Table of Contents
Preface
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Also by Tom Raimbault
The Death Mask
The Mapleview Series – Book 1
Tom Raimbault
Copyright (C) 2011 Tom Raimbault
Layout Copyright (C) 2015 by Creativia
Published 2015 by Creativia
eBook design by Creativia (www.creativia.org)
Cover art by http://www.thecovercollection.com/
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. 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 the author's permission.
Preface
I've sometimes mentioned of having near lifelike encounters with the characters in Mapleview—Amber, Mary, Ekaterina and the likes. (Don't worry; you'll learn about these other characters in later books of the Mapleview series.) Much of this phenomenon of physically encountering them can surely be attributed to my overactive writer's imagination. The phenomenon began by taking notice of women who reminded me of Amber, Mary, Ekaterina and the likes—at least how they would appear in my mind while writing of them. Perhaps it's natural for the mind to place in reality someone who is sorely missed. And perhaps without realizing it, I triggered a self-induced spell of phantasming while writing of Amber.
It might sound like a cool thing. But you see, Amber is terribly aggressive as an author’s phantom. You see; in contrast to the other characters of Mapleview, it isn't enough for her to simply appear in the face of some other woman. She deliberately goes out of her way to interact with me. She'll smile or wave; sometimes nearly get in my face with a friendly greeting. And it didn't take long for me to realize that the physical women involved in this phenomenon were unaware of it.
Amber, by far, created for me the most hauntings while writing of her. She has the power to briefly weave herself in another person for purposes of carrying out her simple will. In short, I have succeeded in inadvertently conjuring up a "familiar spirit" and then watching it possess other people. And if that weren't enough, the thing calls out to me through some telepathic means. I've sometimes been awakened at night from the assumed calling of Amber, wondering where I am at. Throughout the day I fight her invasion of my mental privacy. Amber is persistent. There's a heavy feeling of sadness as she begs me not to abandon her and just give her a chance. She's not as bad as I might believe. Amber urges that she is a really nice person.
Needless to say this is frightening for me. Have I lost my mind? Has writing caused me difficulty in differentiating fiction from reality?
Then came the day when I formulated a solution. Amber needed to be given her own, special place in the forest where I could visit her on a regular basis. Perhaps this would put a stop to weaving herself in nearby people or mentally calling out to me in the middle of the night, asking where I am.
So I found Amber a special, little landscape in the forest and dedicated it to her. A couple times a week I would visit and perform my secret calling. In addition, I would bring pieces of chocolate and leave it in the area so that Amber would feel all-the-more special.
Guess what? Amber was not satisfied with her landscape! Somehow she guided me to a place at the opposite end of the forest and urged me to dedicate that place as our special place.
"Oh, Amber; it's beautiful! I can see why you prefer this area." I exclaimed.
I now visit her in this place and continue to offer my special calling along with gifts of chocolate. In recent days I have brought with wine and decorated the ground with it to intoxicate her spirit and hopefully ease her inhibitions. One morning in the not-so-distant future, I will bring with a red rose; and kiss the petals that are surely as delicate as her sweet lips. The rose will be left in the forest along with the usual gifts of chocolate and wine. Perhaps these simple gestures of kindness will charm and invoke the imaginary spirit of Amber to oversee the success of this Mapleview series, maybe even ensure that it is all-the-more enjoyable for you.
Tom Raimbault
Frankfort, Illinois
September 5, 2011
Chapter One
Distanced by 10.6 miles of a rural highway named Route 4, Sillmac has long been a neighboring community of the charming town of Mapleview. Mapleview was established in the 1830s, but it wasn't until 1872, precisely, that the town of Sillmac established itself. As originally described in The Tree Goddess, Sillmac is similar to Mapleview as it has its share of restaurants, shops and even small museums for the town's yearly tourists. But Sillmac is considered a prestigious area in comparison to Mapleview. Taxes are higher, housing with no set price. Whatever you ask for your home; it will definitely sell as no one can set a price on Sillmac.
The historical residences and places of business have been renovated to eliminate any appearance of decay and maintain that 1870s charm. And just like Mapleview, the town is surrounded by thick, forested wilderness. Many of the preserves have been improved to the point of qualifying as botanical gardens with paved, nature trails outlined in beautiful flowers; countless ponds with lily pads and meditational gardens at the center of flowing creeks.
Make no mistake about it; Sillmac is a town where the elite few reside. And it isn't uncommon for those with happy stories of success and extreme wealth to live in Sillmac. Take for example married couple, Michael and Linsey, and their daughter, Paulette. Michael was founder of the now nationwide chain of hardware stores called Dickly's Hardware. Merely opening his first hardware store in downtown Mapleview, Dickly's hardware soon grew at an exponential rate which rewarded Michael the ability to purchase and own an enormous region of wilderness at the outskirt of Sillmac. In that region of wilderness; he had an enormous, castle-like mansion built for him, his wife and daughter to live in. The very center of the estate is what could be described as a miniature, forested mountain with that castle-like mansion sitting buried under thick trees.
