Viet Nam war, Mr. Lewis saw the madness of war and from this phase of his life he became interested in Spiritual events, past, present and for him Future. The challenge of The Land of Hugh, is for each reader to find their own truth within this story of a young boy's Spiritual awakening and the struggle to save his family.

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Copyright © 2018 W.T. LEWIS.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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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.

The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

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

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Scripture quotations marked KJV are from the Holy Bible, King James Version (Authorized Version). First published in 1611. Quoted from the KJV Classic Reference Bible, Copyright © 1983 by The Zondervan Corporation.

ISBN: 978-1-5043-9902-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5043-9904-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5043-9903-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018904639

Balboa Press rev. date: 04/24/2018

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter 1 ~ Bristol

Chapter 2 ~ Collision

Chapter 3 ~ A Family Lost

Chapter 4 ~ The Journey Begins

Chapter 5 ~ The Dream

Chapter 6 ~ The First Realm

Chapter 7 ~ The Council

Chapter 8 ~ A Time To Grow

Chapter 9 ~ Sermon Under The Tree

Chapter 10 ~ New Friends

Chapter 11 ~ The Path Of The Warrior

Chapter 12 ~ The Door Opens

Chapter 13 ~ The Wisdom Pool

Chapter 14 ~ The Power

Chapter 15 ~ A Choice

Chapter 16 ~ The Cleansing

Chapter 17 ~ The Bridge

Chapter 18 ~ My Father’s Battle

Chapter 19 ~ Hugh’s Unexpected Challenge

Chapter 20 ~ Finding A Friend

Chapter 21 ~ The Guardian

Chapter 22 ~ The Order Of Dreams

Chapter 23 ~ The Secret Way

Chapter 24 ~ Another Land

Chapter 25 ~ Medical Jeopardy

Chapter 26 ~ Prison Of Fear

Chapter 27 ~ Escape From The Mountain Cave

Chapter 28 ~ Jotan’s Prophecy

Chapter 29 ~ The Twain Shall Meet

Chapter 30 ~ A New Point Of View

Chapter 31 ~ A Decisive Moment

Chapter 32 ~ The Depth Of Command

Chapter 33 ~ Brandon’s Decision

Chapter 34 ~ It Begins

Chapter 35 ~ Discovery

Chapter 36 ~ Paradise Lost

Chapter 37 ~ The Mind Of God

Chapter 38 ~ The Mountain Of Light

Chapter 39 ~ Worlds Collide

Chapter 40 ~ Journey Of No Return

Chapter 41 ~ Melody’s Secret

Chapter 42 ~ Seas Of Danger

Chapter 43 ~ The Call Of Soul

Chapter 44 ~ Dream Master

Chapter 45 ~ Vengeance Is Mine!

Chapter 46 ~ Charters Of Freedom

Chapter 47 ~ No Man Is An Island

Chapter 48 ~ To Be True To Oneself

Chapter 49 ~ To Leave Or Not To Leave

Afterword

Dedication to those who Inspire

To my Family, Colene, Billy and Melody for inspiring my life in so many ways that they cannot know.

To Nicole, for bringing into this world my Grandsons Mathew, Jacob and Trevor, who reminded me of what it is to be a child again.

And also to Cynthia Humes, for taking a struggling writer and painting his words into a Spiritual work of Art. Her understanding of the story concepts was uncanny. She also inspired me by her expertise in taking my words and almost mystically transforming them into a spiritual articulation, which reflected my entire intent and purpose for the Land of Hugh.

—W.T. Lewis

For most people, the truth is a lie, and the lie is truth.

In trying to create from love, mankind confuses it with desire, and so fails miserably; I then make manifest your desires in the energy of your expectations—but not necessarily always with the desired effect, for that is inflected by man’s own lack of faith and wisdom. Man provides the energy, feeling, and form, and I choose the matter in how it is used according to one’s limited beliefs.

Mankind gladly gives his wealth, greed, adoration, fear and power to his adversaries and leaders, and then viciously murders his Saints, Saviors, Redeemers, and Divine Teachers. The list is endless.

Never forget, Hugh! This is humankind’s legacy, and is mostly due to their ignorance of divine wisdom and weak discipline. By not using these two attributes, man allows me to create endless temptations to surround and infect their lives. Humankind does not yet realize that all creation in this universe is from his or her own power; until they do, this power will flow through the mind and be subject to mankind’s conscious will, which is nothing more than desire!

—Abaddon to Hugh

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PROLOGUE

Most of us have the ability to trace our lives and see how we have created the personalities we believe are us. This us-personality reflects perfectly the sum total of everything we experience. Hugh’s journey is based on this truth.

A few may see this journey as fantasy; some may see a simple thoughtful story or perhaps a guide, while to others it may encourage their own quest for truth. However this story reveals itself to each of you, we must be aware that even out of fantasy, truth is discovered.

Hugh’s family, his friends, and even his adversaries contribute to a deeper understanding of his incredible journey, a journey that reveals questions and answers concerning the deepest secrets of Soul. The questions asked have preoccupied humankind since man and woman first looked to the stars in search of their Creator. The answers are timeless truths revealed through a boy’s journey to save his family.

From this timeless journey of Soul, the eternal quest is revealed to those who are ready to take a step further in their own growth. Time and time again, Hugh awakens to his own personal understanding of life’s meaning. As you journey with Hugh, you will participate in a young boy’s spiritual awakening as he learns life’s universal purpose through the eyes of a child—an open and fresh perspective that most of us lose over time. Throughout his journey, he discovers the divine magic that allows us to experience being something more than we once thought we were, and that open mindedness and compassion when combined with knowingness, truly allows mankind to learn that the only true miracle in life is a changed consciousness. Keep your mind and heart free, and you may be nudged to reconsider traditional values of your own reality.

So as I write, I dream. I dream of helping ignite the eternal spark hidden within each and every one of us, and possibly reintroduce the reader To Soul.

