THE LEGEND OF SPARROW Paperback – New Release: 20 Mar 2017

 THE LEGEND OF SPARROW Paperback – New Release: 20 Mar 2017

 I had come back to spend time with Laura. I could not tell her my real reasons. That I was afraid of leading the Dream Killer to her. Or I was not sure even whether I was coming back in the end, so I had wanted to see her one more time. She asked me about the Bear Killer who had been my Uncle and so I told her as we sat in the quiet of the evening and talked… I thought a moment, gathered my thoughts, and then began to speak to Laura. “I Knew Benjamin from my father’s side of the family. My grandmother was Blackfoot. She came from Canada with my father and my uncles and aunts. My father was the baby of the family. He looks Indian. Black hair, facial markings. So do most of my uncles, Benjamin excluded.” “Benjamin is not a blood uncle; he is an uncle by marriage to my Aunt Ethel. He is a full blooded Irishman who married my aunt, gave up his Christian religion and has never looked back. If he could have ended the civilized world with a wish and turn it all back to the old ways, he would have. I’m not that dramatic but there are days when I can see his reasoning.” “Benjamin Bear Killer knew the myths and legends. He understood more than some of my blood uncles did. They would go to him to learn. They saw him as one of the Enlightened Teachers.” “Enlightened Teachers are something that the creator has given to us. They guide us. They teach us to respect the world, the Earth Mother. Teach us the legends and myths that we need to know. When my dreams became too much, too real, Benjamin Bear Killer came to me.” Laura nodded for me to continue. Bear crossed to the fireplace, yawned, curled up and rested his head on his paws. “I had mentioned the dreaming to my mother, and she had spoken to my Aunt. My aunt had spoken to Benjamin and he had come to see me. Benjamin saw it as duty. It was part of what the creator made him to do, he said. At that time I wasn’t sure but now I believe that he is exactly right. Who knows what would’ve happened to me if not for the guidance and the stories he gave to me. Knowledge is meant to be used, he told me, why would anyone go to a Bear fight without a knife? A strange analogy maybe. But he wasn’t called the Bear Killer for nothing. So it made some sense to me.” Bear yawned. “Benjamin told me the legends first…….” “In the beginning the Creator made a way to the peoples that will always be open. First Woman, The Clan Totems, the Star People, were all able to communicate, and they are still able now, up to this day and beyond, until your days cease you will have a pathway to that knowledge. A way to reach all that is possible. You hold the keys to all that is within yourself. We all do…” “This is how the Creator came to make that way open for us, Benjamin told me.” Laura nodded, curled her feet under herself and settled in to listen. “We were in a sweat lodge at the time. One Benjamin had built with the help of my Uncles and Cousins. So many used it though that we had to check first to see if it could be used.” “The Owl Woman’s Society uses it,” he told me. “That meant nothing to me. At least nothing concrete. I had known my mother belonged to the Owl Woman’s Society. I didn’t know what they did: Where they met. What they decided. How important they were to each other, to us, to the well being of our people.” “We settled into the sweat lodge and Benjamin began to tell me the legend of the Dreamer’s Way… What came to be known as the legend of the Sparrow…”


This Material Is Protected by Domestic and International Copyright law

This Content has NOT been edited for language



THE LEGEND OF SPARROW

The Legend of Sparrow Copyright © 2017 by Wendell G Sweet all rights reserved foreign and domestic.

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your bookseller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

LEGAL

This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places or incidents depicted are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual living person’s places, situations or events is purely coincidental.

Parts of this novel are Copyright © 2009 and 2010 Wendell Sweet. No part of this book may be reproduced by any means, electronic, print, scanner or any other means and, or distributed without the author’s permission.

Permission is granted to use short sections of text in reviews or critiques in standard or electronic print.


In The Sunlight:The Book of Memories;

Laura

The old truck bounced and then bumped down off the road and into the yard. It slowed to a stop just beyond the porch. The motor popped and belched unevenly as an old man climbed down from the cab, smiled our way and then walked over closer to the porch. The truck continued to pop and idle choppily behind him.

“Miss,” he said. His eyes fell to Bear. “Fella,” He added. He took off his old fashioned hat, beat it against his leg to remove the dust, smoothed it out and then placed it back upon his head. He cleared his throat. “Dry,” he said.

“Could I offer you water,” I asked?

“Please… If you would be so kind.”

I left, but Bear stayed behind. On all fours. Body stiff. He wasn’t growling, but he wasn’t accepting either. Nothing had changed when I returned with a cold glass of water a few minutes later.

He drank the water down in one gulp. Wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his white button-down shirt and then thanked me.

I waited.

He looked down at the ground. Kicked at a small stone he had found there. Checked the sun in the sky.

“What is it I can do for you,” I asked at last.

“This is a nice place,” he said in response. “Ingenious. Unbelievable. I wouldn’t have thought of it, Miss.” He met my eyes, reached into one pocket and pulled an envelope from it. He handed it to me. I was reluctant to take it, but after discovering no good reason not to I took it. “He sent it,” the old man added.

I looked at him.

“He,” he repeated

I flipped the envelope in my hands. ‘Laura’ in bold script on one side. Nothing else. I slipped the envelope into my back pocket and leveled my eyes on him. “What else,” I asked?

He shrugged. “I’m to wait for a response.” He scuffed the paint on the lower step that lead to the porch but made no move to climb the steps to the porch. He said nothing else.

I sighed inside, but I pulled the envelope from my pocket, levered one fingernail under the glued down flap, and ripped the top open. A small single sheet of lined notepaper resided inside. I had seen that paper before: Joe’s notebook. It was folded in half. I opened it. Joe’s close script graced the page.

Laura,

    I can’t come to you. I can’t explain it. The messenger is a dreamer I trust. I think you know him too. Whatever you do don’t leave there. I cannot promise how long I will be gone, but I can promise I will come for you just as soon as I can,

Joe

The old man cleared his throat, lifted his eyes from the ground and looked at me.

“You can take a message,” I asked him.

“I can,” he agreed.

“You know where he is?”

“Well, not exactly… I know where part of him is.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I cannot go to him. Where he really is, but I can dream to him.” He paused. “Write what you want to say on that paper. I can get that paper to him. That I can do. And I won’t read it either. I promise you that. Your man has a bit of a fight, alright.” He looked up at the sun in the sky. “I guess you both do. There are some of us who will help when we’re asked… When we can, Laura… Right now this is what I can help with. It’s what I got. You say what you got to say… Write it out and I’ll get it to him.” He nodded his head vigorously when he finished as if to assure himself.

I thought he had to have come from Joe. No other dreamer knew my name. No one knew where this place was. Maybe if he came himself he would be like that beacon he had talked about. I took the paper into the house, found a pen and scratched out a quick response. Re-folded the paper again, and took it back out to the old man.

“What do I call you,” I asked him as I handed him the small slip of paper. He slipped it into his front shirt pocket.

“Some call me Bear Killer,” the old man said slowly.


Check this out with a FREE Preview! Click Here

Check out the authors: Wendell SweetGeo Dell


#Earths Survivors #End of the world #Apocalypse #Dystopian

177total visits,1visits today