The Dream Weaver:
Into The Mystic
The Dream Weaver: into the Mystic is dedicated to Kim Williams. Her enthusiasm, humor, and encouragement saw me through many doubts of my own doing in completing chapters for this novelette.
A streak of light momentarily blotted out the pale glimmer of the stars and filled the void of night with an eerie glow of shimmering white light. The wild creatures gathered to witness this bewildering phenomenon. The reddish-orange ball peeked over the distant horizon until the east seemed to be on fire. From the brilliant blaze
Minutes seemed like hours as he watched and waited; finally it came, an explosion of light instantly filling the darkness of the past night. Lingering shadows quickly vanished as the sun slowly climbed into the sky and he knew his adopted home was just as beautiful as he remembered.
Having taken on a fresh luster, the foliage sparkled with a maze of glistening dew-drops in the first amber rays of the new day. The faint warbling of a multitude of birds loitered in the moist cool air of the California Mountains. He breathed deeply, exulting in the splendor of nature.
Once again, he had been sent to complete a task, a task that he has attempted to complete thousands of times before.
For now he felt as though he had come home. He loved the earth and all the creatures. It was good to be back.
In a quiet red brick house on the corner of Main Street, five-year-old Candy McGovern awakened with a puzzled expression on her sweet, round, face.
“Mama! I saw a funny dream.” She tugged on her white apron.
“What’d you dream, honey?”
“A man, Mama. He did funny things.”
“Like what?” The tall woman began to wash the breakfast dishes.
“He made people dream and then he showed them strange places. He made dreams come true, and nobody believed him. Mama, don’t let nobody hurt him. Please?” Her large blue eyes widened.
“Don’t be silly, Candy. It was only a dream. He isn’t real.” She looked sternly at her small blonde haired daughter as she wiped her hands on a red and white kitchen towel.
“But, he is, Mama, and they’re going to hurt him!”
“Candy,” her mother’s voice had an impatient ring that made Candy decide not to pursue the subject.
“Can I go outside, now, Mama?”
“Yes. Stay in the yard.” Her words were lost as the screen door banged shut.
The young man looked down the lonely stretch of highway at the town. A gentle breeze rustled the needles of the majestic pines. From the town came the sounds of screen doors banging, children screaming as they played tag, dishes being washed, a dog barking, music from radios, and all the usual noises of a typical June afternoon. He adjusted his backpack and brushed his dark hair out of his sea green eyes before starting his walk into town.
The lean young man strolled through the town to Hobson Park. He stopped in front of a green faded bench, slipped off his pack and put down his guitar case. As he sat, the bench squeaked noisily as if it had not been used in years. With ease, the handsome stranger opened the case and then swung the instrument onto his lap. He strummed a few chords. Soon he had a small crowd of children and teens around him.
“Play another,” pleaded a brown-eyed girl.
“Did you write those songs?” A lanky boy asked as he leaned against a nearby birch tree.
“Yep.” His voice was pleasant, yet, it held a note of power.
“Do they mean anything?”
“What do you think?” He started playing another song. The melodies he played had a haunting quality and seemed to contain a message; a message that put the young people under his spell.
“Okay kids, that’s all for now. Hey, does anyone know where I can stay until I get a job?” A smile spread across his handsome face.
“I do!” The girl with brown eyes spoke up. “You could go to the Greens. They have a room for rent, but I’m sure they’ll let you stay until you do get a job. Just tell them Liza sent you. They live at 1601 Sherman Drive.”
“Thank you, Liza.” He smiled warmly at her.
The Greenes house was a large, white colonial structure with a wide porch and a white picket fence around the yard.
Edna Greene opened the door and looked at the slim young man. “Yes?”
“You have a room for rent?”
“It’s not much, just a bedroom and bath. We furnish the meals. We charge a hundred a week.” Gerald Greene spoke from behind his wife.
“I’d like to take the room, but I’d have to work out some arrangement to pay you until I get a job.”
“Do you have any references here in town?” The old man reached up and scratched his snowy white hair.
“No. Wait a minute. Liza told me to come here, if that’s any help.”
“Liza Norton?” asked the old lady.
“Okay, we’ll let you stay here but we have a few restrictions.” Gerald stuck his pipe into his mouth. “The first is; no excessively loud music. We don’t want the neighbors to complain.” He eyed the young man’s guitar case. “Second, no women are to be entertained in your room. Third, illicit drugs are not allowed. You don’t do drugs, do you?”
“No sir, I’m against all that.”
“That’s good, right Edna?” His bony hand rested on her arm.
“Yes. C’mon in and I’ll show you to your room. By-the-way, I don’t believe we caught your name.”
“Michael. ” He gazed intently into the older man’s coal black eyes.
The room was on the left at the end of the hall on the second floor and overlooked the large backyard. Looking out the window, he could see where a garden was struggling to grow on the east side. He raised his hand and pointed to the plants. A streak of blue light engulfed them. Within seconds the leaves unfurled and the stalks stood upright. The brown hue of wilt turned into a healthy green.
The bathroom was to the right of the door. A desk faced the window near the bathroom. Along the far wall was a comfortable looking bed with a light green spread. Across the room and to the left of the bed a closet was built into the wall.
“It’s perfect! I really appreciate this.” Turning to face the elderly couple, he spoke somewhat hesitantly, “Excuse me; I know you must be thinking about your son. Perhaps I can help you straighten him out.”
The couple looked in astonishment at him. Their eyes asked the silent question, how did this stranger know about their son?