W. T. Lewis

2 Corinthians 12.2: I knew a man in Christ above fourteen years ago, (whether in the body, I cannot tell; or whether out of the body, I cannot tell: God knoweth;) such an one caught up to the third heaven.

To those of us who seek truth within

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CHAPTER 1 ~ BRISTOL

Gray clouds drift through morning light while dissipating mists hover above lush meadows. Slowly, the township of Bristol awakens.

The Baptist church in our town square with its white steeple reflects serenely on the surface of Amity Pond, partially shaded by assorted pine, cherry, maple, and dogwoods. Next to the church lies the common ground where a small road weaves like a snake crawl through Bridge Park, then blends onto Main Street where roads and side streets spread like spider webs weaving our lives and homes together in the quaint hamlet town.

Bristol, like a lot of east coast small towns, has that special feature that makes it like a big family—it doesn’t take long to find yourself becoming charmed and acquainted with the folk in this New England township. A mile from the town center a small road veers to the right. A marker partially hidden by weeds reads Dogwood Circle.

Sugar maples on both sides of this quiet country road intricately intertwine with dogwoods, forming a cathedral of limbs, flowers, and leaves. Morning light breaks in golden shafts near a bend on the road; a house sits on a small hill surrounded by azaleas and willows. This is me family’s home, and this is where our story begins as it happened to me.

*************************

Since I was four I’ve spoken with a stutter.

It started before me family moved from Ireland to America. Me parents—Ann and Clark Bailey—and I were vacationing in Scotland at some underground caves and I wandered off and lost me way. While searching for me parents, I went deeper and deeper in the caves until I was hopelessly lost. I was told later a search party was sent to find me, but for about four hours I was on my own. While wandering in the darkness I remember stumbling upon a colony of bats. Startled by me intruding on ’em, bats started flying in every direction, striking me head and landing on me clothes and even getting caught up in me hair.

I don’t remember much after that, but between the bats flying, the rats and spiders crawling all in the darkness, I was pretty scared.

I was finally found huddled against a crevice in the cave too frightened to say anything or move, and for several days, I didn’t speak at all.

When finally I did speak, I stuttered.

The stammering combined with me Irish dialect and New England mix makes it difficult enough sometimes for people trying to understand what I’m saying. I don’t care all that much, but for sure I’m shy and a tad introverted, preferring to keep to me self a bit…it’s odd though, the only time I don’t stammer is when I’m singing, or in me dreams.

Sunlight flickers across me bedroom wall as I’m trying to remember the dream I’m just waking from; I crawl deeper under the covers, protecting me from morning chill and glare of reality. Footsteps clattering on the hardwood floor in the hall makes me emerge from my cocoon, and as I do the bright sun evaporates me memory of the dream…Mum’s voice abruptly interrupts and wakens me thoughts. Hugh…you awake? Wake up, boy—breakfast is cooking! I’m ignoring her, hoping she’ll go away…and then she knocks louder on the door.

Hugh! Get yourself up before breakfast gets cold!

I bury meself deeper in me pillow, trying to ignore the intrusion: just five minutes more is all I’m asking. Snuggling further in me bed I’m thinking about last night playing video games and watching old horror shows with me mate Billy. Billy had to be home before midnight, so I ended up watching the last horror movie alone.

Delicious smells of French toast and bacon float in my room beckoning me to crawl out from under warm coverins’. Pulling on me shirt, jeans, and shoes I look in the mirror and catch a glimmer of light reflecting in me green eyes, flexing a muscle on my skinny arm then pulling me cap over light brown shaggy hair I stagger half asleep into the den. Mum and me younger sister Melody have already set up TV trays; before sitting down I mumble to me mum, B-br-breakfast in fr-front of the tele. H-ho—ow come?

Wiping her small hands on the apron around her waist, she’s staring at me with a glare in her Irish green eyes, her red hair bristles from morning wake up.

Well, good morning to you, too, and just where’s your cheery greeting manners? Still a little sleepy, I slump into me chair and say a little clearer and louder, Morning, Mum. B-bu-but why th-the TV trays?

Tis Dagwood and Blondie movies from the 1940s that’s a’ playing this morning and you know how much Da’ likes watching ’em; now grab a tray and take your cap off afore you eat, I’ll have your plate in a smidge.

I like the old movies, too; even for a ten-year-old like me they are simple compared to modern tele. Life, laughter, and just plain living seemed to be a lot easier to come by back then.

Smells of breakfast cooking are making me even hungrier, and I complain, Mum, I’m j-u jus-tt about starving!

Just then me Da’ walks in. Bending his lanky body, he kisses Mom on the cheek while tickling her small waist, Morning to you, darling, how are you? Yum, something smells good.

Mom’s giggling and squirming as he continues tickling. Da’ always knows how to make Mom smile even when she’s getting a little frustrated. I’m just fine and dandy, now don’t tickle. C’mon, Clark, stop it. If ya’ don’t, I’ll just drop your plate, for sure. Putting the plate on his tray, she puts her arms around Da’s shoulders. We’re eating in front of the tele this morning, so would ya’ mind to be sitting down?

Da’ takes a glass of orange juice and sits in his favorite chair. What’s the occasion?

Before anyone can answer, we hear a scratching at the door. Melody jumps up a-shouting, I’ll get it! As the door opens a flash of pale yellow fur almost matching Melody’s blonde hair slides across the wooden floor then rushes straight to the den. I’m suddenly staring into the face of our large Labrador, Cody; tilting his head slightly to the left his face is asking Where’s me breakfast? He knows what he wants, and in most cases how to get it; he’s expecting French toast and bacon like the rest of us.

I pass his bowl around saying, Okay, o-kaay, let’s all g-gi-give Cody a li-t-little. Everyone shares a wee portion, the tele’s turned on and we begin breakfast.

I’m almost through eating when there’s a knock at the door; me mate Billy comes in. I completely forgot that today we’re supposed to find a tree to build our tree house.

