Manawydan

By LaErtes Muldrow

An ancient prophecy made by Nubian Queen Hatshepsut takes generations to fulfill and in the process we follow events through time, space, and disappearances, finally converging in the 21st century where the prophecy continues fulfilling itself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Regency Publishers
• Release date: Jul 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9781961096806

LaErtes Muldrow

LaErtes is a San Francisco Bay Area producer, though he was born in Hope, Arkansas. LaErtes, whose name means, father-son-brother-king, is a fresh new author whose creativity, down to earth street smarts, frankness, humor, history, and unique approach to the fiction genre are interestingly evident throughout the genre he calls "Horra/Thrilla "For a person of color in those days it was better known as "Hope To Get The Hell Out Of Arkansas." My mother relocated us to Chicago, Ill. For a taste of Black Freedom and to meet my Father. Both adjustments were wanting, so we moved on to San Francisco, CA., where life became better for both of us. I was an only child. All the father figures associated with my mother were alcoholics. They taught me well. Music entered my life in elementary school throughout high school. In high school I threw myself into writing. I became the Editor, Music Reporter, and Current Events Journalist, for the first Afro-American high school newspaper in California. My life changed when I joined the Military. In the Army, I became a Strategic Com-munications Command Soldier. My Military Disabilities caught up with me, and I began undergoing corrective surgeries, suffered while in the Army. I have one daughter. Many conflicts occurred between her mother, that side of her family, and me. Developing into a major riff, between my daughter and I. While recovering from a couple of major foot surgeries I decided to write my daughter a letter bringing her up to date about me.A single letter turned into three-volumes of novels, yet published, too, AISHA!Awakening a gift which laid dormant inside me for many years¿ I Am Awake! LaErtes LEE Muldrow

Book preview

FOREWORD

You are about to experience the MANAWYDAN (pronounced: Mă – Nă – Wē – Dăn), fantasy horror adventure from my Horra/Thrilla genre. The writing style used is akin to an oral tradition of storytelling where villagers gathered around their favorite tree or fire-pit for stories about their heritage, history, lineage, myths, legends, and current affairs. I call the style Minimal- Listic, meaning: lack of rhetoric, non-redundant, with less description. Like the Storytellers before me, I tell stories giving you enough information to see images, and then you can use your own imagination for additional colorful details from your mind and heart. My Minimal- Listic style takes you from point ‘a’ to ‘z’ as directly and quickly as possible, via an entertaining story, so you can get back to stressing out about the realities of life.

Enjoy your brief escape into MANAWYDAN which means, Celtic sea god; son of Llyr.

Chapter 1

The quiet and stillness of this Halloween night was shattered by the flash from a five-fingered bolt of lightning across the skies, followed by the deafening roar of thunder. The still waters had erupted like a volcano exploding from the sea floor. The waves tossed the ship around; it was a leaf caught in the spin of a drainpipe, sucked down and spit out, only to repeat the process again and again. Tremendous tongue-shaped waves licked across the deck of the ship, washing anything not tied down overboard. A thick fog engulfed the ship; seeing your hand in front of your face was impossible. Lightning struck the five masts holding the enormous sails, ripping them to shreds. The mighty masts gave way under the force of the storm, sounding like branches breaking from trees in a forest. The rigging held tight, causing the broken pieces of mast to swing across the deck of the ship. These giant pendulums all moved at different speeds and directions, each one searching for a victim to knock overboard. Several crewmen met their fates while lingering on deck, innocently watching evening unfold.

Below deck, the drunken mutineers were so wrapped up in overpowering the captain that they had not yet realized the ship was hit by a storm…the storm. It was the type that legends were made of, the type bragged about in one hole-in-the-wall bar after the other, from one seaman to another. The mutineers had charged the captain’s cabin, led by the second in command, Barkley.

He had long awaited his chance to take over the ship, and tonight, he would get that chance. The mutineers yanked the captain away from his notebook entry in mid- sentence. The captain was bound with chains—most befitting for him to be enslaved in such a manner, since he had ruthlessly done so on many occasions to others. The mutineers dragged him from his cabin, as he kicked, screamed, cursed, and threatened their lives.

We’ve got your ass now, shouted Barkley. We know you’re behind all the deaths and the missing crewmen. You might not be this Phantom, or whatever the hell it is, but you damn sure know about it, and we be thinking you got it hid some place aboard ship. Now tell us where it is!

Lobett laughed and said, Not to worry, mate, it’ll be finding you, and real soon, too!

The storm was fierce, but even the forces of nature could not compare to the savagery that was about to be inflicted onboard ship this night. The crew was totally unprepared for the viciousness they encountered when they arrived on deck.

Follow me men! shouted Barkley. Let’s string this bastard up to the mast, give him a taste of his own… Before he could finish his sentence, a beam swung from a loose rigging and smashed into him the instant he set foot on deck, decapitating him; another strike sent his body sailing overboard.