But despite their great fortune, Michael and Linsey would soon see much misfortune on a morning in 1987 when their nine-year-old daughter, Paulette, had a terrible accident that would change her and the family's life forever. Keep in mind that the family lived at the top of a miniature mountain. Paulette had the wild inclination that morning to coast on her bike down one of the sides.
On that morning, she ignored her instincts, feeling that overcoming her fears and venturing down the slope would have made her all the braver along with providing some much needed excitement. With only a gentle push over the edge, an overwhelming force of gravity pulled her faster and faster down the slope. There was no turning back for Paulette as the velocity rapidly increased. She maintained firm hold on the handlebars and stayed in control for a few seconds. But the child didn't anticipate that the landscape would soon turn treacherous not more than halfway d
own the forested slope. A rocky formation with large, moss-colored boulders soon suggested a terrible danger. Naturally, she applied her coaster brake to avoid surfaces that could never be biked on—at least at a high speed.
Despite its reputation for a mild disposition, a timber rattlesnake was startled at the sound of Paulette's back tire that scraped along the soil, kicking up dust while rapidly approaching. The snake had no choice but to strike at whatever danger approached. Its fangs pierced the bicycle's front tires. Paulette had seen the snake's attack and screamed just as the tire popped. She toppled over the handlebars and continued her high-speed descent in the form of somersaults. The only thing on her mind at that moment was whether or not the ugly snake was near. Of course the sensation of branches, occasional leaves and anything else touching her on the ground were believed to be the snake coming to get her. The young girl screamed while desperately trying to get away. This only added to her rapid descent of somersaults.
In reality, the snake lay injured near the bike and was the least of Paulette's worries. She continued to somersault herself out of control until spiraling over a small drop which landed in a region of boulders. This final smash that was fueled by such incredible momentum not only broke her neck and damaged an area of her spinal cord, but caused injury to the posterior inferior frontal gyrus of her brain—more commonly referred to as Broca's region (responsible for speech and language comprehension).
Young Paulette was a mangled up mess, unconscious and bleeding from the head. And how was she rescued in such an isolated area? Mothers have a keen sense of intuition. Linsey received an unusual surge of anxiety at the moment her daughter pushed off the hill. Within a minute her face flushed with a God-awful terror. She knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Paulette was in trouble.
“Paulette? Paulette!” The frantic woman ran along the outside of the castle-like mansion, desperately searching for her daughter. Had someone hiked up the miniature mountain to hide on the forested property with the purpose of abducting the young girl? Ironically, the easiest and most logical slope to hike down while wondering this was the one Paulette descended.
Linsey nervously cried and wiped her tears while hiking down the slope, all the while just knowing that her daughter was in grave danger. Was she descending the right slope? Should she have turned around and looked elsewhere? But some distance down the slope could be seen Paulette's bicycle lying on the ground. Linsey quickly jogged downwards while calling out to her daughter. Finally reaching the bicycle, Linsey took notice of the injured snake that looked to have been run over by a tire. Maybe Paulette was bitten and now lay unconscious.
But no, it was far worse than that! Imagine the shock of seeing your child laying face-first on a treacherous terrain of boulders with a small pool of blood running near her head. Would you grab your cell phone and call for the paramedics? This wouldn't have been possible in 1987, even for the wealthy. There were no cell phones in people's pockets in those days, especially in a deeply rural area. And although Linsey wished to run to her daughter, some part of her knew that every second counted! It was an adrenaline-fueled flight back up the slope that nearly caused a young woman a heart attack.
Broca's region is interesting. Although we label the area responsible for generating speech and understanding language, it really isn't. People who have sustained injuries and damage to this part of the brain have been able to resume speech some months later. It seems that other areas of the brain are capable of taking over whatever responsibility the Broca region has. And you would think that for such a young girl, Paulette would have restored this vital function of generating words. But nothing intelligible could be produced. With only grunts that soon turned to frustration, it was easier to maintain communication with the girl by playing charades and verifying a “yes” or “no” with one blink of the eyes or two, soon to be replaced with nods by the time she hopefully restored use of her neck.
As hoped, Paulette's broken neck healed and regained the ability to move through therapy. But spinal cord damage from some apparent, blunt trauma during the descent had left Paulette unable to move from the neck, down.
Fortunately, Michael and Linsey's wealth allowed at home therapy and some schooling from the finest teachers who specialized in disabled children. But no matter how much therapy was provided for forming sound into talking, Paulette was unable to create intelligible words.
