When a Wolf Cries

By Terry Lee Hewitt

When Terry first experiences death at the age of ten years old due to an unfortunate and horrific car accident that left his younger brother fighting for his life, his whole world is changed. The transition from childhood to adulthood is impossible to adjust under extreme circumstances of compulsive and impulsive behavior, puberty, and inappropriate acts of teenage defiance. He searches for an identity while finding himself abusing drugs, alcohol, and countless relationships with women who ultimately leads to the inevitable dark path to prison. However, it is almost this inexplicable journey where he finds his great escape to sobriety and peace. He begins tearing down all the walls he has previously constructed to keep people out, with hopes that burned bridges can be redesigned and reestablished with a firm foundation structured with family values and spiritual formation principles in alignment with thousands of years of philosophical ethics and theories.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jan 7, 2022
• ISBN: 9781662450594

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When a Wolf Cries

Terry Lee Hewitt Jr.

Copyright © 2021 Terry Lee Hewitt Jr.

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2021

ISBN 978-1-6624-5058-7 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-5059-4 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Book Description

References and Recommended Reads

When a Wolf Cries: Part 2

Blurb

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

About the Author

Introduction

I, first and foremost, want to give glory to God for allowing this opportunity to be possible. Special thanks to all my family that has always encouraged me and stayed by my side through this—you know who you are. Thanks to all the authors, psychologist, and researchers that have made great strides with science, which have been a major resource for rehabilitation of my mind and body, transforming me into the humble man I am today. May peace be forever upon those who have passed away and did not get to see how their research and literature impacted me. Your hard work has not been in vain and has taught me to perceive life in a much healthier and broader spectrum. To all the great philosophers, may peace forever be upon you and your families. To the reader, I believe you'll enjoy reading this as much as I did putting it together for you. This experience has been enlightening, to say the least, and in the next part of When a Wolf Cries, we will enter deeper into the underworld that I have arisen from, explaining poetic romances, with some inexplicable events that in the end became lessons, unexpected magnificent blessings, or both.

Chapter 1

Not Too Far

The smell of the indigenous wildflowers mixed with the exotic sounds of the tropical islands' native wildlife was enchanting, as if I had teleported to Fantasy Island. It was unusually much more humid than the Carolinas, almost stifling. It was a bit sticky and uncomfortable as I tried to breathe, trying not to sweat in my new yellow-and-black Southpole outfit and absorbing the perfect imperfections God created on the island of Jamaica.

Landing at the airport in Kingston, Jamaica, was already revealing much more than I anticipated. As a ten-year-old, I was an inexperienced yet highly ambitious thrill seeker and now a traveler, with limited expectations that Hollywood depicted in the movie Cocktail. Awkwardness set in, as my family and I stuck out like sore thumbs.

It was not just because of how our natural-yet-somewhat-lighter skin complexions compared to the natives but mostly due to my sisters' and stepmom's Southern bell American English accent that raised the nonlocals' and travelers' flags as we conversated among ourselves with compulsive excitement, complimenting the elements that adorned our, what we imagined, paradise.

As we made our way, scurrying through baggage claims and getting processed by security, a line of taxis waited patiently in the airport pick-up and parking lot. My sister Gayle, Larae, and Allison followed close behind our new stepmother, Ann; her son, Christopher; me; and my father, Lee.

We then approached a middle-aged, slenderer gentlemen who was standing next to his minivan taxi, which was a lighter blue, bleached by the elements of the island's weather conditions. The man was holding a sign that read Carolinians and was yelling out, Taxi, in his native accent. Taxi for the Carolinians.

As we rolled our luggage toward the back of the taxi, the driver greeted my father, welcoming him and his family to the island of paradise.

Hello, my name is Bob. Your travel agent, Lisa, has prepared all your desired arrangements, and I am to take you to your villa, in which I will also guide you to any destination you desire during your stay on the island. Bob began loading our luggage into the back of the taxi, as my father supervised while glancing through a brochure he grabbed on our way through the airport lobby.

