Posts Tagged ‘Self Awareness’

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

“I had shifted time across a line that wasn’t there, into a place of such enchantment I could only gasp and close my eyes as the feeling of arriving somewhere I had always hoped for, having no idea what I would find, engulfed my world . . .”

The scent of warm bark gripped my nostrils, anchoring me, reminding me to breathe . . .

I gathered up my gumption and with the dauntless faith of youth, strode purposefully across the clearing, assuring myself that a cool drink of water from the pristine creek running back of the cabin should be reason enough to knock on the door for permission.

It was not until I reached the stairs leading up to the porch deck that doubt began to enter my calculations . . .


Excerpts from the coming novel HAVENWOOD Tales Beginnings

Copyright©2006, 2013 D.J. Houston. All Rights Reserved.

Paranormal Mystery Story – Native Americans – Inspirations – Secrets of Gifted Children


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PART II of  the excerpt from HAVENWOOD TALES Beginnings– “Spring in Heartland America”



I must say, I had the most godawful urge to stick my tongue out at spiteful old Miss Hickey, the Latin teacher. Her mission in life since before she was born had apparently been to hate anything and everything new and different; that much seemed obvious. But I’d figured out enough about human nature to know that it probably wasn’t really me she was mad at. I just didn’t know who.

I did put an end to her using me for a firing range, though. Daring, considering she had that willow switch hidden under her desk. But it was easy!

One day, I hung outside her classroom door with my arms stacked full of fresh library books till she sniffed me out. And when she huffed over to shoot me the daggers, I just gave her my goofiest grin.

Now, nobody EVER smiled at Miss Hickey. So after both her eyes popped out of her head and rolled on the floor like gumballs (. . . that’s how I saw it, anyway), needless to say, she never bothered to glare at me again. Blame it on the power of imagination, if you like.  But, hey — Mission accomplished.

In that glorious Spring before I turned seven, little could suppress my urge to learn. I had given myself free rein.

With reading treasures I culled from Havenwood School’s library and the books of her own Miss Greenlee loaned me — books filled with beautiful illustrations and intriguing photographs that could tell their stories without even needing words — the whole new world Mama promised me when I first started school was mine to explore every day.

Through books, I could marvel at masterful statues in London and Greece, canal boats in Venice, four seasons in Paris; explore Ireland’s pastoral sheep farms, and scamper with wild goats in the Scottish Highlands.

Aboriginal Dreamtime

Aboriginal Dreamtime

I could wonder at the linear depictions of skinny Egyptian queens and kings and track the hieroglyphic stories of their lives. I could listen to Dreamtime Story spirits of Australia’s Aboriginal people, and feel the throbbing rhythms of African Zulu warriors dancing the hunt as their pictures came alive for me. And I could dream of my life’s journey carrying me across the vast oceans of earth, to make friends with fascinating people in foreign lands.

Through books, I became enthralled with the art and culture of my Native American ancestors, and amazed by the genius of Renaissance Men in America. Benjamin Franklin, George Washington Carver, witty Samuel Clemens with his pen name, Mark Twain, all spoke to me. 

And I would later come to know the Founding Fathers of my nation, and realize–after the dark years that followed my own generation’s folly–how much the character of these great men and others of their ilk helped shape a Neo-Renaissance awakening.

And in my youth, their foresight, will and wisdom inspired me to believe in my ability to help in this world, and fueled my determination to visit my friend Mister Walling again, even if it had to be a secret . . .

C O N T I N U E D C L I C K  for Surprising Part III

Author D. J. Houston

Copyright©2011, 2014 D.J. Houston. All Rights Reserved.

Magical Mystery – Social Commentary – Coming of Age Story – American Literature Treasures

Founding Fathers

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“. . . the magic of that last, abiding summer of my freedom before the era of my schooling years began was too often lost in longing to see Mister Walling . . .”

INSPIRATIONS from the novel HAVENWOOD Tales Beginnings

by Author, D. J. Houston

For all its endless sunny days and amazing Milky Way nights, the magic of that last, abiding summer of my freedom before the era of my schooling years began was too often lost in longing to see Mister Walling.

It took more miles than I could walk in a day to reach his secluded cabin and still make it back home before dark.  But I didn’t dare ask anyone to drive me there.  I had decided that his and mine was a private friendship, and revisiting his world would be a journey I would have to make alone.

And although I would cling to my childhood for as long as I could get away with it, that decision marked a clear beginning of the end to it for me . . .


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

(This excerpt follows “Common Sense Freedom – Heartland America“)

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

Mama’s gentle reminder faded behind me into the line 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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