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Archive for the ‘Mystery, Intrigue’ Category

HAVENWOOD TALES ~ BEGINNINGS 

“And as predictable as the cycles of the moon, you felt immensely alive and fortified in his presence, imbued somehow with your own capacity for higher understanding . . .”

Mister Walling was a world of his own.  And he was different from anyone anywhere I’ve been since the days of Havenwood . . .

Truth be told, I rarely ever saw him. It happened in the course of my living that the journey itself would absorb me more than my quest for truth.  And yet Gabriel White Cloud Walling became an indelible part of my life, as necessary as my dreams and the ground I walked on . . .

He never intimated there was anything out of the ordinary about his appearance.  And I really enjoyed looking at him.

His condition seemed so natural, it never occurred to me to ask if there might have been strange circumstances. Or an accident at birth. Or any other meat-brained question I already knew wasn’t the answer.

And because he conducted himself as a quiet and unassuming, good-humored creature and I’d heard no one complain or say he was odd, it seemed to me, initially, that folks around Havenwood had accepted him for the miracle he was—until I realized that he was never spoken of.

Miracle of Spirit

Photocanvas by D.J. Houston

The best I could track, Mister Walling had lived deep in the same patch of woods past the north shore of Silver Bear Lake for well over half a century before I even met him.

He didn’t seem to me to be what folks could call a bona fide recluse; he just preferred to keep to himself, choosing his people and causes of his own accord.

Hindsight might prove that his legacy lived in the stories he shared with a privy few of each new generation. And that those whose lives he touched would know in their hearts that a visit with Mister Walling promised them, if just for a moment, a freedom from the stream of time—something sacred, eternal and true.

“But the reason he seemed so special to me as a child was that whenever you arrived to him, he already knew why you were there.  Whether you knew why or not . . . ”


   Excerpts from HAVENWOOD TALES Beginnings

D.J. Houston, Author

Copyright©2006, 2016 D.J. Houston. All Rights Reserved.

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Mystery Novel – Life Journey – Paranormal Intrigue – Visionary Fiction – Inspirations

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A new peek at the novel HAVENWOOD TALES Beginnings by Author, D.J. Houston

Continued from Havenwood Tales Surprise – Gabriel White Cloud Walling

 “I like all your names, Mister Walling,” I assured him, and that pleased him very much.

Havenwood Endless SummerThen he told me the story of a loyal Irish setter named Buddy. And how, when he was a boy, Buddy laid down one day and never got up.

He told how his father had lumbered off on a spotted mule with Buddy’s body draped behind him over the mule’s rump.  And for seven years after, a bright orange butterfly flitted and danced above the cornfields where Buddy and he used to race the sun together.

Mister Walling never said life goes on. And all I did was listen . . .

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From the novel HAVENWOOD TALES Beginnings by Author, D.J. Houston

Poplar Tree Blossom

“Be sure you’re back before suppertime, please, Trudie Beth.”

Mama’s gentle reminder faded behind me into the lines of thirsty sassafras and yellow-blooming poplar trees on the north shore of Silver Bear Lake.

I was off to meet my destiny.

Drawn by the gift of instinct and trails of friendly bellflowers smiling at me from their delicate, bending stems, I trekked waist-deep through a grassy field and found myself in a vast wildflower meadow, spread around me like the fragrance of wonderland . . .

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From coming novel HAVENWOOD TALES Beginnings

D.J. Houston – Author

Mother Nature's MysteryMother Nature does a lot of things right — but this was most decidedly not one of them.

No sooner had a warm spring wind chased the last traces of snow into the forest floor than a lightning storm whipped up off the Ohio River and rumbled over us, like an irate god, without a drop of rain.

Then the fire broke out at Jasper Peterson’s salvage yard, threatening to burn the whole place to the ground and a century of trash and treasure with it . . .

A cacophony of church bells started ringing in the distance. And I knew my daddy had to go . . .

C L I C K  T O  R E A D  E X C E R P T:

“Mystery Novel – Mother Nature Father Time”

Copyright©2008, 2013 D.J. Houston. All Rights Reserved.

Mystery Novel Intrigue – Paranormal Stories – World War II Life Journey – Coming of Age 

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A glimpse at the novel HAVENWOOD TALES Beginnings by D.J. Houston

Painting by Michael Lang

I don’t want to believe in monsters and scary things in the night like other kids do, Mama.”

Her response was calm and earnest.

“There are monsters in this world, Trudie Beth.  That’s a fact.  But people don’t want to see them. . .

“The goodness of human nature makes it hard to look at evil’s face.  So people make up stories about monsters instead.”

While I cogitated that, she added, “Sometimes they do it for fun.”

That made me smile, so she went on . . .

C L I C K  for “The Truth About Monsters”

Copyright©2010, 2012 D.J. Houston. All Rights Reserved.

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Magical Mystery – Paranormal Stories – Social Commentary – America Literature Treasures

 

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I hadn’t pictured my mother away from her home and work routines since the factory days of the war.  But this peaceful, natural setting seemed to suit her to her core.

I realized she’d brought me here for a reason.

C L I C K   for MORE 

From HAVENWOOD TALES Beginnings

D.J. Houston, Author

Mystery Novel – Coming of Age – Inspiring Stories – Life Lessons – American Literature Treasures

Copyright©2010, 2012 D.J. Houston. All Rights Reserved.

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~ from the novel HAVENWOOD TALES Beginnings

“Curiosity might kill a cat eventually, but I was incorrigibly willing to risk such things . . .”

Apparently, the gods of curiosity were destined to call upon me again — only this time to investigate a different class of enigmatic stuff.  But it quite enchanted me.

So off I flew, into what was left of my summer of junk and treasure, to excavate signs of an ancient world — like arrowheads and beads of shell and little, carved hardwood totems.

Sometimes I’d find a rotting weapon handle or a fishing spear or such, washed up in the mud of a creek bank.  And always clay vessels and pottery shards with faded, pigment markings and whatever Native rarities I could scrape from the hills and fields of Havenwood or reclaim from the secret woods that nestled our community. . . (more…)

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