I entered through the front of the taxi in what would have been the driver's side in America but was the opposite on the island. Bob entered last and started the engine. I then realized in that moment this taxi was quite different than I had ever seen in America or on TV. Not only was the steering wheel and controls on the opposite side, but the seats seemed out-of-date and heavily worn worse than on my school bus. The vehicle was much older than I was, and it definitely was not made in America.

I asked Bob how long it would take to get to our villa because the small portion of food that was served on the plane was not all satisfying, and I was getting hungry.

Oh, it's not too far, Bob replied.

After about thirty minutes, I fell asleep, and about three hours later, I awoke with an excruciating headache from a mixture of my window having been left down, the constant wind irritating my ear, the difference in humidity and air pressure, and the exhaust fumes that fumigated the cab. The pain was uncomfortably blinding as I struggled to see my surroundings, squinting and peeking through my eyelids.

As we arrived on the base of the villa's mountainous driveway, the slope of the steep driveway was odder than I'd expected. It seemed nearly impossible to drive up if it was raining.

We then parked under the front entrance carport, at which point, we were then greeted by a butler named Henry, a maid named Meridith, and a chef named Marlayna. I had such a pounding headache. All I was concerned with was in what direction my room was so I could go lie down and nurse the unbearable pain that this tropical paradise had been so hospitable in greeting me with.

They escorted us through the front door of what resembled an ideal palace, given the overlook, as we entered through double-hung, solid mahogany, and eloquently carved doors. We were then guided to the dining room fit for a king and his family. I was bedazzled by the elongated and exquisitely designed black handcrafted walnut table with matching Victorian chairs and adorned with beautiful silverware and china.

We were then instructed by the butler to have a seat and our dinner would be served in just a few minutes. A few minutes passed, and we were first served with an island secret recipe lentil and pea soup with a loaf of home-baked cheese bread as an appetizer. I tasted one sip of the soup, and my head pounded even harder, as the heat in my mouth was like gasoline being poured on a fire. I respectfully requested for the direction of my room, impulsively rising from my chair, as I asked to be excused from the dinner table, hoping to seek refuge in my room with urgency to sleep off what had become the worst headache of my young life.

I awoke just past dawn. The enchanting sounds of the chirp of the native birds and feel of the cool tropical breeze, with invigorating smells of the surrounding lavender and tropical flowers, captured and stimulated my senses. My health had now been revived, and this gorgeous paradise now had my full attention.

I exited slowly from my room, tiptoeing down the hallway and approaching the lower-level inlaid living room located in what seemed to be the center of the villa. A sixty-inch-screen TV hung over an enormous fireplace wrapped in the indigenous river stone that layered the island's many freshwater streams.

The longest cream-colored couch I had ever seen surrounded the perimeter of the living room directly in front of the fireplace. The couch's tightly woven texture resembled exterior quality, as it was necessary to withstand the humidity. The entire villa was an open-layout floor plan. The only exterior doors were located at the front entrance. Through the living room, leading to the backyard, was separated by ten-foot-tall cream-colored drapes that blew in the tropical breeze. There was no air conditioner or heater, as there was no need due to the naturally comfortable temperature radiated by the elements of the island mixed with the fascinating architectural design of the villa itself that kept the temperature between a cool sixty-five degrees at night and just under eighty degrees on a hot summer day.

Through the drapes was a thirty-by-forty-foot concrete uncovered patio with a lounge table, in-ground pool, and Jacuzzi with a mesmerizing view overlooking the island's tropical mountainous landscape and the ocean about one thousand yards transcending in the distance. Never in my life had I been so aroused by such elements that were created under the sun.

I darted back into the villa with impatience and excitement to arouse the others, screaming out impulsively, Ya'll come look! We have an in-ground pool with a Jacuzzi attached to it and a view that is unbelievable.

Allison was the first to join me as I stood near the far end of the patio, leaning over the balcony hypnotized by the color of the tropical-green foliage that dazzled the landscape below.