Billy sits on the couch and watches the end of the show with us. Then grabbing me cap, we run outside chasing each other up a path leading behind our property. Cody comes a’running from the bushes to join us. Invigorating smells from the countryside ignite our senses, filling us with a fearless innocence and awareness of life. Running deeper into the woods we catch our breath when we stop to wait a bit, watching Cody smell a tree, chase a squirrel, and then begin to leave his mark on a favorite bush. While we were waiting for Cody to finish his business, Billy asks, Hey, how did the river monster die in that old movie last night?

Thinking back last night to the old black and white movie, I replied with a sly smile, Like a-all m-m-monsters b-being…st-stu-pid, doing something dumb…then getting wa-wasted w-without kno-knowing wh-what a dumb thing it did.

Billy picked up a stick and threw it for Cody. I got home just before my dad got mad, so I did right by leaving before it was over.

I start running again, at the same time shouting, At-ttt least you were s-s-sm-marter than th-the mo-m-monsteeeeer!

We hear Cody barking in the distance, so we take off toward the noise. Billy tries to outrun me, but I get to Cody first. Cody’s barking like crazy at a patch of meadow grass, and then I hear a movement. A deer springs from the tall grass and runs off, then leaps an ole stack fence by the meadow before he swiftly disappears. Encouraged by me standing behind him, Cody gives chase. Billy runs up alongside me; I notice he’s staring at the tree the deer stood under before running off. Taking a few steps toward the tree, I whisper to Billy, Ch-check out th-the treeeee!

Like me, he’s just staring, and then he says, Dang…it’s old! Look how thick the trunk is and those roots are like the arms of an octopus!

He’s right, the huge sugar maple is old—really, really old. Thick, long lower limbs are reaching about five feet from the ground, higher branches snake to the sky reaching maybe a hundred feet or more then spreading out like a canopy creating shadows on the trees below; it’s freaking enormous.

I say as much to meself as to Billy, H-how co-cou-uld we h-haave m-m-missed seeing this tree before?

Billy grabs one of the lower limbs, and then pulling himself up, he replies, I don’t know, but this is the tree—so let’s climb! Being heavier than me, Billy struggles to get to the top limbs, which are growing in a pattern that’s allowing us an easy and fast climb. I’m like a skinny monkey quickly passing Billy.

I’m halfway up when I come to a crisscross of large limbs that’s weaving a wide flat spot across the middle section of the tree. I yell down to Billy, This is brilliant! W-wait u-u-until Da’ sees this!

Just then, sunlight breaks through the clouds. Tiny arrows of gold light pierce the interior creating scattered shafts of light that are bouncing and twinkling against resting dewdrops; smaller branches dance to gentle breezes while blue skies peek between higher branches. Climbing deeper into the interior of the tree I discover a dense area of limbs providing the perfect perch; a squirrel sitting above me starts a’chattering while his tail’s thumping, probably telling me to stop all the noise. Billy hollers out from below, Hey! Come on down! Let’s get some rope and build a swing.

Small limbs, dead twigs, dried cattails, and wet meadow grass slap our faces and arms as we run from the woods and deeper into the meadow—the meadow grass is thick and more dew drops splash against our flushed faces. As we leave the woods behind, I’m talking as we are running. We’ll n-nee-eed s-sm-small boards for a-at-attaching the rope for us to c-c-climb.

Billy speeds up his running and replying at the same time; Aw, don’t worry about boards. Let’s get the rope up and make sure it reaches the ground. Within minutes, we are running up to Billy’s garage.

Amidst all the hanging tools, ladders, and other junk are two coils of rope hanging in the corner. Climbing up on the counter, Billy grabs one coil and tosses it to me. He next picks out a jar of nails and a hammer, and then jumps down. Satisfied with our goods, we go running back to the tree, all the while trying to talk between heavy breaths. Running and trying to talk at the same time with me stammer is so impossible even I can’t understand me own words. Cody gets to the tree first with us right behind; how did he know where we were going? I don’t know how, but he did.

In seconds, Billy is already above me in the tree. Holding one end of the rope, he’s dropping the other end to me. I pull meself to the lower branches and the rope drops into me hands; I dangle it about three feet from the ground: it’s perfect! Climbing down, Billy’s red hair blazes from streaks of sunlight striking his head; grabbing the rope, he swings to the ground Tarzan-fashion. It works perfect! We found our tree!

After supper, I’m sitting with me Da’ on the front porch showing him plans I drew of the tree house. After looking at ’em for a few minutes, he stands up and walks to the porch railing, his thin frame almost disappearing behind post shadows. Looking at the plans again, he sits next to me and says, Son, these are good, they are, but where you gonna build it, lad?

Da’, you ca-an’t believe b-bu-but we found a huge old tr- treeee past th-the meadow! Ya’ go-gotta see it-it for yourself.

Da’ hands back me drawings and says, I’ll tell you what, lad, when morning comes, for sure we’ll go see this tree. I barely sleep that night as me mind’s constantly thinking of the giant maple.

Next morning, Billy, Cody, Da’ and me are off to the woods, and soon enough we are approaching the tree. Da’ stops for a moment and stares. Taking off his cap, he’s scratching his thinning brown hair and then says, Never have I seen such a tree as this! It’s perfect, tis a grand tree for your tree house and if you want, I’ll help ya’ to build it. That afternoon we drive to the hardware store in Amity to buy materials needed to start.

Days are passing and building the tree house becomes the center of all the free time me, Billy, and Da’ can squeeze from our schedules. By the time school’s out, we are halfway finished—and by the second week of summer, it’s nearly completed—and by the middle of July, it’s done! With help from me Da’, it’s more than any of us hoped or imagined.

Built on four limbs thirty feet from the ground, a rope ladder drops through the center floor. We used what Da’ calls pressure treated two by fours for the framing and two by sixes for the rafters and flooring. Plywood covers the sides and floor joists; the hole in the floor allows us to climb directly through the middle.