“How’d you know about Adam?”
“Never mind about how I know that, Mrs. Greene. He gets out sometime tomorrow, I believe. I’m certain I can help him reach his true potential and turn his life around. I know he can stop his criminal activities, if he tries.”
“It’ll take a miracle to straighten him out.” Edna sighed and wiped her hands on her apron.
“He’s rotten to the core, huh? Well, we’ll see. I think he can change.” Michael carefully set his guitar case on the floor. “Don’t worry about him. He will be okay.” He shrugged out of his backpack.
That night Adam sat on his cot in the jail and cursed. He was angry at himself, his parents, and the entire world. Everyone did wrong by him. Exhausted he slipped under the blanket and fell asleep. Almost immediately he began to dream and he saw a man in jeans and T-shirt with long brown hair and sea green eyes beckoning him to follow. Those eyes seemed to pierce his soul. As he resisted the temptation to follow this mystical man, the being faded away. Soon after his disappearance, the cell Adam was in became filled with a strangely haunting song. As the song proceeded he was shown a magical place filled with beauty, a place in which everyone lived without hate. There was no crime, sickness, or war in this dream world.
Adam awakened from his sleep, yelling. He sprang from the cot and grabbed the bars of his cell. “Take me with you! Don’t leave! Please, take me too!” Sweat poured down his strong back as he shook and strained at the cell bars.
A jailer rushed to his cell.
“Adam, what’s wrong?” Officer Hall asked his deep voice got through to the prisoner.
“Oh, God!” Adam pulled back on the bars and dropped his head onto his right arm. “Please oh please,” he sobbed.
He did not resist when the officer pulled him away from the bars and eased him back onto the cot.
Edna found Michael sitting in the darkness of his room, softy strumming his guitar and singing an old hymn. A series of alien vibrations seemed to issue from him; though the room was cloaked in darkness a strange glow filled the place.
Edna stood in the doorway for several minutes before speaking, “Michael, what is that song?” She turned the light on.
“It’s just an old song.”
“It’s very good. Why don’t you come downstairs and sit with us? We’d like to hear some of your songs, if you don’t mind.”
Together they walked down the corridor, down the stairs and into the living room. Michael sat on a stool by the fireplace and watched the flames dancing merrily in the hearth. The Greenes sat on black vinyl chairs across from him. A cool breeze from the open window twirled the flames in the hearth in eerie synchronization to the chords Michael played on his guitar. The firelight sprinkled shadows and light across his dark brown hair and face making him look both angelic and demonic.
He tilted his head slightly and continued to strum the guitar. The music swelled and burst forth from every corner of the room. His husky voice rang out as the words penetrated their hearts to pierce their souls.
As he sang, a vision of Adam walking in a flower covered field visited the elderly couple making them oblivious to the mist filling the room.
“That was beautiful. It made me dream of a wonderful place, too bad it’s not true. Just think a place with no crime, hate, drugs, sickness, or hunger would be paradise.” Edna sighed and folded her thin hands on her lap.
“To think of a place full of peace, I wish we could see it.” Gerald said with his eyes shut.
“You can, if you follow me.” Michael’s voice was barely more than a whisper. He and stood left the room. “I’m tired, so I’ll say goodnight.”
The morning sun shone brilliantly through the bedroom windows. The sounds of birds chirping, the scent of coffee, and bacon frying awakened Michael. He quickly dressed and went down to the kitchen.
“Good morning,” he greeted.
“Good morning, Michael.” Edna poured him a glass of orange juice. “Would you like some coffee?” She asked as she slid a plate in front of him.
“Yes, please. No bacon or eggs for me, please.” He smiled as she placed toast onto his plate.
“Why?” Edna turned to face him in surprise.
“I don’t eat meat.”
“Oh, okay. What can I serve you?”
“The toast, juice, and coffee are fine, thank you.” He smiled as he lifted the coffee mug to his lips and blew lightly on the hot liquid.
“Adam gets out today, doesn’t he?” He broke a piece of toast and chewed thoughtfully, looking closely at the look on their faces.
“How did you know?” Gerald asked guardedly.
“You seem to know everything that’s going on in this family. How’d you know about Adam?”
“That’s simple, it’s in the paper.”
As if not believing him, Gerald picked up the paper and flipped though it twice before he found the article. “So, it is. I’m sorry.”
“Michael, why did you come to our town?” Edna asked as she sipped her tea.
“I’m here to right the world and offer something to everyone.” He stopped talking and began drinking his coffee.
“And?” Edna prodded.
“Nothing.” He set his cup down, but kept his hands around it. “You’ll learn soon enough.” He kept his head bent and stared at the empty cup. “I have to get going. Have to find a job.”
“Michael?” she called out.
“Nothing.” The small woman busied herself stacking the breakfast dishes in the washer.
“Gerald, there’s something odd about Michael,” she said when they were alone. “Maybe not wrong, but different.”
“There’s something different here, that’s for sure. That boy is down right spooky. Where”d he come from; why hide his reason for being here? It’s not for a job offer, he said himself he’s looking for one.”
“And why did he refuse to give a last name? I tell you, Gerald, something is going to happen and I’m not at all sure the folks around here are going to like it. And there’s something else; something about last night that I can’t quite place.” She untied her white apron and smoothed her dress.
Michael ambled down Main Street with his hands in his pockets whistling, ‘Best Day of My Life’ by American Authors. He had lied to the Greenes about looking for a job and it bothered him.
