A Novel by Kawika A. Stafford

Chapter 22

Officer Bob sat at his desk tapping the eraser end of a pencil on his pudgy forehead. He was tired, but probably more agitated than anything else.

Between that smart ass harwaiian and that redneck who had fell asleep at the wheel of his tractor trailer rig coming into town yesterday.

The truck driver had fallen asleep and ended up killing a resident of Antelope Springs.

Her name was Toni Trusdell.

Officer Bob knew the old lady. She had lived about six trailers down from him. It had been a long week.

Somewhere along the way he had lost his silver bracelet.

The Chief of Police, Shane Edwards had given it to him as a gift.

They were supposed to meet later to discuss an upcoming fishing trip.

Officer Bob knew it was of considerable importance that he locate it; for the repercussions of it not being found, could stir up the pot a bit.

It was quitting time for officer Bob. His belly was growling. Bob had some fried chicken, corn on the cob, and some cold beer at the top of his list of culinary options.

Bob lived in a small travel trailer on the outskirts of town.

He didn’t like people, particularly blacks and indians. Come to think of it, he didn’t like anyone who wasn’t white.

While on the subject, Bob decided to add those Harwaiians to his list as well.

Officer Bob, though not having a penchant for any thoughts of far reaching consequence; splished splashed his way through his puddle of life, wondering now and again, in the disquieting recesses of his mind; if his people were coming the new Indians, the new minority, of this the newest millennium.

It might be his over active imagination,

but his world kept appearing to be getting smaller and smaller.

Karma baby karma, the windward warrior chanted;

as he pounded on the subliminal door leading to officer Bob’s mind.

Copyright 2003 All Rights Reserved #blackeagledream

A Novel by Kawika A. Stafford

Chapter 23

Nikko and little Raye had spent the day and a good part of the evening caring for Sonny Ray. The center of attention now sat at the kitchen table drinking a cup of kava tea. Nikko was exhausted and decided she and little Raye would lay down for some much needed rest. Dwayne and Cyrus were out back in the clearing, starting a fire.

Dwayne received a call from his grandmother. She needed his assistance. Dwayne loaded up his tool box and headed out. He had hoped to be back in an hour or so. Sonny Ray had a really mean headache. The old man had wrapped his ribs, and put fresh aloe on his various scrapes and abrasions.

Having broken a few ribs parachuting in the Army, Sonny Ray had a working knowledge of the pain.

Cyrus had also put a fresh bandage over the sutured gash over his left eyebrow.

Despite all that had happened yesterday, the only thing Sonny Ray wanted to know was; who is this old man, and what does he want?

Sonny Ray’s thoughts drifted back to officer Bob. He was uncertain what impelled a man like that.

There had to be something more a fortiori, than ignorance.

Sonny Ray pondered if it was congenital hatred, something inherited, passed on like a treasured family heirloom.

Or perhaps it was a beast like signal, being sent out over the DNA highway; only to be embraced by those with the same iniquitious ideology.

He did not hate officer Bob, but Sonny Ray felt this man was very much in need of an expanded world view. And he was just the man for the job. It was now officially on his to do list.

For now though, he needed some answers.

Wincing, he stood up slowly, trying desperately not to breathe deeply. He walked across the small kitchen. The floor creaked, singing a retort of sorts. He gently pushed the screen door open, and descended the four steps. Each step caused him to groan within himself. Sonny Ray looked out into the silhouettes of dusk. He approached Cyrus who sat in the clearing alone.

The smell of cedar gently ascended upward, the earthy wood caressing the supple curves of the night.

Sonny Ray walked gingerly out into the clearing. Without a word he sunk down slowly in the chair near the fire.

The flames created illusionary elastic shadows upon the canvas of the starry black lit night.

The black eagle was no where to be found. Sonny Ray sat across the great divide, uncertain what he could believe or trust of any words that might be placed into his ears.
After all, he had abandoned that belief at the age of two, when the most trusted person in his life had savagely scalded his feet and his heart.

Sonny Ray stared into the heart of the flames, searching for veracity and for charge.

“Young man,” Cyrus called across the great divide.

Sonny Ray looked up, a pensive look that distorted the little boy living behind the walls of the protective mans eyes.

