Return to Meadow Wood (eBook)

Sam Rawlins (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2016 | 1. Auflage
304 Seiten
Yorkshire Publishing (Verlag)
978-1-942451-51-8 (ISBN)

Infos

A Return To Meadow Wood is a deeply moving and memorable experience for the reader... A Novel of Hope and Inspiration for All Readers!

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Jack Holden, a veteran with the invisible wounds of PTSD, is on a bus trip when it becomes apparent to him that his life is unraveling. This is the beginning of a journey that will take him from the horrors of war to a small town where he discovers a place of incredible beauty. It is a 'Lost Eden' where the presence of God can be found. Spanning from the Vietnam era to the present, we follow Jack as he crosses the boundaries of life and death itself. Along the way he encounters the awesome fury of nature, pulling him into a place where he must face the even more destructive forces that have woven into the fabric of his mind. It is there his story becomes a profound spiritual experience.

Textauszug

CHAPTER 1

A SOUL’S JOURNEY

The truth of the matter is, I died three days ago. Then I got up from the grave and looked at what my life had been. Something horrible out of my past hung like a shadow over me. It was something I could not run away from nor could I face. Though it tore at me emotionally, I couldn’t even remember the details of what happened. Whatever they were, the emotions were deep and troubling. Taking stock of myself, I felt as though part of my soul had died. What brought me to this conviction?

The doctors at the VA hospital explained it to me: In each of us, a trillion or so cells exist that connect to form a recorded memory of one’s life. In my brain, though, a certain number of those cells have been corrupted, removing significant memory of specific crucial events. Somewhere within the cerebral cortex, the effects of war had damaged my brain. My memory was fractured. Important pieces were missing.

Facing this grim assessment of psychological paralysis, I found the courage to do something I should’ve done many years ago. I resolved to complete some unfinished business, a promise to a dying man. He had been my closest friend. The more I thought about my unkept promise, the more it weighted me down. It was a terrible thing I had done, or rather had not done. The idea of doing something about it was gaining momentum within me.

My life had come to a crossroads. I rose out of this grave of depression and rallied. I found a renewed sense of purpose. It was still not too late to do the right thing. The truth of the matter was that I could do something about my life. In the spirit of new found optimism, I got on the phone and made reservations for a journey across the country. I just knew everything I wanted to accomplish on this trip would make me feel better about myself. Taking this step was the beginning of the single most positive thing I had done in a long time.

During the course of this bus trip, I kept hearing an inner voice. My eyes shut, I thought about the words being spoken inside my head: Everything that had gone wrong in my life might be corrected in this single act of atonement. What was my life worth? It would be of any significance only if I could accomplish something positive, really meaningful.

I was a good and decent man but also a broken man. My long, slow descent into this state had taken place over several years. Depression, that I barely noticed at first, was always with me, lurking somewhere in the back of my mind.

Though I had been firm in my plans at first, a lot still bothered me and weighed heavily upon my mind. The longer I pondered the past, the waning strength of my resolve became more apparent to me. I was wavering, struggling within myself. Such was the eroding nature of the conflict building up inside me. Negative poison had been attacking my brain cells for nearly two decades, far too long. Trying to refocus on my journey, I jolted myself, declaring Enough!

Getting my attention, the bus seemed to go into another gear. The road was becoming steeper, climbing up Winding Stairs Mountain. Reaching the top, it leveled off before beginning its descent.

Trying to escape my inner thoughts, I looked out the window. Up ahead, the sun was suspended just above the horizon. Below it, the highway cut through a thick forest and over a mountain range beyond. As the bus plunged into it, tall trees rose into the heavens on both sides of the road. Thinning out, they soon gave way to a clearer view of the valley below. It was my first glimpse of the little town that lay shrouded in the evening mist of so many years ago.

Scattered pockets of frame buildings became visible and drew my attention. They appeared to have survived the ravages of many decades. Even in the dim light of dusk, the sparsely populated countryside radiated peacefulness. It was like a small rural community locked in a time capsule out of the past.

The sun passed beyond view as the bus turned down a lonely stretch of country road. Rapidly, the sky was turning a metallic gray, getting darker.

February had only just begun, and its chill surrounded everything. Even with the bus’s heat turned on, the cold penetrated deep into my overcoat. Forcing my thoughts inward again, I unwittingly found myself back in those places I had wanted to avoid.