As he passed the red brick house on the corner, Candy McGovern looked up from her sandbox. “You’re here!” She climbed out of the sandbox and ran to the green gate.
Michael swung open the gate and squatted, “Well hello, Candy.” His eyes sparkled with delight. “What a pretty red and white dress you have on.” He picked the giggling child up and twirled around on the balls of his feet. Her laughter was music to his ears.
“I love you, Michael.” She placed her fat little hands on his cheeks and gave him a big, wet kiss.
“I’m glad, and I love you too.” He returned her kiss and gave her a little squeeze. “Candy, you do know what I’m doing here, don’t you?” He held her at arms length and studied the now solemn face.
She nodded, making her blonde curls bounce. “You are here for God’s work.”
“Yes, I am and you also know that everyone must believe in me before I can take them to paradise, don’t you?”
“Yes. But oh Michael, the grown ups are going to hurt you.” She scrunched her face and looked as if she was going to cry.
“Don’t worry about that, honey. No one can hurt me.”
“Candy! Who are you?” Judith McGovern came to the screen door. A blue bandana covered her short, auburn hair.
“Mama, this is the man! He was in my dream yesterday.”
“Good morning, Mrs. McGovern. You have such a pretty little girl.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry she’s such a little liar.” She looked at Candy, who was playing with Michael’s shoulder length hair.
“She’s not a liar, imaginative, perceptive, and smart, but not a liar. I’m afraid I have to be going now, Candy. You be a good girl and I’ll see you later.” He put her down.
The Mayor’s office was furnished ornately with a marble top desk set precisely in front of the windows offering a view of a small park and City Hall. Gil Thornton sat at his desk and reviewed a petition for street lights on Beach Street.
The secretary held open the door and ushered Michael inside. The Mayor looked up and decided immediately that he did not like the young man.
“Sir, my name is Michael. I realize how busy you must be, so I’ll only take a few minutes. I’m here to ask for permission to give a free concert tonight in Hobson Park. I assure you there will be no drugs, alcohol, destruction of public property, or excessively loud music.”
“The crime rate always rises during these types of events.”
“How about if I promise you will see a drastic drop in the rate of crime by morning?”
“How would you do that?” The Mayor looked at him with interest and skepticism.
“I have methods. Do I have permission?”
“Drop by later today for the permits.”
“Thank you, sir,” Michael turned to leave.
“One moment.” The Mayor looked at him.
“How do I know you’ll make good on your promise?”
“You don’t.” He glanced over his shoulder at the Mayor and smiled as he headed toward the door.
He swiftly made his way to Liza Norton’s house. Together they arranged to rent a stage and chairs from her fathers hardware store. They bought poster boards and paint. After they made the signs, they distributed them in the various stores along Concord Street.
“I know where you can get the microphones, a drum and drummer and an electric guitar.” Liza shyly looked into his face.
“That’s great! Where?” He stared into her pretty eyes. The excitement in him was nearly bursting.
“My brother plays the drums and works at Musicland. He can play any song. He’ll probably play for nothing and they’ll let you use the equipment just to get the publicity.”
After making the arrangements, they agreed to meet at the park at six that night. Liza left Michael at the park and ran home to speak to her brother.
Michael headed toward the highway. He felt a stroll through the woods might help him straighten his mind and give him a clear view of what was expected of him and what would happen.
Silence ensued, broken only by the occasional twitter of a bird or the rustle of a leaf. He left the highway and climbed the steep, crooked trail. Majestic pines with their branches reaching skyward blotted out most of the sunlight, only a golden ray sneaked through to throw splotches of light on to the dark ground. Rounding a bend in trail, Michael came upon a yearling doe. Her eyes were large and sorrowful and she stepped lightly toward him and nuzzled his hand.
“Hello,” he whispered running his hands over her sleek brown body. “Come to visit with me?”
The doe ducked her head up and down as though she understood his words. Her white tail twitched not in nervousness but serenely.
“You want to know what? Yes, it’s so good to be back home again.”
The doe jumped a few steps ahead of him and looked, “Want to play, do you?” He laughed and gave chase. As they frolicked a raccoon joined them followed by a squirrel. One by one animals joined them, and a robin lighted on his finger. Then, as if on cue, man and animals wandered away.
“I’m sorry you won’t be able to come to the concert,” Michael set down his earthenware coffee cup.
“So are we, but we have to be at the station to pick up Adam.” Gerald folded the newspaper he had been reading and put his glasses into his shirt pocket.
“Oh, yeah,” he laughed, remembering the dream he had instilled in Adam. “I don’t think you’ll need to worry about him anymore. I think he’s changed.”
“How long do you think the concert will last?” Edna asked as she put on an old watch and wound it up.
“Not later than eleven or midnight.” His smile showed perfectly white teeth. “Speaking of which, I’d better get going. It wouldn’t be fair to leave Liza and Tom to do everything.”
He found Liza and her brother, Tom, arranging the equipment on the stage.
“So this is Michael,” Tom smiled and shook his hand.
“Michael, this is my brother, Tom.”
“Hello.” Michael looked at the park. “You guys have been busy.”
“Liza has done nothing but talk about you since yesterday. I just had to see what all the fuss was about,” he laughed.
“Tom!” Liza giggled and slapped at her brother.
“We set up the stage. I hope everything meets with your approval.”
“It looks fine.” Michael placed his hands on his hips and glanced quickly at the stage and then at the chairs on the lawn.
“What songs do you plan to play?”