A large open window with a tarp covering allows a direct view into the heart of the tree. At least five boys can fit comfortable, plus an old couch we hauled up. It’s freaking beautiful, and I can’t wait for our first sleepover.

*************************

Flashlights, fishing poles, a gas lantern, drinks, snacks and some comics are stacked in the corner. Me mates Paul and Matt are freaking at the size of the tree and even more amazed by the tree house. One by one each of us climbs through the hole in the floor; it’s like entering another world, a world mixing with our imagination and our own reality. The tree has its own smells, its own primitive roughness, and its own views; the large open window is giving way to endless branches cascading out into the approaching darkness. We imagine alien creatures peering at us from the branches—it seems a perfectly mysterious night for a sleepover.

Da’ built the windowsill wide and low enough to sit on so we could watch the sky or look into the heart of the tree; for sure, it’s the best sitting in the whole tree. So while me mates prepare their bedding, I’m sitting and watching as the sun slowly sinks and the last bit of light fades into darkness. Twilight is filling gaps between leaves, as birds are fluttering to their branches settling in for the night.

After unrolling the sleeping bags and leaning the fishing poles against the opposite wall, the tree house takes on a warm cozy feeling. Grabbing our flashlights we are pushing and shoving each other almost fighting to get to the window first. Directing the flashlights into the tree’s interior a different world reveals itself; our intrusive beams light up limbs flickering in the leaves. Birds have stopped their chattering and gone to sleep, while darkness awakens us to its mysteries leaving us wondering. Limbs reach out into blackness, disappearing into empty pockets of space.

Billy comes over to the window and leaning over to me, he whispers, It’s sure quiet at night. One of the flashlights points upward about twenty feet, and two small round discs of lights flash back in the darkness.

I put me light directly into the staring eyes, and softly squeak, Look a-at th-thaat.

What?

Up th-there where I’m pointing. Yoo-you sees i-it?

I don’t see nothing.

There—wh-wh-ere the tw-oo branches sp-split.

A large barn owl twists its head, staring unblinking at us down below. I see it, it’s a big un. The owl slowly lifts its wings and drops, Matt shrieks and ducks back into the tree house; the owl turns and glides right in front of us.

Billy leans out the window and says, What’s the matter, Matt? Afraid the big ole owl is gonna getcha?

It’s not funny. I thought it was headed through the window.

Awwww, it p-p-pro-b-bably s-sa-saw…a mouse or s-so-something.

Well, it was scary stuff; wonder if anything else might be out there? Matt, the smallest of us, looks out the window again, then ducking his head back, he dives on his sleeping bag. A few minutes later a bat cuts across the top of the tree. We didn’t know it then, but we eventually learned that at night the tree comes alive: creatures moving silently through its branches; bugs a’quivering and humming; leaves rustling; and the tree itself creaking against its own weight.

Pulling the lantern from me bag, I begin pumping gas into the wick while Billy’s sorting out Twinkies, plastic tubes of chips, and a bag of chocolate cups so we can eat. Munching and drinking sodas and trying to see which one of us can make the most noise while eating, our chewing sounds are almost blocking out the whispering noises from the darkness. I grab comics from the corner and throw ’em in the middle of the floor. After a few arguments it’s decided we’ll read from me own horror comic, Dark Shadow.

Paul begins reading first.

From boy to boy the story is unfolding; our imaginations come alive, while at the same time we are cringing at every sound out of the darkness. When it’s my turn, I look at each boy one by one as I read. Silent k-k-killers stalk th-the wo-woods, searching for v-victims foolish e-enough t-to be out a-a-lone, no one w-wa-was safe from the mo-m-monster’s b-bl-bloooood lust! Me mates listen with eyes wide as the story unfolds in their minds. Each is lost in his imagination; me stammering somehow makes the story even scarier.

Just as I’m getting to the scariest part, a loud crash rattles the tree house.

Matt yells out, What the hell’s that? Then he’s pulling his sleeping bag over his head. Even I feel the hair on me arms rise. Looking around at each other, no one’s daring to speak, when suddenly, another even louder crash shakes the tree! Something big is colliding with the rear wall; no one says anything as I quickly drag the lantern closer to us. Crowding together against the far wall, a sudden unearthly scream penetrates the darkness. Something or someone wails, the tree house shakes again, and yet another heavy crash rattles the roof, and then all hell breaks loose! It’s as if a bunch of banshees are screaming and yelling while attacking our fort. Matt’s screaming again now and yelling, Stop it! Stop it! from inside his sleeping bag.

Paul yells at him to shut up, and then all becomes eerily silent except the sound of our breathing. We’re searching around us; whatever landed on the roof is now silent. Imagining a werewolf like in the comic, we are certain it’s crawling on the roof ready to spring; Matt points out of his sleeping bag with a single shaky finger at the rope ladder in the center of the tree. It moved!

I can’t believe it! Then it moves again!

The rope is jerking and bouncing back and forth…something’s climbing up the ladder! Heavy breathing is heard. No one moves; flesh is crawling on me arms; the breathing is closer seeming to be in the room with us. Billy pulls something from his pack, and then looking at us he puts his finger to his lips and whispers, Shh! He leans over the hole in the floor, and drops something over the edge. All is quiet for a few seconds when suddenly a wild scream explodes in the darkness and the rope goes slack. We hear a loud voice cursing, and then quickly it begins fading into the night.

A huge grin is on Billy’s face; his red hair and large freckles are highlighted by lantern light, and his eyes were glowing playfully. He lifts a plastic bag for us to see and says, Don’t know who or what’s out there, but whatever it is, it didn’t like what I dropped on top of it.

What is it? Paul whispers. Billy holds the empty bag higher and closer to the light.

He reads aloud: Shultz Liquid fertilizer.

Whatever was coming up the rope got a face full, he said, it’s for my mom’s potted plants; I brought it for a prank, just in case we needed it.

Brilliant! I gotta admit I’m impressed, Billy was thinking way ahead of any of us. Slapping him on the shoulder, I say, Th-that was some ssm-smart t-th-think-i-ing.

