MANAWYDAN
by
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The quiet and stillness of this Halloween night was shattered by the flash from a five-fingered bolt of lightning across the skies, followed by the
deafening roar of thunder. The still waters had erupted like a volcano exploding from the sea floor. The waves tossed the ship around; it was a leaf
caught in the spin of a drainpipe, sucked down and spit out, only to repeat the process again and again. Tremendous tongue-shaped waves licked across
the deck of the ship, washing anything not tied down overboard. A thick fog engulfed the ship; seeing your hand in front of your face was impossible.
Lightning struck the five masts holding the enormous sails, ripping them to shreds. The mighty masts gave way under the force of the storm, sounding
like branches breaking from trees in a forest. The rigging held tight, causing the broken pieces of mast to swing across the deck of the ship. These
giant pendulums all moved at different speeds and directions, each one searching for a victim to knock overboard. Several crewmen met their fates while
lingering on deck, innocently watching evening unfold.
Below deck, the drunken mutineers were so wrapped up in overpowering the captain that they had not yet realized the ship was hit by a storm…the storm.
It was the type that legends were made of, the type bragged about in one hole-in-the-wall bar after the other, from one seaman to another. The
mutineers had charged the captain’s cabin, led by the second in command, Barkley.
He had long awaited his chance to take over the ship, and tonight, he would get that chance. The mutineers yanked the captain away from his notebook
entry in midsentence. The captain was bound with chains—most
befitting for him to be enslaved in such a manner, since he had ruthlessly done so on many occasions to others. The mutineers dragged him from his
cabin, as he kicked, screamed, cursed, and threatened their lives.
“We’ve got your ass now,” shouted Barkley. “We know you’re behind all the deaths and the missing crewmen. You might not be this Phantom, or whatever
the hell it is, but you damn sure know about it, and we be thinking you got it hid some place aboard ship. Now tell us where it is!”
Lobett laughed and said, “Not to worry, mate, it’ll be finding you, and real soon, too!”
The storm was fierce, but even the forces of nature could not compare to the savagery that was about to be inflicted onboard ship this night. The crew
was totally unprepared for the viciousness they encountered when
they arrived on deck.
“Follow me men!” shouted Barkley. “Let’s string this bastard up to the mast, give him a taste of his own…” Before he could finish his sentence, a beam
swung from a loose rigging and smashed into him the instant he set foot on deck, decapitating him; another strike sent his body sailing overboard.
The mutineers could not believe their eyes when they looked upon the turmoil that had been released on deck. They had entered another world; they
couldn’t see anything clearly, and as each mate pushed the other aside
to better view the madness, they were sucked into the storm’s fury.
Then, all hell broke loose.
Shadows began appearing on deck from the ship’s hold. Flying objects came slicing through the dark wetness, reflected in spilt-second glimpses during
lightning flashes. Faceless assailants savagely attacked the
crewmen, ripping them apart.
The fury of the storm subsided, allowing the fury onboard to momentarily grab the spotlight. The full moon pierced through the clouds revealing the
ship’s crew in mortal combat with the shadows, which used
anything and everything they could to inflict mortal wounds upon the crew. Screams could be heard into the far reaches of the ocean, but there was
nobody there to hear those screams, nobody there to witness the slaughter. At the height of the action, another combatant joined the massacre, an
awesome killing machine who stalked its prey stealthily, making only abstract grunts and swirling noises, completely devouring each victim, one at a
time. It made no difference if it was a member of the crew or part of the cargo—all were good eating.
As the battle drew to a close, the storm returned to prominence; only this time, it was greater than before.
A whirlwind grabbed the ship, lifting it toward the stormy skies, and another five-fingered bolt of lightning flashed across the skies, striking what
was left of the ship’s mighty masts. The flash of light revealed one sole
outline, standing alone with outstretched arms on the deck of the ship, holding a body. But make no mistake, this lone silhouette was not human.
When the flashing from the lightning and the rumbling from the thunder had subsided, the storm, the fog, and MANAWYDAN were gone.
As if never existing.
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About the Book
An ancient prophecy made by Nubian Queen Hatshepsut, takes generations to fulfill and in the process we follow events through time, space, and disappearances, finally converging in the 21st century where the prophecy continues fulfilling itself.
Oba, an African male-child from the Buganda tribe, was destined to join with Iloree, a female-child from the Yoruba tribe. Their joining was prophesized generations before by the once powerful Nubian Pharaoh of Egypt. But something unholy befalls them before their sacred joining can take place, prompting vengeful curses to be placed on all involved.
Joshua Lobett, a young man distraught over the death of his beloved mother, vows to change the laws of life and death. During the course of his medical studies and experiments, his life spirals into a world of derangement and he creates a hideous inhuman life form.
MANAWYDAN was a specially designed clipper ship for crossing the Middle Passage with its belly full of Black Gold. While on her maiden voyage, MANAWYDAN experienced mutiny, revolt, and a horrific supernatural storm. Then it suddenly vanished dead center of The Devil’s Triangle, only to reappear generations later in the 21st Century.
Greedily turned into a tourist attraction, the netherworld vessel MANAWYDAN had its own demonic agenda, ruthlessly awaiting the innocent, unsuspecting partiers who board in celebration of her Grand Opening during the Queen’s Ball on Halloween night in San Francisco.
About the Author
LāErtes’ life ranged from being forced by an alcoholic stepfather to participate in funeral home embalmings through engineering sound for sellout crowds on the biggest stages across the United States. Out of those personal experiences explodes the gift of storytelling. Storytelling allows LāErtes to reveal his more twisted imagination, delivered in a refreshing style of writing he calls “Minimal-Listic,” meaning: lack of rhetoric, non-redundant, with fewer descriptions in a genre he calls “Horra/Thrilla.” This Minimal-Listic style takes you from point ‘a’ to ‘z’ as directly as possible, via an entertaining story. LāErtes’ goal as a storyteller is not only to entertain the readers, but also spark the imagination of moviemakers. He wants to see the movies from his creations turn out more entertaining than his books. LāErtes creates visual stories that can transition into movies with little or no loss in adaptation. He intentionally leaves room in his creations for the reader’s creativity and imagination to merge with his own and go beyond. One of his greatest pleasures, other than telling a good story, is experiencing an entertaining movie.