“You won’t know any of them. They are really old. Why don’t you just listen to the first few strands and then join in?”
Impatiently they waited. Gradually, people began to arrive. Most were young, but there were a few adults and senior citizens present.
The Mayor arrived with his entourage. Judith and Candy came a few minutes later. Candy looked at the Mayor and cried. She grabbed her mother and hid her face.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?”
“Bad man! Bad man here!” She cried.
Judith looked around but did not see anyone who would fit the description of a bad man. Shh. . . Its okay. Lets listen to the music your friend Michael is going to play.”
Michael saw them and started toward them when he was called away for a microphone check. Candy’s reaction bothered him. “Who was the bad man she referred to?”
“Liza,” he clapped a hand on her shoulder. “What kind of security do we have?”
“The cops sent a couple officers to keep watch.” She set the stool on the stage, “Are you expecting trouble?”
“I hope not.”
Shortly after seven Michael jumped onto the stage and picked up the guitar. “Hello!” He shouted to the audience. “My name is Michael. Glad you could join me tonight.” He smiled and looked over the audience, seeking out those who might need convincing. “I hope you enjoy the program tonight and find the music a transcending mystical experience.” He started strumming the guitar softly, the volume increasing as he sang.
To some he looked like a throw back to the hippies of the 1960s with his long brown hair, sneakers, faded and patched jeans, multi-colored tee shirt, and denim jacket.
To the teens he looked like a rebel hero out to fight the world, and to the children he was the weaver of dreams; The Dream Weaver. Yet, the elderly saw him as religious singing old time hymns.
His long, slender fingers scarcely moved as he strummed song after song. His voice started out soft and gentle and grew in power and volume as the song drew to an end. The music sounded timeless as though from another period, another planet and had a soothing effect on the crowd. Tom hit the drums with a slow steady rhythm that added to the unearthliness of the music. Liza joined in with a harmonica.
“Somewhere the sun is shining and songbirds are repining,” his voice rang out crystal clear. “I dreamt of judgment morning with trumpets blowing.” He closed his eyes and felt the power building like a gathering storm. Blue sparks twirled from where his fingers met the guitar strings and snaked their way from the stage to the audience.
Judith closed her eyes and saw a dirt road winding through the forest. At the end of the road was a wooden gate. She opened the gate and stepped into the driveway. It wound through gardens of fruit trees, vegetable plots, and violet, red, orange, yellow, and blue flowers. The drive gave way to a pristine white house. Michael stood in the open door and beckoned, “Come in. All are welcome here.”
Judith hesitated and looked around her. Her heart pounded with fear.
“You will not be hurt. You are welcome here, but you must choose. You have free will and only you can decide to come in.”
The mayor glanced around at the audience. “Quite a crowd showed up. I hope you assigned some officers for control,” he said to the police chief standing next to him.
“I did.” The man rubbed his hand along his temple. “I need an aspirin. These concerts always give me a headache.”
“Do you call this music or noise?” The mayor asked, and yawned. He shook his head and peered at the ground.
“Something wrong?” The police chief asked as he glanced at his radio.
“I thought I saw a snake in the grass,” He lifted his foot and looked around. A dozen snakes coiled under where his shoe had been and then faded into nothing. “I’d swear these songs are the road to hell.”
“Hey, now Mayor, this is just music.”
The chief looked out across the park and back toward town. His hand flew to his mouth. The town was in flames. Buildings were charred and crumbling while flames licked skyward. He shook his head and looked again. Everything was back to normal. “What was in the aspirin?”
“What’s that?” the Mayor asked.
“Nothing,” he mumbled.
Two police officers stood along the perimeter taking in the music and watching for trouble. Officer Carter leaned against a lamp post and tapped his foot. A smile crept across his face. “He’s pretty decent, don’t you think Kyle?”
“Really, Carter? I hear a lot of sounds. Not sure I like them.” Officer Kyle stared at the man on stage. He saw what looked like a knight in battle armor, dented and rusted.
Hour after hour Michael played and the audience listened enraptured. All too soon, the concert came to an end. Long after the crowd left the three of them sat on the stage.
“Wow.” Liza sighed.
Michael cocked his head toward her as he continued to strum his guitar. “What?”
“That was wonderful.”
“Never heard or played anything like that before.” Tom said, looking at his hands. “Dude, it was like my hands were in motion but someone else was playing the music.”
Michael just smiled and continued to play. “Thank you both for your help.”
It took the three of them a couple of hours to tear down the stage and pack up the chairs. “Almost eleven, you guys need to get on home.” Michael picked up his guitar case, “See you tomorrow.”
The streets were eerily quiet. As he strolled past the McGovern house he was overcome by feelings of fear and sadness. Candy was afraid for him. She was scared the town people would turn against him.
“It’s okay, Candy,” he whispered. “I told you, no one can hurt me. Don’t worry. I will be fine, go to sleep little one.” He reached his hand upward toward her bedroom window.
He walked down the darkened road to the Greenes home. Edna and Gerald had not returned yet. Instead of turning on the lights, he quickly started a fire and sat beside the hearth. He gazed into the hearth; his sea-green eyes reflected the blues, oranges, and reds of the flames. They lashed out wildly and shot up the flue, dashing his shadow against the walls of the living room then fell to the floor, ebbing away in ocean current-like movements.
Michael pursed his lips as he thought about the challenges and battles coming up. Was he going about this correctly? Was there another way?
The sound of a key turning in the lock and then turning again when it was discovered the door was unlocked interrupted his thoughts.