The mutineers could not believe their eyes when they looked upon the turmoil that had been released on deck. They had entered another world; they couldn’t see anything clearly, and as each mate pushed the other aside to better view the madness, they were sucked into the storm’s fury.

Then, all hell broke loose.

Shadows began appearing on deck from the ship’s hold. Flying objects came slicing through the dark wetness, reflected in spilt-second glimpses during lightning flashes. Faceless assailants savagely attacked the crewmen, ripping them apart.

The fury of the storm subsided, allowing the fury onboard to momentarily grab the spotlight. The full moon pierced through the clouds revealing the ship’s crew in mortal combat with the shadows, which used anything and everything they could to inflict mortal wounds upon the crew. Screams could be heard into the far reaches of the ocean, but there was nobody there to hear those screams, nobody there to witness the slaughter. At the height of the action, another combatant joined the massacre, an awesome killing machine who stalked its prey stealthily, making only abstract grunts and swirling noises, completely devouring each victim, one at a time. It made no difference if it was a member of the crew or part of the cargo—all were good eating.

As the battle drew to a close, the storm returned to prominence; only this time, it was greater than before.

A whirlwind grabbed the ship, lifting it toward the stormy skies, and another five-fingered bolt of lightning flashed across the skies, striking what was left of the ship’s mighty masts. The flash of light revealed one sole outline, standing alone with outstretched arms on the deck of the ship, holding a body. But make no mistake, this lone silhouette was not human.

When the flashing from the lightning and the rumbling from the thunder had subsided, the storm, the fog, and MANAWYDAN were gone.

As if never existing.

CHAPTER 2

Every 100 years or so, mysterious elements of nature form in locations all over the world. Sometimes these elements collide. When they collide on land they create earthquakes, tornadoes, and volcanoes. When they collide at sea, they become something more destructive than any force by itself could ever become. Meteorologists call this joining of storm fronts The Three Sisters, a phenomenon composed of a hurricane, a cyclone, and a typhoon, usually occurring in late October. This is an old hurricane dying out in the Atlantic, being met by energy cutting across from another direction, and then a third force, an old frontal system merging with them. The three forces combine to form a perfect storm.

The Atlantic Ocean has been the notorious setting for these storms, creating an almost apocalyptic environment where boats encounter waves of 100 to 200 feet—the equivalent of a 20-story building. These storms are some of the strongest and most terrifying manifestations of nature’s strength. This type of storm has been isolated to an area of the planet known as the Bermuda Triangle.

The storm’s targeted location has become legendary and infamous over the years, earning it several names: Limbo of the Lost, Hoodoo Sea, The Twilight Zone, The 65th Parallel, and The Devil’s Triangle!

The Bermuda Triangle is physically located in the vast three-sided segment of the Atlantic Ocean, bordered by Bermuda, Puerto Rico, and Florida. Unexplained occurrences have always taken place there.

Ship and airplane compasses have gone haywire. There have been reports of weird lights in the sky. Derelict vessels, intact, have been found abandoned with their entire crews missing. Among the ships that have disappeared are the tanker ship, Marine Sulphur Queen with 39 men aboard, and the nuclear-powered submarine, Scorpion, with a crew of 99.

Flight 19 and a training squadron of five U.S. Navy torpedo bombers were lost in the Triangle. The squadron left Florida with 14 crewmen and disappeared after transmitting a series of distress messages; a seaplane sent out to search for the squadron also disappeared. Other aircraft that have disappeared in the area include a DC-3 carrying 27 passengers and a C-124 Globemaster II with 53 passengers.

Theories involving strange magnetic fields, time warps, invisible force fields, the lost city of Atlantis, and alien abductions have been circulated over the years.

However, the Bermuda Triangle legend began back in the 1800s when the infamous transatlantic slave ship, MANAWYDAN—with her entire crew and cargo of more than 1,000 slaves—disappeared and was never heard from again.

CHAPTER 3

Stutter … get down below and get the Skipper, ordered Tank, the second-in-command. Stutter, petrified by the sight, couldn’t move. Today, Stutter … today, barked Tank. The tone of Tank’s voice got Stutter on the move this time.

Stutter stumbled down below deck, tripped, and slid to a halt in front of Captain Mason’s door.

Sssss…Ssss…Ssskipper, Ttttttt…Ttt…Tank sssseeent…Tank sssssss…

Calm down, Stutter, calm down, said a patient Captain Mason.

Stutter’s speech impediment always got worse when he was excited. Something must really have him going this time, thought the captain as he calmly proceeded above deck. Stutter was a virgin seaman, meaning he was a virgin as far as both women and sailing were concerned. He was the captain’s nephew.