We’re laughing so hard we forget for a moment something or someone tried coming into the tree house. Matt whispers loudly from still inside his bag. I wonder who it was that was out there.

Billy nudges the sleeping bag with his foot and says, Who said it was a...who?

Paul then steps over to Matt’s sleeping bag while looking at us with an evil grin, and then pointing to the bag. Um…don’t worry about it, Matt… We all exchange looks and then look again down at Matt’s sleeping bag. We’re all thinking the same thing; at the same time we all jump on Matt’s bag with him inside, wrestling and grabbing at him for a few minutes.

After a while we take a rest and then Paul says, Let’s get some sleep—we gotta get up early. Still wondering what or who attacked us, we crawl into our sleeping bags. Lantern light casts a soft orange glow in the tree as we talk for a while before going to sleep.

I lay quietly thinking me thoughts, wondering over the night’s events as sounds from the woods fade…soon there was only silence. Listening for any remaining night sounds, I notice a familiar high-pitch ringing in me ears. I listen more closely; me concentrating on the sound makes the ringing even louder as though it’s coming from inside of me. I’m feeling the sound as much as I’m hearing it. Listening closer, the ringing grows more intense, and then it shifts abruptly, seeming to be ringing all around—even vibrating inside of me—then it changes again, getting higher.

I’ve been hearing this sound throughout me whole life—mostly at night when I’m alone in bed just thinking or listening. I always wonder what it is; sometimes I think it sounds like buzzing bees or mosquitoes. Doctors on the tele say if you’re hearing sounds, then you must have tinnitus—ringing in the ears—but this isn’t the same. These sounds are clear and have a rhythm. I’ve always liked the rhythm. It’s comfortable, almost familiar.

The sound abruptly shifts again, sounding more like a humming sound, like the noise the refrigerator makes, and then the tone gets louder. The vibrating feeling has more power tonight than ever before, and as I’m listening, I fall asleep.

As I sleep, I dream.

I’m watching meself on a path walking through a thicket of trees. The path is leading into a forest and I sense for sure I’m searching for something: what it is, I don’t know. The twisting and turning path is leaving me with a feeling that what I’m looking for is just around the next bend, but it never is. At a steep dip in the path, a rustling from the woods gets me attention; the bushes separate and a movement catches me eye. A young man appears from the shadows wearing a dark green cloak with a hood. A glimmering translucent light radiates around him and dark blonde hair peeks out from his hood. The young man approaches within a few feet, then he stops and stares deeply into me eyes. Feeling the intensity of his stare, I feel strange—it’s as if he’s probing or searching someplace deep inside me. Keeping his eyes locked on mine, he steps even closer and then his hood falls away; his eyes shine like fire! He pulls a sword from behind his back and then holds it in front of him. Instantly, I’m overwhelmed with a powerful fragrance of jasmine and sandalwood. I know these smells well, because me mum always burns incense with these aromas. The warrior pauses, and the familiar smells are releasing sensations within me; great feelings of happiness and a wondrous sense of freedom burst inside of me. The young man says nothing…something queer is happening to me. He continues staring as if he’s trying to tell me something; then slowly, in a soft but brilliant light, he begins fading…and then he’s gone.

I hear a faint whistling, sorta like flutes; the sounds are following the fading light and the exciting feelings in me blend into warm surges of energy that’s rushing through me, leaving the most profound feeling of joy and peace I’ve ever known.

I’m alone again and still dreaming. I’m sitting on the window ledge in the tree house, a mystical copy of the original. Gazing into the intense starry night, for a moment I’m free, free’er than anything I can ever remember. Turning to look at me mates, I see the four of us in our bags sleeping. I sit staring…at the same time, I’m confused. How can I be sleeping over there when I’m sitting here on the window ledge? Suddenly, I’m back in my sleeping bag.

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I open me eyes, and for a moment I don’t know where I am or even who I am—it’s confusing. I look around; it’s almost morning outside. Faint sounds of a high single note flute still rings in me ears.

Powerful feelings of excitement and wonder are flowing through me. Sitting up, I hear the other boys breathing. What could the dream have meant? I feel I should know the young warrior, but that’s impossible! How could I know him? I’m sure the dream was trying to tell me or warn me of something. It was like the warrior was trying to steer me from something bad, and at the same time, the vivid dream awakened something deep inside me, something I haven’t felt before…something real and powerful and something so wonderful. Seeing me own self sleeping kinda freaked me out, but for now I think I’ll keep this—the dream, the message, whatever it was—me own secret.

The other guys are waking up; we grab our fishing gear and set off to Amity Pond. Climbing down the tree, we see large chunks of watermelon strewn about. Paul exclaims, I bet that’s what we heard slamming against the walls last night!

Well, duh. I just wonder who it was, Matt replies.

With a shrug, Billy mumbles again, Maybe not who, but what.

Morning goes quickly. Fishing is good, but we release our catch back into the pond; no one wants to scale or eat them: the fun is in catching and releasing. Toward late morning it’s getting time to go home. Matt and Paul live in the opposite direction of me home and as they turn to go, Paul calls out, Last night was really cool; can we do it again?

You be-bet! Ma-maybe ne-next-we-we-eeeeek, I’ll check.

Billy and I cut through the woods back to the tree house. After getting me gear and saying goodbye I start back home. Walking into the meadow, I see Cody’s running from the other side to greet me, but before he gets to the middle of the meadow, the big buck we had seen before reappears from out of the edge of shadows—it stands like a statue at the edge of the forest, watching us.

At the sight of the deer, Cody freezes and stares back; I also stop and stare. The buck takes a step forward, then leaps and swiftly crosses the meadow—in a flash, he’s gone. I continue staring for a moment and then say, C’mon boy, l-let’s go home.

The sound of the screen door slamming is almost drowned out by me yelling, I’m ho-home—hello? Is a-an-anyone heeeere?