A large, muscular man with tattoos on his arms entered. His face was a mish-mash of scars and a crooked nose. He paled upon seeing Michael.
“You!” He gasped. “What are you doing here?”
Edna and Gerald looked from Adam to Michael in confusion.
“I saw you in my dreams!” Adams deep voice rose sharply and ended in a squeak.
“Was I?” Michael looked at him. “How is that possible? I don’t even know you.”
“Yes, you.” Adam stopped in confusion and turned toward his parents.
“They can’t help you now, Adam.” Michael stood up. “You have to do it yourself.”
Adam entered the room without knocking. Michael turned over on his back and opened his large sea-green eyes. “Why do you want to kill me?” His gaunt face was composed and expressionless.
Michael sat up and swung his long legs over the side of the bed. He stretched and yawned.
“How did you know?” Adam cleared his throat.
“Never mind that. Why do you want to kill me? What have I ever done to you?” His beautiful eyes narrowed until they were mere slits in his tanned, gentle face.
“You’re weird, you know that? You show up in my dreams and make me see things I can’t have. What are you?” The knife slid into view.
Michael looked at the shining blade. “Go ahead.” His lips curled upward slightly, but without emotion. “Go ahead and stab me. I can assure you, it won’t do a bit of good. Go ahead and do it.” Michael tore open his pajama shirt, exposing his chest. He lightly tapped his chest, “Heart should be right about here.”
Adam lunged forward, slipping the blade into the exact location Michael had indicated. Michael gasped and slumped forward as the knife was thrust upward and then yanked out. He grabbed the edge of the bed and slowly sagged to the floor.
Adam stumbled back as he turned a ghastly shade of white. “Dear God, what did I just do?” Uncertain what to do he knelt beside Michael. “Hey, man, I’m sorry.” He pressed his hands to Michaels chest and tried to stem the flow of blood.
Michael took a long shuddering breath and sat up. He gave Adam a deathly cold stare. Adam shook with fear. Adam’s pasty face grew even whiter as he stared at Michael’s bare chest. Where the knife had entered there was a slit that disappeared as he watched.
“Look at your knife, Adam.” Michael commanded as he worked his magic on the man.
In shocked silence, Adam looked down at the weapon in his hand. It should have been covered in blood, instead it glistened clean and sharp. The knife slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor. He reached up and ran his fingers through his bushy hair.
“Adam, you will change your ways. You will obey me.” Michael spoke softly. “No more will you buy and sell drugs, rob stores, or mug people. I normally do not use my powers to force people to change because this magic I have can go awry. It can harm people if their core is evil.” He paced and turned to stand directly in front of Adam.
He reached out and placed both hands on Adams head. “Your case is different. You want to be good but are weak. You have caused enough heartache to everyone in your life. No one has harmed you or forced you to do those things. You did it to everyone on your own.”
Michael stared hypnotically at Adam. “Remember that dream you had in prison? You can have it all if you give up this life of crime. You have to work hard and try hard to make everything right.” He let go of the man and grabbed his jeans.
“I give you free will; you must choose to follow me in order to achieve paradise. Everything is possible for those who believe.” He buttoned his shirt and left the room.
“Hey Bill,” The Mayor greeted the caller. “Do you have the report I asked for?”
“Just came in.”
“You do? Very good.” He drummed his fingers on the wood desk as he listened to the run down on police activity. “You mean it’s dropped that low?” He sat back in his chair for several minutes as he digested the information.
“Yes. Can you get me a run down on this Michael character? Check his criminal record, and so forth.”
“You mean the guy that gave the concert last night?”
“Yeah, I think it’s odd that he suddenly showed up and put on a concert. Then the crime rate drops. If you need a picture of him, I think the paper was there last night. There’s something about that weirdo I don’t trust.”
“Thanks Bill.” The Mayor leafed through the papers on his desk as he wondered who Michael was and what the young man might know about the town.
Michael stood on the backyard porch steps and drank in the fresh mountain air. Its begun, he sighed.
As in the past the people have begun to turn against him. Hed hardly started this battle and already he felt as though he was losing. Every time he went into battle it seemed as though Apollyon gained a stronger foothold.
“My work will never be done,” he sighed. He wondered why people don’t listen to him. In times of great need they call for the mercy of God, but when prosperity is present they ignore him and go on their destructive paths.
A brisk walk always brought him out of his melancholy and dispelled his doubts. Where were Gabe and Israfil when he needed them? Can’t the people understand he offers them paradise?
Before he realized it, he was standing in front of the McGovern house. “Hello Judith,” he greeted as she stepped out of the house to vigorously shake a rug. “Where’s Candy?” A creeping sense of wrongness grabbed him.
“She’s in the backyard.”
“No, she isn’t.” He leaped over the gate and dashed past the startled woman. He swiftly searched the house and yard. “Candy! Candy, ollie ollie out in free!” He yanked cabinets open and peered inside.
“Judith, you better call the police. Candy’s not here!”
“She was in the backyard. How did she get out? She can’t unlatch the gate and you’re the only one that’s been here.”
“I don’t know.” He shook his head, anger filling his body. “Judith, please do as I say!” He commanded.
The police interview lasted an eternity. Judith all but blamed him for Candy’s disappearance. An Amber alert was issued for the child and search parties were organized and Search and Rescue was called in to assist the police.
Michael wandered the town. He paused and cocked his head as though listening for a child’s cry. He stuck his hands into his pocket and continued to walk.