* * *
This tragedy took place only several miles from where Amber lived and grew up. On that morning, Amber would have been a teenage girl of fifteen years old. In Sillmac, many of the homes are independently seated on acres and acres of untamed wilderness, just like Michael and Linsey's home. But Amber's parents lived in the beautifully wooded subdivision of Settler's View that shared a street with other enormous homes that averaged a modest price of $950,000 to just over $1,000,000. This, of course, is being compared with much larger homes (like Michael and Linsey's) that sat on thirty acres or more of wilderness that would go for… well; let's just say much, much more!
You and I can only dream of owning a home in the Settler's View subdivision. And people who live this sort of lifestyle must be very different from you and me. But don't think for one second that Amber grew up to be a spoiled, little brat. Mother made sure that her daughter was a down-to-Earth lady who would have an understanding of those intangible things that are most important in life, while at the same time having an appreciation for what is simple and true. There was, however, one small, negative quality of Amber. The girl had a relentless drive with a Hell-bent intent to get exactly what she wanted. But don't we all possess that quality of desiring what we want to some degree?
The word amber draws to mind a few things. One might think of a woman's name or the fossilized tree resin that makes the precious stone found in jewelry, or perhaps simply a radiant fire. Amber is an interesting color. You cannot precisely identify one color as officially being amber as it includes various shades of orange. And when we say that a woman has amber-colored hair, it could be anywhere from a dark blonde, to a light brown, or possibly a light red.
With a name like Amber, one would expect her to have been born with amber-colored hair. But she wasn't. Amber was born with strands of brown that grew into the most beautiful, long, flowing, light-brown hair that often changed shades throughout the years. Then again, I suppose at times that people might have considered her hair to be amber-colored, being that the color varies throughout different shades.
So just how did Amber get her name? While still in the womb; Amber would often accompany Mother for leisurely strolls through one of the forested paths in Sillmac where Mother had the lovely practice of talking to her soon-to-be newborn. She would stop to rest near an open creek and rub her abdomen while speaking out loud to the baby. This, she believed, would allow the unborn child to bond with her and maybe realize that there was a world outside. And maybe the child understood Mother. But Mother had so many questions—as many new mothers do during pregnancy. She knew the baby would be born a girl. But what would the baby look like? Who would she grow up to be?
One morning, Mother brought with a plastic bowl on the hike, and bent down to her special creek to fill it with water. The bowl was brought home, and the water saved for later that night.
While her husband slept in the late evening hours, she filled the water from the creek into a clear, quartz bowl; then brought it out to the backyard deck where it was set on the table with a candle behind.
An ordinary glass bowl filled with tap water would have been so unflattering in a moment of scrying. Aside from that, she wanted the water from her special creek where she and the baby shared a moment each day. Scrying, in case you are unaware, involves gazing into a crystal ball, or into water, with the purpose of seeking visions. Many find the greatest effect by gazing through the water at a candle flame, or observing the flame through the reflection in the water. It is the objective to put one's self in a trance while maintaining a fixed gaze.
Gazing
at the candle through a quartz bowl that was filled with creek water would have certainly had the greatest effect for visions of her soon-to-be-newborn child. It was truly a powerful moment of scrying. But the only vision seen was the most beautiful, brilliant color of amber. At that moment, Mother decided that her daughter would be named Amber.
So many hopes for her daughter in that powerful moment: Amber would be a most-beautiful woman throughout her life. Perhaps her heart would be great, loving all those around her with a nurturing air, and yet a sense of untamed freedom that would enable her to pursue her dreams, even bring a certain magic into her own family as she would be the very source that kept the home alive. These were the hopes that Mother had for her baby while little Amber resided in the womb.
As a girl, it certainly appeared that Amber was growing up to be all that Mother hoped for. But despite her imposed modesty and earthly beauty, Amber had an unusual gift that was learned at an early age. Amber had the power to get anything desired. It wasn't like a young girl who begs mommy and daddy for that new toy, soon to be those expensive jeans or that new car. The world is full of these high-maintenance, bratty women who have learned to get what they want through badgering and rude behavior. No, Amber remained well-mannered in the face of Mother and Father while keeping knowledge of this unusual gift to herself. She found a true power behind fantasy in which she would harness and channel every emotion she could find and direct it towards her desire until it finally materialized in reality.
She learned just how powerful this gift was on a summer day at the age of eleven when thoroughly fed up with a girl her age who lived next door. Michelle was terribly envious of Amber and hated her to the very core. Being that she despised Amber, she often made critical remarks of just about anything Amber did and said. Amber would laugh and have fun with her friends and then suddenly close off and shut down once Michelle entered the picture. Nothing out of the ordinary could be done and said when in the presence of Michelle. And even while Amber remained still and quiet, Michelle found it appropriate to call out Amber's sudden disconnect.
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