No answer; we are home alone. Cody curls up on the den floor and falls asleep while I go to me room to change. Falling down on me bed, I can’t think of anything but the weird feelings about seeing me body sleeping while I was sitting on the window ledge, still dreaming. And then there’s the young warrior with the brilliant eyes…

CHAPTER 2 ~ COLLISION

A few days after the sleepover, Mum and Da’ decide where we’re going for our vacation. After a whole lot of talking, they decide on a Caribbean cruise. None of us have ever been on a ship before and the cruise is for ten days. We leave in two weeks—first, we got to fly to Florida, and from there we board the ship.

During the next two weeks, I spend most of me time at the tree house. I’m treasuring being alone while watching life unfold within me new world.

At times I fall asleep or daydream what it’s like being a bird, or being a squirrel leaping from limb to limb. Life is slower here in our tree, and my mind often gets quiet just from the simplicity around me—these quiet times offer moments to wonder at the meaning of life and what I might become when I grow up.

Sometimes I just practice on me guitar or try thinking of words for a song; I love music. No matter what, though, I’m always thinking of the powerful dream I had that first night in the tree house. From this tree I freely create a world from me imagination…a world of magic, discovering, and mystery.

Melody sometimes comes to the tree house with her cat Namo; she also loves the quiet beauty of the giant tree and woods. Da’s been here a few times and together we’d be talking and enjoying new discoveries in the tree. He seems to relax when he’s here; these are the times that bring us closer than ever. Time spent with me Da’ is something I really love. It makes me realize what me family means to me, not only as a whole family, but each as an individual.

The morning before our vacation starts, I wake up excited. Mom’s up early gathering, packing, and making sure last-minute details are being taken care of. Melody’s friend Judy will be taking care of Namo while Billy’s watching Cody. Tomorrow we leave for Florida!

Walking into the kitchen, I see Mom’s brewing some coffee. I reach into the cupboard and grab a box of Cap’n Crunch for breakfast. Pouring it in me bowl, I ask, Mum, can I go t-to-to the t-t-tree-hoo-use after breakfast? Mom’s quiet for a moment. Then turning to me, she says, You can go only if ya’ take me with you. I stop pouring cereal into me bowl and stare at her. She’s never asked to see the tree house before. Finishing pouring me cereal I say, Grr-ea-attt! But you better ch-chaa-ange, as we’ll be wa-walking through the m-mea-meadow to-tooooo get there. She smiles, gives me a tight hug and says, Tis be only a few moments to change into some jeans and me tennies.

Practically inhaling me cereal, I finish and put the bowl in the sink just as Mom returns.

Walking down the deck stairs leading from the kitchen, Cody comes running to see what’s going on. He’s jumping in circles when he sees me and Mom walking toward the meadow. Racing ahead of us, his head is high as he sniffs at the wet morning air; the excitement of having Mom with us makes him act like a puppy.

Entering the meadow, Mom gradually slows her walking and then finally stops. She stares across the tall grass that’s sparkling with morning light. Flowers and small trees dot the dew-covered meadow gradually merging with the pine forest. The smells are intoxicating as we walk deeper into the grass. Neither of us says much; our thoughts are absorbed in trying to identify each new scent and reacting to the pitter patter of the chirping birds and buzzing insects. Deep, thick grass folds beneath our feet as we go further into the meadow. Morning sunlight bounces off thousands of dewdrops sparkling like diamonds. Looking up just in time, we see a gray fox spring from behind a large bush and dash through the meadow, running behind her are three kits. Mom’s staring at the fox and her kits as they reach the edge of the meadow; the vixen looks back as if inviting us to come closer into her domain, Cody takes off after them and then…they are gone.

As we go deeper into the woods, Mom spins around, she’s walking backwards and swinging her arms almost like dancing, and at that moment it seems as if she’s a young girl again. She’s looking at me and then says, How striking that fox was—I don’t think I’ve ever seen one as beautiful and majestic.

I-I th-th-think she lives a-a-around the e-ed-edge of the wo-oo-woods.

Walking toward the end of the meadow where the fox disappeared, we enter a shaded glen. Smells of moss and pine are flooding our senses; a small stream gurgles as water splashes over small rocks to the right of us, adding to the peaceful ambience. Light streams through the tall pines while shimmering over a shadowed carpet of green moss covering rocks and fallen tree limbs. Looking over at me, Mum asks, How’re ya’ feeling about entering into junior high in the fall?

I pick up a rock and throw it at nothing.

I h -have many f-f-fee-li-lings about it, but mo-more than any-th-thing else, I feel ne-nervous about how di-dif-different I’m told it’ll beeeeee…

Tis for sure, Hugh, you know life is about change, nothing stays the same, that’s how we grow in spirit. Looking up from the path we are walking, I know she’s trying to tell me about changes in me own life, such as feelings and me body. Feeling shy I nod, at the same time I’m thinking how life’s taking a big step for me, a step that’s going to be asking for me to take more responsibility for me thoughts and for the actions created from those thoughts. Mum reaches for me hand and we walk together into the clearing where the huge tree stands in shattered sunlight. Shafts of light pierce through a gray mist surrounding the tree; tips of tall limbs and upper leaves appear almost faded against the foggy sky. Looking up, we both are staring at the flowing limbs interlacing and forming a wide canopy. A ladder Da’ built is leaning against the tree, making it easier climbing than the rope. Mom climbs slowly and mindfully, being careful as she takes each step higher into the thick folds of leaves and limbs. When she’s entering the tree house, I’m right behind her.

Quickly I run over to the far wall. M-Mom, lo-l-look at this! Proudly, I lift the canvas covering the window, which opens the view into the heart of the tree.