In the distance he saw the white steeple of a church rising high above the other buildings. Where the other churches in town were constructed of brick, chrome, and painted glass; this one was plain. No fancy metal or glass work adorned it. It was built of wood and painted white. It sat perched upon a hill and looked as though it was keeping watch over the town. The church reminded him of a shepherd guarding his flock.
He climbed the steps and found the simple wood door ajar. “Hello?” he called as he stepped inside. The difference in temperature was immediate. Inside the church felt pleasantly cool and calming.
The windows lining both sides of the church cast a sunny glow into the interior. In front of him was a blessing fountain. A ragged carpet ran the length of the church separating the room into two. Pews lined each side of the carpet. In front were a table and a wood podium. Risers and a piano stood to the right of the podium. Individual candles were placed on the table.
“Hello!” the priest stepped into the room. “Welcome to God’s house.”
“Thank you, Father Juan.” Michael said and slid into a pew. “I am weary.”
“Come rest awhile, my child.” The priest slid into the pew beside him. “God sent you to me for restoration. Are you a preacher questioning your calling?”
“No,” Michael shook his head, “No, Father. I am a messenger and warrior for God. I am Michael.”
The Priest’s eyes widened as he saw a whitish glow around the young man. He watched in awe as he saw a vision of a warrior. “Archangel,” he whispered. “God has sent you to me. I am but a humble servant.”
“You are much more than that, Father. You wield a mighty sword.” Michael grasped the priests’ hands and brought them to his lips. “It is I who is honored to be in your presence. You have much faith, and I am in need.”
“What can I do for you?” He lifted a Bible from the pew and opened it. “Matthew 11:28, Come to me all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Ecclesiastes 3:1, for everything there is a season, and a time for everything under heaven.”
“Pray for me, Father.”
“Let us bow our heads.” The priest grasped Michael’s hands. “Oh Lord, we come to you in prayer needing your strength and guidance. Michael comes to you asking for strength to carry out your mission. We do not ask that you take this task away from him, but rather, that your will be done. Lord I come before you today knowing that all power is in your hands. Our friend, Michael, is struggling with this task bestowed upon him. I pray that you will reach down and touch him right now. Let your strength help him through this difficult time, for thine is the glory forever and everything is possible through you. Amen.”
“Amen.” Michael lifted his head, “Thank you Father. May God bless you and keep you.” With renewed vigor he stood and walked out of the church.
Liza, Michael knocked on the door and peered inside. “Liza, I need your help.”
“Sure, what’s wrong?” She stepped outside and looked at him.
Candy McGovern is missing.”
“Yes, and I’m afraid its my fault. If I hadn’t gone over to see her the other day, her psychic abilities might not have come forward.”
“Wait a minute!” She laughed, “Psychic abilities? What are you talking about?”
“Candy has psychic powers. Since my visitation she has been predicting exactly what will happen with each step I take in my work.”
“Your work.” She repeated hollowly as she remembered a daydream shed had at the concert.
“Yes, my work. Gods work.” He stated but did not elaborate. She told me someone would try to kill me. Michael paused, searching for the right words. “I think someone found out about her abilities and they want to harm her to get rid of me. I need your help in finding the child before she is harmed. For some reason I can not see where she has been taken so Apollyon has to be involved through someone in this town.”
“Do you realize how crazy you sound?” She looked at him clearly for the first time and saw a total stranger. Instead of the handsome young man with the winning smile, she saw a haggard, hardened biker type guy. She shook her head and the vision went away.
“I am Michael, of God,” he stated, “and I need your help.”
“Yeah. ” Visions of paradise danced in front of her eyes. “Sure, I’ll help.”
“I give you free will. If you choose not to help me, no harm will come to you or your family.”
“Okay.” She patted his shoulder. “So you’re Michael, of God, huh? How am I going to explain that one to Tom?” She reached for her phone. “I’m going to get Tom to help.”
“You guys cover the south and I’ll search the north end.”
Michael returned home late at night without finding any trace of the child. His mind was so filled with worry he unconsciously blocked everything.
“Michael! I said where have you been? We’ve been worried sick. Gerald sent Adam out to look for you.”
“Huh?” He sat in the armchair and tossed his shoes to the floor. “Don’t worry about me.” He pulled his socks off and began rubbing his feet. “Worry about Candy.”
“Oh, yes.” The lines in her face deepened, “We heard about the missing child.” She nervously wiped her hands on her apron.
“Michael, the police came by looking for you. They said they wanted to ask you some questions. Do you know something about the missing child?”
“Thanks. I’ll stop by the station in the morning. No, I don’t know anything about Candy’s disappearance.”
“Please be careful. No matter who or what you are, I’ve grown fond of you and think of you as another son. If you’re in trouble, we can help.”
“Thanks, but you really know nothing about me. I can handle it.”
As he climbed the stairs to his room he got the distinct feeling of being watched. It was a well known sense of doom.
He had fought and won many battles, but the few he had lost always bothered him. He stretched his lean frame out on the bed and used his arms as a prop for his head.
“Why?” he whispered. “Why this one?” As he lay there, he listened for the faint cry of a small child in distress. His efforts were met with stark silence. “Why must the child suffer?” He closed his eyes and prayed for guidance, that he could save the child, and that his battle was not in vain.
Candy woke up to total darkness. Her hands and feet were tied together and there was a rag wrapped around her mouth. Tears streamed down her face as she cried for her mother. In the darkness she could hear the scurrying of rats and mice. Her head ached where the men had struck her and she felt dizzy and nauseous. Her bladder was full to bursting and any minute now she would embarrass herself.
