Circle

By Daniel J. Praz

Imagine finding yourself inexplicably trapped in the hostile environment of America hundreds of years before Columbus. Not knowing if you were captured by aliens from another planet and being held in a fishbowl as an experimental subject, or part of a cruel fate created to test the limits of your mind, the protagonist is forced to survive in the wild, all the while feeling as if constantly being watched. Along with this bizarre predicament, he is faced with the inability to speak and changes to his body from a slight, gangly young man to a massive beast of the wilderness where he is forced to live. Through both friendly and hostile American Indians, game that he can eat and game that can eat him, breathtaking scenic panoramas, and a surprise visitor, will he past the test, unlock the mystery, and once again be able to enter the circle?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 9, 2022
• ISBN: 9781669829232

Daniel J. Praz

Daniel J. Praz is the CEO, founder, and creator of the Mr. Sandless® wood floor refinishing system, a top-ranked, award winning business that he started in 2004 with just one truck and grew to more than 250 locations in ten countries. He is an ace guitarist who has toured and performed more than three thousand live shows and written, produced, recorded, engineered, mixed, and mastered multiple albums. He wrote his first novel at the age of twenty and Corner Store, his second novel, at the age of twenty-six. He has also written eight other books, all nonfiction of various subjects, with six published.

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Copyright © 2022 by Daniel J. Praz.

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.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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.

Rev. date: 06/08/2022

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CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER ONE

Did you ever have a recurring dream spurred by an event from your past? Maybe this happens only when we get older—I don’t really know. Older, of course, is a relative term. Thirty could be old to a fifteen-year-old, or sixty to a thirty-year-old. I think as we get older we may sleep longer but not deeper, and remain in a dream state for much of the night. That’s why I think we remember that we were dreaming because we are not in deep enough sleep to forget.

My friend owned a cleaning business for twenty years. He tells me now that he often dreams of endless cleaning, which sounds more like a nightmare than an actual dream. But he says he really feels like it is real—that he really is cleaning. What’s worse is he is stressed in the dream because he can never finish what he is cleaning. That’s what I am referring to: a recurring dream from something in your past where it truly feels like it is happening. It’s as real and tangible as the bed you sleep in, and worst of all, it is never resolved.

I’ve been having this dream of an event that happened to me years ago, and that is why I decided to tell my story. It’s partly to get it out of my head so that the dream can hopefully end. But partly to just tell what happened and be judged sane or insane, mad or rational, truthful or delusional. Only you can decide what you make of all this. I gave up trying to figure it all out.

It seems like a lifetime ago, yet the details are crystal clear in my mind. I was the lead salesman of a fire and safety company that was in a county several over from where I lived. That meant a forty-five-minute commute each way to get to work and back each weekday; up and down a stretch of interstate 95 through the city, which in the morning and evening rush hour was more like a raceway. While the speed limit was supposed to be just fifty-five miles per hour, just try going that slow. You would be literally run off the road! Most drivers did at least sixty-five, and many drove much faster than that. Everyone was always in such a hurry, and I often wondered why they need to race to where they were going.

This was not a leisurely drive where I could kick back, crank up some tunes on the radio, and enjoy the ride. No, this was a battle every day to basically stay alive, as crazy drivers darted in and out of traffic at ridiculous speeds, often crossing three lanes at a time in a dangerous fashion. I had to stay on high alert right up until I took the exit off the highway, five minutes from the office where I worked.

I was so young back then, just twenty-two, with my whole life ahead of me. At that time, I was a hell of a salesman; well, still am today—making plenty of money with my gift of gab. I had good credit, a nice car, and a fully furnished apartment. I could have moved much closer to work, but my girlfriend, my family, and friends all lived by my apartment. So I couldn’t bring myself to move even though it would have saved me a lot of driving. I also figured that eventually I would take another sales job closer to home and that would end all that driving. A good salesperson is always in demand, so I kept my eyes open for another opportunity.