Stepping closer to the window, Mum stares into the massive interior of the tree; she takes a deep breath, the tree’s inner world opens as in a vision. Vast tangles of limbs and leaves are winding first upward and out, and then crossing each other creating a living cave. Cardinals, jays, and chickadees hop and flutter from limb to limb, each singing—or in the case of the jays, squawking—their own special songs. Squirrels race around larger limbs, chasing each other in their morning play; shafts of light move on every breeze that’s wafting through the branches; dew shimmers on wet leaves. Pieces of blue sky peek between limbs that bend in rhythm with the morning breezes. Butterflies, with their myriad colors, flitter gently from one limb to another. The spectacle of abundant life and vibrant color together create a scene like a fairy glen; all the life this tree shelters now accepts the tree house as part of their reality.

Mum continues staring in wonder at the beauty unfolding from the window, without turning, she softly whispers, I had no idea tis be so lovely.

Kicking off me shoes, I sit on the windowsill. Leaning against the frame I cross me arms over my chest and say, I’m glad you came today Mom, I-I’ve re-rea-lly come to-to love this p-place and I’m h-hap-happiest when I-I’m h-heeeere. Mum can’t take her eyes from the beauty unfolding in front of her; tears glisten in her eyes as she realizes—like me—what a precious gift this tree is to our family for sharing, enjoying, and loving together.

Ann Bailey doesn’t have many happy moments in her life, not because they aren’t there, but because she either ignores them or she just can’t see how precious ordinary moments are. While growing up, she lived with parents who fought constantly and eventually divorced. Her mother remarried a man who was cruel and abusive to Ann and her siblings. This abuse caused the children to grow up fast while simultaneously losing faith and trust in other people. Ann’s a good mother and a loving person, but there are moments when she still feels like a victim, and those are the times when she needs to be alone. Ann tries, but she can’t forgive and forget; she therefore struggles constantly to create her future from her past, but the results leave her present partially shaded in sadness. This lack of trust in others makes life miserable at times, and combined with the culture shock of leaving Ireland, a deep and dark expanse has created emotional dark areas within her. For the most part she tries to hide from the darkness, but attachments to her past are so deeply rooted that even her supportive family can’t help her to let them go. Doctors prescribed drugs for depression, discussed a bi-polar disorder, and treated her for other forms of possible mental problems, but nothing seems to work for long, so the family learns to live with it the best they can. The upcoming cruise is hopefully going to allow her to pay attention to something other than herself, perhaps providing a temporary escape.

Noticing his Mom’s pleasure as she stares into the tree, Hugh’s thinking about this almost magical moment he is having with his mom when he says, I’ll n-nev-never…forget this m-mo-mor-morning, Mom. I didn’t kn-know until n-noow how happy this place ma-kkes pe-people feel.

For this moment it is as if they are both children and best friends at the same time, laughing and talking about things never discussed before. The midmorning sun creeps overhead; by and by, it’s time to head home.

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Walking back toward the house, Hugh thinks how his mom’s looking through different eyes at him. She seems to have grown today, and so has he; she understands him in new ways, just like Hugh sees his mother in different ways, too.

Arriving at the house, Mum asks if I have me things packed and ready for the vacation. I go check one more time to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything. I’m going through me suitcase when she walks in and asks if I need any help. I think I-I have e-ev-everything—all the clothes I-I’ll need, a few books, my bi-bin-binocu-lars and spare shoes. What else do I ne-neeeed?

We’re going to stop in Cozumel—have ya’ packed your mask and flippers? There’s great diving and snorkeling there.

I hadn’t thought about the swimming, so I go to the closet to find me diving equipment. The flippers are tucked away in the corner where I left them. I feel for the diving mask and it’s also exactly where I left it. I’m about to pack the mask when I see a crack in the faceplate; it’s small, but for sure it will allow water to leak in.

Darn, Mom, it-it’s cracked! Wh-what am I g-gonna d-d-do now?

Calmly she walks over, takes the mask, and examines it. Well, tis for sure ya’ can’t be using this, so we’ll have to run down to the mall and get a new one. Let’s go right now and get back before Da’ comes home.

Climbing into the minivan, I buckle up and ask Mom, The old maa-ssk is just a-a toy, can I g-get a p-p-profess-sio-nal mask like in the ma-ma-magazines?

I don’t see why not; let’s see what we can find. She pulls out of the driveway and heads down Dogwood Circle toward town.

Driving down the quiet country road, I’m thinking about the kind of mask to get when Mom pulls out on Main Street past the town square. She’s likely still thinking about the tree house and all the beauty she had seen this morning; tis for sure they were wonderful feelings of peace we felt. Approaching the main thruway into Bristol, I’m thinking how Mom’s so happy and content—maybe she’s thinking the world might be a nice place to live in after all.

Ann Bailey’s thoughts are on her family.

She’s realizing how much she has to be thankful for, especially with the vacation just a day away. Such thoughts of gratitude run through her mind as she pulls out on to the highway. The vehicle behind her doesn’t slow down as it changes lanes; neither Hugh nor his mom sees the truck as it comes hurtling down upon them.

There’s a loud horrific crash, and Hugh hears his mother’s scream, sees a brilliant flash of light, and then his consciousness withdraws into darkness.

CHAPTER 3 ~ A FAMILY LOST

When the call came informing him of the accident, Clark’s world plunged into hell; it’s two in the morning now, and he’s been home for just an hour; he and Melody had been at the hospital the entire day.

Staring into the dimly lit fire, Clark’s thoughts race through his mind while flames flicker within dying embers…firelight casts shadows against bare walls. A thin, dark-haired man in his late thirties sits alone with his head in his hands. Aloud, he asks some age old questions. Why, God? Why us? How could this happen? Why would you allow such a terrible thing to come into our lives? I can’t see any reason for this. What kind of God does this?

Doctors worked feverishly for hours on both Ann and Hugh; their injuries are extensive and both are in a deep coma. The surgeon explained to Clark that due to the seriousness of the injuries, their brains have shut down certain areas to block the pain and trauma. So far, both have survived the injuries, but now their bodies are barely even responding to touch. Ann suffers severe head wounds and internal injuries, as well as a broken pelvis, leg and shoulder.