Eating away at me, my self-examination was of such an unrelenting nature it became magnified and made even worse in the strange dark atmosphere surrounding me. I was beginning to have more doubts about everything. My inner strength was slipping away. The bad memories out of my past came rushing back into my mind. These thoughts carried me into a downward spiral. I felt myself unraveling.

On the surface, I thought I appeared quite normal. To the casual onlooker, a quick glance in my direction might not have revealed much beyond the physical. But there was much more to me. I was 39 years old then. Outwardly, I was a man of sharp bone structure. I had been told this accentuated my piercing eyes. I was on the thin side from not eating, tall and dark headed. My hair, though, was not as dark as the thoughts inside me.

I realize now I was a profoundly disturbed person. Memories of unsettling images were going through my mind. These were embedded in both my conscious and subconscious. A nightmare from out of my past had filled my sleep, leaving me with a shaky feeling. I felt the weight of it becoming a heavy pressure upon my chest. The restless ribbon that had been my life was shredding apart. I knew I was not well. Yet, I felt powerless to do anything about it.

A throbbing headache filled my brain. I had gone over and over about my shortcomings, even questioning my worthiness as a man. My feelings of guilt remained with me, constant and unabated. Something grimmer was beginning to take shape within my thoughts. I was becoming suicidal. There could be only one solution. It would be swift and absolute in its finality.

The negative voice had come back. This was what I was most in fear of happening. It spoke to my mind and asked me, Why don’t you end it all? This was not the voice of my conscience, but I still couldn’t get it out of my head. It kept on belittling me, making me feel worthless. A fearful sensation shot through me that I was not alone inside myself. Try as I might, I could never rid myself of this other voice that was haunting me. Rather it was once a month, or once a week, it was always the same voice. Was some sort of demon inside me? I didn’t know. All I felt at the time was a struggle going on between two entities inside my brain, one good . . . one evil.

Getting past it would be a challenge. This other presence inside me persisted and continued whispering to my mind. Badgering me, it got to the point where I couldn’t think straight anymore.

Needing help, my eyes went seeking it, staring into the dark faces of other passengers sitting near me. The shadows of the night created strange expressions on them. In their own little worlds, they all seemed so unaware and oblivious to others. This seeming indifference was overwhelming, making me even more desperate.

As I sat there in my aloneness, the apprehension was building inside me. I thought no one had the faintest idea who I was, that no one cared. But as I looked around, I realized this was not quite true.

On this particular bus, where a group of passengers were brought together in tight quarters for a prolonged length of time, perhaps the prying eyes of someone might linger on me. Then such a person might see the truth of what lay just beneath the mask I presented to the rest of the world.

Sudden movement in the seat directly across the isle caught my attention in that direction. My gaze settled upon the man’s legs extending from the shadows. I was immediately convinced their owner was studying me, even though I could not yet see his face.

Reacting to me, the man leaned forward out of the shadows. He was older, 70 maybe 80, wearing thick glasses. A little smile formed beneath his equally thick mustache. He nodded, then reclined back into the shadows again.

Now I was sure the old man was watching me. What could he be thinking? He hadn’t said anything, but his eyes had given me a strong once over. He seemed to be asking, Who are you? What’s your problem? Of course this was all in my mind. I had looked too closely into the old man’s face and came away feeling intimidated.

I was suspicious, rapidly filling up with even more imagined stress. I could feel my anxieties becoming visible. Fine beads of perspiration formed on my forehead and rolled down my face. A clammy coldness spread down my back, bringing on a more severe chill. I could not suppress it. I started shaking and couldn’t make it stop. Not realizing what was happening, a full-blown panic attack seized me. The thought of what to do raced through my mind.

Marshalling all my force of will, I tried to calm down. It was useless though. I thought I could ride out the storm raging inside me, but I couldn’t stand it any longer.

The voice that was not my own worked its way deeper inside my brain. It gave me orders, telling me what I must do. Its words were more demanding this time, I thought you’d crack up one day. Well, that day is today. Desperate situations require desperate solutions. Take out that thing you have in your pocket. Use it! The words were hypnotic, difficult to resist.

I was chilled to the core, shaking...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 24.6.2016
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Historische Romane
• ISBN-10: 1-942451-51-2 / 1942451512
• ISBN-13: 978-1-942451-51-8 / 9781942451518