She wished Michael would find her but wasn’t sure he could. Something about the place felt like a giant block that kept him from her. Two men entered the room. One of them carried a crowbar.
“Beat the little freak,” the first man said.
“With pleasure.” The second man tapped the crowbar in his hand, raised it, and swung it down on the child.
“Michael!” Candy screamed as loudly as she could through the rag binding her mouth. She prayed Michael could hear her.
Michael woke with a start. He heard the faint cry of a child. It’s Candy he thought. “Okay honey, keep crying, I’m coming.” He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He thrust his pajamas into his backpack. As he neared the door he picked up his guitar case.
He crept down the stairs; pausing every few feet to listen for sounds he may have disturbed the others in the house.
“Please, God, don’t let me be too late.” He quietly slipped out the door.
Once outside, he quickly slipped the backpack onto his back before heading east toward where he sensed Candy was being kept. He looked around. A dark presence was nearby and he felt as though he was being followed.
I’m coming Candy, he thought as he hurried across the dimly lit section of the park. He paused every so often to gauge the direction of her cries. They seemed to be coming from an abandoned building on the far edge of town. At one time it had been used by loggers as a sawmill.
As he ran down the potholed street leading to the old mill he felt a sudden loss and Candy’s cries stopped abruptly. “God, no!” He muttered as he ran pell-mell down the street, dropping his guitar case and shrugging out of his backpack as he went.
The building itself had been neglected over the years; the timber was rotten and the paint had long since faded and peeled leaving it gray and weather-worn. The huge door needed to be forced open and the hinges protested noisily.
“Candy!” he called and he frantically searched the rooms. Only silence met his calls. He entered the main mill room and saw the child. She was tied to a post behind a dismantled saw. The ropes cut deeply into her arms and she had been badly beaten. Blood streamed down her face, her arms, and legs. Her shirt was drenched in blood. A large dark pool spread around her.
Michael knelt beside the tiny girl and removed the ropes. He held both hands and passed his right hand over each wound several times. There was no pulse.
The door banged open and the police raced in. “Hold it! Police! Put your hands in the air.”
Michael ignored them and continued to hold his hand over her chest. A bluish light emanated from his palm to her chest.
“Halt.” The cop said, motioning for the others to gather around the man and child.
Michael continued to focus on Candy. As seconds turned into minutes he felt a slight thumping of her chest as her heart started pumping and was followed by shallow breathing. The police stared in disbelief as he continued to pass his hands over the child. Each injury sealed and disappeared. When he was finished he rose and faced them. He held Candy in his arms. “Look into yourselves for who did this to a child. God will judge each person in their own right.”
For the first time, Michael was at a loss as to what he should do. He could escape quite easily but he was reluctant to hurt those officers who were only doing their job. “Take her to the hospital.” He turned to a young officer on his right and handed Candy to him.
He held his hands out, palm up and close together. “I’m ready. Do what you must.”
The cop approached him and slipped the handcuffs on. “I tried to warn you,” he whispered.
“I know, Officer Carter.”
The cop began reading him his Miranda rights as they walked from the building. “They’re going to hang you out to dry, Michael. This town is corrupt.”
“I know. But, if you knew this, why didn’t you expose it?” His steady gaze caused the cop to look down at his feet.
“I have to live and work here. You obviously don’t have that restriction.” He took a deep breath, “Look, I’m sorry I can’t be of more help to you. . .” he slipped his hands into his pockets.
Michael glanced down at his feet and then lifted his gaze back up. His voice was calm and soothing as he spoke, “It’s alright. I have a feeling I’ve already lost this battle and I’ll have to face the people, angry, ignorant, foolish people who have let their fears and greed turn them away from me and what God has to offer. They want the easy fix the dark side and Apollyon, offer.” With those last few words, his voice took on an angry tone showing his frustration. The cop took a step back from him as though he could feel the warrior coming forward from the young man. Michael stared stonily as he watched the cop back away from him toward the door.
Judith arrived at the hospital and rushed to the bed. “Candy!” she cried.
“Mama!” Candy held up her arms. “Michael saved me. He fixed me.”
“Don’t talk about that man.”
“Mama, Michael saved me. I want Michael. He needs my help.”
“You are never going near him again.”
“He’s a bad, bad man. He hurt you.”
“No Mama, Michael saved me.”
“Candy, the police found him with you. He had his hands on you.” Judith gazed with dismay at her child.
“He saved me. He brought me back. Michael is good.”
“No Candy, he isn’t. He is evil.”
“Hey, you.” A guard unlocked the cell door on the morning of the trial.Michael sat on the gray cot. His head was in his hands. At the sound of the guard’s voice, he looked up. “Yes?”
“Time to go. You’re gonna get the book thrown at you. What ever made you get such a dumb idea? Paradise . . . or whatever it is you sang about a few weeks ago. Ha! There is no such place, you fool” He placed the handcuffs on and then stood aside to let him step out into the hall.
“If you really believe that, then you are the fool, not I.”
The guard grabbed his arm and led him down the hall toward the door. Michael paused a second at the door before plunging ahead into the crowd. The people turned their angry faces toward him and surged forward engulfing the prisoner and cops. They slammed fists at him and pulled his clothing as he tried to protect himself. The cops used their batons to push the crowd back. “Kidnapper!” Some yelled. “Child abuser!”