Hugh also suffered head injuries, though not as extensive as his mother’s; his arm is broken along with minor internal injuries. Given the type of injuries Hugh sustained, the doctors are puzzled why he has not regained consciousness. Clark spent the day and most of the night waiting to hear whether the operations would save their lives. Finally, the nurse told him there was nothing he could do and he might as well go home and get some rest.

Staring into the fire, Clark has never felt as helpless as he does now. Melody fell asleep while they drove home and is now in bed. Clark’s exhausted, but still can’t sleep; today they were supposed to fly to Florida to meet the ship for their long-planned vacation. A stream of thoughts keeps him from sleep.

Why? I just don’t understand God. Me family is everything and now they’re gone. For years, Annie and I have struggled to build a life for our family, both carrying the load together. Now to suddenly have it all vanish within a few moments makes no sense. How could life do this to us?

They aren’t bad people! He believes in God! He tries to do right with his business and his family: how can he go on without Annie and Hugh? How will he take care of Melody and explain this to her?

He suddenly feels so incomplete.

Cody lies in front of the low fire, his gentle eyes locked on his master. He senses something is different. He feels his master’s sadness, but all he can do is stay at his side and give him unconditional love, as is his nature. Throwing a few logs on the fire, Clark sits back, reaches for a faded photograph of his family from the end table, and slowly begins to nod, eventually letting the peaceful arms of sleep take him into its unknown world, thereby escaping for a short time the torment life has plunged him into.

The faded photograph rests on his chest.

A soft touch to his shoulder wakens him. It is already late morning as Melody kneels by her father’s side, looking for answers only he can provide, answers that to a child’s collapsing world are difficult to come by. Reaching out, Clark pulls her close. Somehow he needs to go deep within and find the strength to hold her world together.

Da’, are Mommy and Hugh going to be okay?

Clark thinks for a minute before answering, and then he says, Ah, lass, the doctors for sure have done a wonderful job with the both of them, tis now in God’s hands; we have to have faith, so try to keep good thoughts darling think of us all being together again. Tis the best medicine we have to give them and ourselves. Leaning her head against her daddy’s chest she silently thinks about what life has done to her world. She can’t really understand life without Mom and Hugh—it’s something that simply doesn’t register in her eight-year-old mind. She knows her mom and Hugh are in great danger. She feels they need Dad and her now more than anything else in the world.

Within the protective shield of her youth, the understanding of the sadness and pain she feels associates itself with not having her mother and brother at home, but for now, she rests her body and mind in the arms of her dad.

Walking the sanitized halls of the hospital, echoes of their steps ring in his ears; suffering and fear hang like a dark shadow as Clark and daughter get closer to his wife and son’s room. Glancing at strangers without names lying ill behind glass panes Clark tries to ignore the images, but can’t help wonder Why? Why all this sorrow, this suffering, this pain? This living in fear is it so necessary or are we just going through life in vain? Not knowing what to expect the prospect of death settles like a graveyard mist over their minds and hearts causing both to see the world as surreal or a terrible dream.

Having received special permission for Ann and Hugh to share a room rather than sending Hugh to the juvenile wing made walking into their room like a nightmare times two.

Wrapped in bandages almost head to foot, Ann lay as in death, yet she’s alive. Bandaged but not as extensively, Hugh lies motionless in a bed separated by white curtains. The darkest part of what’s happening is seeing all the tubes and lifelines penetrating their bodies as they lie in deathly silence. Sitting next to Ann, Clark gently takes her hand; she’s so strong in her love, and now so must he be, not only for his daughter but also for his wife and son. His love has always been strong but now comes the intense test of his deepest strength. Melody takes Hugh’s hand as her father has with her mom and holds it gently but firmly.

The door swings open and a doctor enters. The doctor walks over to Ann’s bed to examine some equipment, and after writing some notes on the chart at the end of the bed, he looks tenderly at Clark holding Ann’s hand, and after glancing over at the young girl holding the boy’s hand, he feels compelled to interrupt and say something. Mr. Bailey? I’m Dr. Orvitz. I’m your wife and son’s treating physician.

Still staring at his wife, Clark asks, What’s to become of me family? Are they ever going to be with us again?

The doctor’s silent for a moment, then moving closer to Ann’s bed he bends forward, looking directly at Clark over the rim of his glasses he gently asks, Do you mind if I sit here with you for a while? Setting the clipboard down, Dr. Orvitz pulls a chair up and sits across from Clark. He touches Ann’s wrist, pauses, then slowly shakes his head, and says, We don’t really understand or appreciate all the workings of the mind, Mr. Bailey. Even with all our high tech equipment and knowledge, we still can’t explain the miracle of the human spirit.

The doctor smiles hopefully. I’ve seen cases that defy all known medicine and logic, which we as doctors are supposed to know; yes, your wife has suffered a traumatic shock along with serious injuries. But the fact that she’s even alive is a compliment to her spirit. I suppose the final outcome is in the hands of the Creator—or maybe in the hands of her own spirit. The body for the most part repairs itself, but I can’t tell you much about the mind—it remains mostly an enigma. As for the boy—I’m puzzled. He suffered injuries, but none of which should have sent him into a coma like this. Besides his broken arm and a mild concussion, he suffered some internal injuries that we have already repaired. He should have regained consciousness by now.

Dr. Orvitz tweaks some switches on the machine attached to Ann again, and continues, I’m sure that both Hugh and Ann in some way feel your presence, but on what level I don’t know; I do know that it will take patience, love, and strength of spirit to journey back to this world, and that’s where you and your daughter come in; your love and attention is the best medicine they can receive right now.

Clark looks at Annie and then over to Hugh, somewhere deep in his heart he senses a battle is growing. He doesn’t know about the medical part of his wife’s and son’s injuries; he only knows it just can’t end like this. His world has gone to hell and it seems no matter what, he is following close behind. Slowly dropping his face into his hands, his head, and fingers begin to tremble as the enormity of what is happening spreads deeper into his mind. He whispers out loud, Oh, God! I miss ’em.

The fear of losing his wife