I had been dating Sharon off and on for about a year and a half. We got along great, but I don’t recall that either one of us was ready for marriage at that time. At least, I know for sure that I wasn’t. I didn’t think the relationship was going to go past where we were, which was more like having someone to hang out with, go to the movies with, and things like that. I will admit she probably loved me a bit more than I did her. But at twenty-two, there was no way marriage was going to happen. I just didn’t feel settled in any way.

I had been working at the fire and safety company for two years. That meant I took that drive more times than I want to recall. It was the beginning of April, and spring was finally starting to show after a long hard winter. There was nothing worse that I recall than fighting to get to work after a snowstorm. I was so looking forward to getting outdoors, and my friends and I hoped it would be nice enough to have a barbeque at the park this one particular weekend.

That Friday night, March 21, when I was returning home, and as usual I was in no rush to get down the raceway as everyone else was. My plans with my friends were for Saturday, and my girlfriend was going out with her family that night. I had nothing on my agenda except maybe a few beers at the local bar around the corner from my apartment. Friday nights were always the worst driving, with everyone on the road seemingly frantic to get home. I remember putting a CD in as I drove down the highway, and cranking up the music as I eased over to the slow lane, hoping I could just cruise along and not have some hothead riding up my bumper to get me to go faster than sixty-five.

Before I knew it, I was home, standing in the asphalt parking lot outside my parked car next to my apartment entrance. The complex I lived at was something else. It was etched into the side of a hill. To level it out, there was a huge brick retainer wall in front of the driveway to hold back the eight feet of dirt next to the wall from falling into the drive. There were four buildings to the right of the driveway, with twelve units in each building. My place was on the bottom floor of the last building.

Behind the apartment complex was a hill that led down to a creek where I used to hang out as a kid. When I was younger, a mill operated upstream and the creek was polluted, so much so that not only were there no real fish in it, but you could never imagine even drinking the water there. It had a nasty smell to it. Since the mill had been shut down for years, the water was getting cleaner and brighter, and fish did return to it. Occasionally, I would venture down there to cast a line in. I knew every inch of that three-mile run as I fished it top to bottom many times.

Now back to that evening. The strange thing was, I didn’t recall how I got home so quickly. I didn’t recall most of the drive after I put the CD in. Let me say that this was nothing unusual for the most part. I would often get in the zone of driving, and it was over before I knew it. But this time, I didn’t even recall parking, let alone getting out of my car. I just stood there in the driveway, trying to remember, but couldn’t. I felt strangely separated from not just my life or that evening but everything, including my surroundings. I lost track of time and didn’t know if I had been standing there for thirty seconds or an hour, like I literally fell asleep standing there!

Before I could get my bearings, a sound like rushing wind came over me. I heard this incredible crack that resembled thunder, and for a second I thought I was hit by lighting as there were pounding vibrations on my chest. I literally couldn’t catch my breath.

In the retainer wall to my left, five or ten feet from where I was standing, a circular hole opened very quickly. It started out looking like a television screen with no picture but grew out from there. There was a sound that was emanating from that opening, with this circle of light that quickly grew in circumference to the height of the wall, basically an eight-foot circle. There was a churning and whistling sound as dried leaves and some trash in the parking area started to move as if the wind was creating a tiny tornado and kicking things around the parking lot.

Something had to be wrong with me because I wasn’t afraid and didn’t run. Maybe I couldn’t run even if I wanted to, frozen with a mixture of fear and curiosity. In fact, I felt more curious than fearful, so much so that I took a step closer to the swirling hole and peered into it. It seemed to go back into the dirt, then drop down. I never got a chance to look forward because once I took that step, I was rapidly pulled into this strange vortex of the hole, as if something had swallowed me up. Literally, it felt as if someone had put their hands on me to pull me into the hole! I felt their hands on my legs and back, pulling at me, and I didn’t even try and put up a fight to resist.