At the police car he turned to face them. His quiet composure caused the crowd to stop in their tracks. Standing there, he hardly looked like the criminal they were making him out to be. He had strength within that suddenly made them stare at him with unease as if they were overcome by guilt. Without a word, the prisoner entered the car.
Michael was led into the packed courtroom. The charges were read and he was asked to plead guilty or not guilty.
He stood and walked forward, “Your honor, I would like to say a few words.”
Facing the audience he began, “I know how this will turn out.” His sea green eyes coolly gazed at the people. “You see, I am a stranger in this town. When a violent crime is committed, people always blame the stranger. The verdict will be that I am guilty. That doesn’t bother me.” He paced the floor.
There was a collective gasp from the audience as he changed from a young man to a warrior in God armor. He stood in front of them wearing a simple belt of truth and cloth tunic. His body was protected by a gold and silver breastplate of righteousness. His feet adorned a pair of scandals for peace. The silver shield of faith leaned against his left leg. A silver sword lay sheaved by his side. The helmet of salvation sat perched on his head but did not cover his hair which whipped around him fanned by unseen flames. He clutched a wooden staff with his handcuffed hands. Large golden brown wings sprouted from his back.
“I am puzzled by your attitude. Why not look deep within yourselves to reveal the true criminal? Nearly all of you have turned against me and what I have to offer. Don’t you realize that if you, and everyone in your world continues to do what you are doing now, to fight, to kill, and all the other things that are prohibited in the Bible, you will destroy yourselves? It may not be now, but eventually you will turn your Souls over to Apollyon the destroyer. What I have tried to do here is to get everyone to believe in me and in doing so to truly accept God. Doing that one thing will result in changes leading to paradise. Sure, I could force you to do anything, but that. That you have to accomplish of your own free will and desire to live in paradise.”
He stabbed the floor with the staff. Blue, green, and red sparks shot from the staff. The blue sparks hit seven people, while the red sparks hit a couple dozen and the green shot through the rest of them. Those hit by the red sparks dropped to the floor and their bodies turned to cinder. Where they had stood or sat wisps of smoke curled into the air and scorch marks surrounded their ashes. The people struck by the green bolts cried and tried to leave but found themselves immobile.
“My God is a righteous God. The sinners will be punished.” He said as destruction fell around them. “Who tried to kill this innocent child has been judged and will spend eternity in purgatory. I am sorry that you will not listen, for what I have offered you is indeed paradise, and yet, always you try to destroy me. I can see now that you are not yet ready for everlasting life, therefore, the rest of the world is not ready either. I’m sorry for you. Perhaps I’ll be back in a hundred years when humans might be ready, that is, if it isn’t too late.”
He turned his back to the people. The handcuffs clanged loudly as they hit the floor in the now strangely silent courtroom.
“Candy, are you ready?” he held out his hands.
She lurched away from her mother. “Candy, stop!” cried Judith. “Don’t go! He’s bad! Candy, come back here right now!” She fought to grab the child but remained immobile.
Candy looked back at her mother, a split second of indecision crossed her face before she turned and ran to Michael, who picked her up and held her close.
“I told you, they couldn’t hurt me,” he whispered. “Liza? Tom? Edna? Gerald? Officer Carter? Father Juan? Please join us.”
Four of them stepped forward and joined hands with Candy and Michael. “Michael, I think I would be of more use here. I believe I can help people see the way,” Officer Carter said and stepped forward to shake his hand.
Father Juan stepped forward and clasped Michael’s hands, “I am afraid I must remain behind also. There is a lot work for God that I can do here.”
“As you will,” Michael replied and handed him a simple crucifix. “Keep this with you always. God will watch over you until we meet again in heaven.”
Gabriel and Israfil appeared at their side. All eight began to fade from sight leaving the courtroom in stunned silence as they viewed this strange phenomenon, and in chaos minutes later as a few hysterical people sprang forward from their seats and others wept for the land and life they would never see or live.
The townspeople settled back into their daily routines, the rate of crime started to climb again, the mayor and police chief both perished in the courtroom. An honest man was elected as the new mayor. Office Carter became the chief of police. Together they launched an investigation into town council corruptness. Judith went to work at the local church and became a foster parent.
To all outward appearances the town has forgotten the stranger, yet, even now, on a clear night, long after the sun has set, the people hear the rustle of a leaf, the ghost-like footsteps falling softly on the pavement, the squeaking of a park bench, the first plaintive strains of a guitar melody, a child’s laugh, and the haunting voice of the Dream Weaver.
Copyright © Traylor Grant 2015 all rights reserved.
The right of Traylor Grant to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 Second publication as an e-Book by Traylor Grant using Nook Press US Nook Edition.
Grant, Traylor (2015-10-15). The Dream Weaver: Into the Mystic Series Book 1. Traylor Grant. Nook Ebook and Paperback Edition.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. 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 express written permission from the author / publisher.
The Dream Weaver: Into the Mystic Series Book 1is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. It is a fantasy story involving the Archangel Michael. Although there are various religious aspects to the novel, it is in no way intended to replace, supplement, or otherwise affect religions, religious beliefs, teachings, or practices. Nor, it is intended to offend any religion.
The Dream Weaver: Into the Mystic Series Book 1 is in no way intended for anything other than a fictional story involving the Archangel Michael. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. If the content of this story offends anyone, the author is truly sorry, but reminds the reader it is a work of fiction and as such certain literary licenses may have been taken to tell the story.
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