The butler then arrived to the patio entrance just past the drapes and asked us if we would like to have breakfast.

Sure, we both irresistibly answered, as both of us smiled at each other with excitement. We both took our seats at the patio breakfast lounge table, intrigued at what would be served for our first breakfast as we gazed at the beautiful blue sky above us.

A few minutes later, Henry served us a bountiful basket of indigenous fruits and a glass jug of fresh-squeezed orange juice. I grabbed a banana, as Allison chose a bright-red apple. One by one, Gayle, Larae, Ann, Christopher, and my father accompanied us at the table. Henry brought everyone their glasses and plates and silverware.

Everyone took turns pouring their glasses full of orange juice, except for my father, who made an urgent request for coffee, black, no sugar.

Right away, sir, Henry replied.

Henry quickly returned with the chef Marlayna carrying a plethora of condiments, brown sugar, syrup, pancakes, blueberry muffins, bacon, sausage, eggs, butter, a glass jug of milk, and a stainless-steel pot of coffee. The comfort of being served with such eloquence by such kind and giving people was enough to influence my character and who I would later become as a young man who had a joy to serve my loved ones with succulent food.

Ann asked us what we would like to do today, as she glanced over a brochure, calling out, Bat cave, waterfall, gift shop, beach, botanical garden? Or would you girls like to get your hair microbraided with shells?

The bat cave was the most interesting to me, so I called out, Bat cave, bat cave. I was looking at Christopher with wide eyes and both arms raised to the sky and hands clenched tight as I pumped my arms up and down. Bat cave, let's go see the bat cave.

Gayle immediately responded with great opposition, Oh no, no, no. I'm not going in a bat cave. I'll just stay here.

Ann then asked her what she would prefer to do today, as she motioned for her to review the options laid out in the brochure.

"The waterfall! Is that really the one Tom Cruise was filmed in the movie Cocktail?" Gayle asked.

I believe it is, Ann replied. Larae and Allison both agreed that this should be our first endeavor.

"So it's settled. Cocktail waterfall, here we come," my father chanted with a big smile from ear to ear, as he looked at me, bouncing his eyebrows up and down with enthusiasm and a burst of excitement.

We then finished our breakfast and headed for our rooms to change our clothes into a more fitting attire. About a half hour later, we met at the front entrance of the villa where our taxi and Bob awaited us. I entered the taxi, this time making sure my window was cracked slightly just enough to get fresh air into the vehicle and hoping I wouldn't be plagued by another breathtaking headache.

It took approximately an hour to arrive at the waterfall, and the moment the taxi came to a complete stop, I swung the door open with impatient excitement. Bob pointed ahead and said, The tour guide is straight ahead, just beyond the point, not too far up the path.

We then gathered ourselves and headed up the path about twenty-five yards to the guide station, at which point we were welcomed by a man with dreadlocks and a long, uncombed beard, wearing torn flip-flops, basketball shorts, and a tan sweat-stained tank top.

Welcome to the island's most magnificent waterfall, he spontaneously but gracefully proclaimed in a very distinct Jamaican accent, as he motioned us to follow him down an unlevel, unevenly stone-carved step path. We arrived on the base of the waterfall's water basin, as the guide continued praising the perfect day for sightseeing as compared to the day before yesterday because it had rained all day and into the night.

We all stood silent, speechless, awestruck, and hypnotized as we absorbed the essence of the sound of birds chirping to the rhythm of the flow of water that kept the tempo as it ran over the rock ledge above, smashing through the basin below. It was truly breathtaking. Mystical, as in something only lived in a fairy tale. I felt like a character in the movie Jungle Book or Jumanji.

The waterfall peak appeared to be twenty to twenty-five feet above us. I was the first to get my feet wet as I soon noticed that little, tiny dime-sized pebbles littered the bottom, which were awkwardly unavoidable, and preventing me from moving too fast, as I attempted to speed toward the waterfall. Allison followed just behind me as well