Immediately I was injured as I had a sharp pain in my left arm, shoulder, and neck. I thought that I must have clipped the brick retainer wall as I was pulled or pushed into the hole since I was standing down and to the left of it. It wasn’t bad enough that I was pushed in, but I got hurt from that as well. I grabbed the most vulnerable part of my neck to see if there was any blood, but all I could do was hold it as I fell at a decent pace downward.

I was not spiraling out of control, like going head over heels or anything like that. I was basically lying on a bed of air and falling steadily. There were flashes of colored lights, wailing sounds, and sounds as if a group of people was talking; kind of like the background noise you would hear in a bar or club—you know, voices cutting through the loud music of a DJ. I had difficulty breathing, and at times gasped for air. Along with that was the howling wind. I couldn’t lift my head to be able to look around. I felt as if I was held in place by some type of restraint or force.

I began to accelerate, and this was the first time I started to panic. I couldn’t tell if I was bleeding as I held my neck. I couldn’t move my left arm, and my entire body seemed to be immobile. The colored lights flashed even faster, and the noise intensified and raised in pitch. It was like I was being rushed somewhere to a point in this vortex, as if there was a destination for me to end up in as if it knew where it wanted to take me. Where that was and why I was being taken there, was all a great mystery to me. I had no control over my body, and I was moving so fast I couldn’t even think straight to be able to get a handle on anything.

Then suddenly the whirlwind ended. There was nothing but dead silence.

I was cast out, spit out of the vortex, and fell full body weight through the air, back first. I remember looking up to the sky and seeing the moon was brightly shining overhead with a few stars in the night sky, and for a second I felt at peace as if I was floating on a cloud in the air. But in a flash, my body crashed through a series of hard and sharp limbs of a pine tree, slapping hard against my head, neck, back, and legs. I landed with a crash and a thud on top of something very hard, which gave just a bit from my body weight as I hit it back first. I immediately passed out.

I assumed I was out all night. When I woke, it must have been early morning. There was a chill in the air as I lay on that hard surface I crashed into. A bit of fog filled the air as the morning sun began to warm the area around me.

At first, I couldn’t move. My body felt as if I was hit with an enormous hammer. I clearly still had pain in my left shoulder, arm, and neck, but all over as well. I closed my eyes and lay there for a few minutes, wondering how I was even alive after such a fall. As I lay there, I began to recall how I got there in the first place. A spike of adrenaline coursed through my body, prompting me to sit up and find out where I had ended up.

To my surprise, I landed on the roof of an old car, and unknown to me, I left an imprint of my body on the roof. It looked like a car from the sixties: round top, round features, partially buried at the hood, with old blue paint rusting off on the trunk. It was in the middle of a round hole the exact size of the portal that threw me there. This pit was eight feet around and eight feet high, filled with trash and debris that surrounded the old car.

I slid off the roof and down the trunk of the old blue car and stood on the ground at the edge of the hole. The dirt around the edge appeared to be seared and smooth. I knew right then that I would have a hard time being able to climb out. While I thought about checking out the old car, that adrenaline was still pushing me to find a way out of that hole to see where exactly I was. As I looked around to think about a way to get out of the hole, I realized that I no longer had any pain in my body. A burst of nausea overtook me for a second or two, followed by what I can only describe as bliss. I felt relaxed and all the pain subsided. The polo shirt I had on did not have any blood on it, nor did my light jacket. I could move my left arm and hand, and my neck seemed a bit strained, but without pain.

Using a rock, I was able to chip out a couple of holes in the side dirt of the pit to be able to stick my feet into so that I could be high enough to grab a large root that was near the top. Thankfully I only had a short reach since I stood six feet one inch tall, and with my hands over my head, could nearly reach the top. Since I only weighed one hundred thirty-five pounds at that time, I didn’t have much difficulty pulling myself out.

Just about out and over the edge, I grabbed at another vine that had thorns on it. While I was able to roll out of the hole, I let out a yell from the thorn in the palm of my hand, but no sound came out! Immediately I began to choke as if something was stuck in my throat. I could cough and I almost threw up, but I couldn’t make a sound. I wondered if a pine cone