Stutter had been begging and pleading for years to go out deep sea fishing with his uncle. Ca ca ca come on Uncle Mason…wha wha wha when you gonna ta ta ta ta take me fishing with ya… like you promise? I wo wo wo wo wo won’t be in the way. I’ll do wha wha whatever work you and the crew crew crew says to do. I just wanna fee fee fee-eel the fresh salt air blowing on my fa fa fa fa fa… my mug, and the wild wind pus pus pushing against my body. The tu tu tu tug of the fee fee fee feeish on the line, begged Stutter with the look of a wild-eyed happy puppy dog on his face.

Finally, tired of hearing Stutter and his mother whine about it, the Captain agreed to bring Stutter along on the last voyage of the season. The full crew consisted of six. Now, Stutter made seven. He wasn’t expected to do much, except mainly stay out of the way.

The captain’s sword fishing boat was named The Llyr, meaning Father to the Sea God. She was a 72- foot-long, 21-foot-wide, steel longliner, the type of boat protesters were trying to get banned because of the long lining rigging used to catch fish. Activists would march up and down the docks with picket signs shouting, You longliners catch and destroy thousands and thousands of pounds of innocent marine life and seabirds every time you go out to sea. It’s time to end that madness!

Captain Mason’s response was, There’s lots more fish in the sea and birds in the air, so get FUCKED! You damned ‘land-lovers.’ You’re always looking to stir up trouble, messing with other people’s livelihoods!

He wasn’t the only longliner fisherman who felt that way.

Captain Mason had invested a bundle into the Llyr. She was high-tech and state-of-the-art, equipped with computers, sonar, radar, and a wet bar, along with satellite dishes, satellite phones, a big-screen TV and Dolby Digital Sound.

If you wanted to, you could use all the electronic equipment on her bridge to get from point A to point B, and not once look at the sea.

At night, she was lit up like the Las Vegas strip.

She was powered by two Detroit / GM 16V2000 Twin Turbo main engines, and backed up by another Detroit / GM 16V2000 Twin Turbo auxiliary engine.

Her service speed was 30 knots; her maximum speed was 50 knots.

The Llyr was the fastest longliner ever built. Mason told the ship builders, I want a ship that can jump clear out of the water after fish, and swallow them whole; a ship that can take any swell known to man and leap from wave to wave, if need be!

And that’s just what Captain Mason got when he commissioned her.

The Llyr was a remarkable vessel, and she cost him big bucks, but money wasn’t a problem for Captain Mason. He came from old money—money acquired through the trade and shipping of Black Gold.

The Llyr’s crew was a motley bunch, kind of like the Oakland Raiders —all excellent, quality players—all rejects from around the league, never becoming their best until they joined the Oakland Raiders.

Tank had been Captain Mason’s right-hand man for as long as he could remember. He and Mason were a legendary pair along the piers and docks of the world. They had turned out and closed many a bar in their time, be it by drinking or fistfights; they were an awesome pair.

Tank was 6’6, 300 lbs. of raw fighting man. Mason was no shrimp cocktail himself at 6’2 and 230 lbs. Seeing those two step into a bar together would sometimes bring silence to the place. Customers would wait to determine the Tank/Mason mood, deciding whether to fight, flee, or drink up. No one ever knew with those two. Their waterfront Bar Wars were infamous.

Trips was the Llyr’s navigator and the oldest crewmember. He boasted, I’ve sailed around this goddamn world so many times, I can smell the sea air and tell ya your exact location. Then he’d spit the juice from the tobacco he was constantly chewing. Hell, he’d spit on you if you were standing downwind at the time. Trips was the storyteller of the crew. If there was a tale about the sea ever told and you hadn’t heard it, all you had to do was ask Trips, and he’d be more than glad to give you his version.

Roach, the Llyr’s cook, had been on so many ships and survived such poor weather and dangerous voyages, he bragged, I don’t die—I multiply, just like a cockroach! Shit! I’m living proof, standing in front of yo face. I’m a lover…not a fight-ta!

And his proof was the children he had sired around the world. He had pictures of each one of his kids, and if you asked to have a look, be prepared to spend time because he didn’t carry a wallet with pictures of his children like most sailors, he carried a photo album. And when Roach began flipping through those pages, he relived the story behind the conception and location of all his kids.

Roach wasn’t a brave man and wasn’t much use in a bar fight, not like Tank and some of the other crew. At the first sign of trouble, Roach would find a place to hide out until the bulk of the fighting was over, then he’d turn up acting like he’d been whooping ass along with the others. But the man could work culinary wonders.

Squidy was an ex-Navy Seal, tough as they come. He maintained those behemoth engines of the Llyr, kept them roaring like a lion when necessary and purring like a kitten at other times. He also doubled as ship’s medic. Squidy had a kind and peaceful aura around him. Even though he was a trained killer, he cherished life and went out of his way to preserve it.

He once interrupted another soldier from taking advantage of a local woman while overseas. The man had snatched the