Cyrus had lived long enough to know that words were not worth the paper they were written upon; if they were not honored.

A picture on the other hand, could often reveal truth that required little explanation.

Cyrus moved slowly, like a black man living in America that had just been pulled over by the police; hoping not to be shot down just for existing.

Cyrus had a blanket around his broad and weathered shoulders.

He slowly brought his hand out, and in it he held a yellowed and well worn envelope. Cyrus gazed at the young man, his fingers moving slowly with nervous anticipation, coupled by years of imagined rehearsals of this very moment in time. Cyrus reached across the great divide, and gently pulled the young man onto the ground where he stood.

Sonny Ray quietly accepted the yellowed envelope, and leaned back again into his chair.

He pacified the picture by handling it like a newborn baby, fearful of the universal ramifications for not respecting the past.

The orange flames of the fire continued their elastic fancy dance, as Sonny Ray looked resolutely at the picture. It was a small palm sized black and white photo. Right away Sonny Ray recognized a younger version of the man who sat before him. He looked again, and saw a small boy clinging to the pant leg of the tall man with the long wavy hair.

With an incipient thrust, like a calvary sword in the back of a fleeing child,

it involuntarily caused Sonny Ray to bolt upright in his chair. Sweat began to gather and bead up on his forehead. His ribs hurt like hell, he could not breathe. Cyrus placed his hand placidly on Sonny Ray’s shoulder. Despite the pain Sonny Ray exhaled deeply like he was blowing out a candle. He slowly slid the picture into the aged envelope. His emotional gauges were pegged, he was going in; uncertain if he could pull up in time, the ground coming up quick.

Sonny Ray had just buried his father, gotten manhandled by some vainglorious cop, and now a complete stranger had handed him a picture with him in it.

Cyrus, up to this point had said little. “I know this has to be hard on you but I need you to hear me now yeah? Sonny Ray nodded, head down, unable to speak. “First, I would like to give you my condolences on the passing of your father.” Sonny Ray nodded an acknowledgement. It was getting akward but Cyrus knew he had to push through it. “You are a man, so I will speak plainly.” Sonny Ray looked into the large man’s eyes for the first time.

“Your mother and I first met in Kohala. This was in the forties. She, like all young hawaiian girls of her time were separated from her parents, and were forced to attend a boarding school. There, they were stripped of their Hawaiian culture, their language, their familial bonds.

I was a young student teacher at the time. Your mother and I became friends. Over the years we remained so, even after she left the big island and joined the military.” Sonny Ray winced in pain.
“I recall my mother talking about a hawaiian man she wished she had married when she was younger. I take it you are that man.” A long pause of silence ensued. “I am,” Cyrus said.

“The moment I laid eyes on you I knew you were not my dad’s brother,” Sonny Ray said smiling.

There was yet another quiet moment between the two, as neither man was enjoying this small block of time.
“So, what is it you have to tell me?” Sonny Ray asked straight away.
“As you are aware, your father was not a very discreet man.” Sonny Ray cracked a short lived smile.

“You’re right about that, but I need you to tell me what I don’t know.”

Sonny Ray locked eyes with Cyrus. “Okay. Your mother begged me to come to Ohio to see her while your father was in England for a year. You recall that I’m sure.” Sonny Ray nodded. “Your mom had caught your father with yet another woman. So when he left to England it was not under the most favorable of circumstances. We, we ended up becoming lovers.” Sonny Ray stood up. He walked out further into the clearing.

The stars shone brightly in the sky. Sonny Ray walked back slowly and approached Cyrus. “So why are you telling me this now old man?”

“Sonny Ray, I am your biological father.” Sonny Ray looked intently at Cyrus.

Sonny Ray’s breathing became labored. Sonny Ray turned and drifted back to the darkness and stood alone in the clearing. The large ponderosa pines towered over him. Cyrus stood up and walked into the clearing locating the young man. “I have made a couple of pallets in the hogan. Perhaps we could talk more there.”
Sonny Ray and Cyrus walked a short distance to the hogan.

The rich scent of the earth, the dirt floor of the hogan flooded his senses. It gave him an unusual feeling of calmness.

The low roof, and the shape and size of the hogan gave Sonny Ray the semblance of being in an embryonic state again; wrapped in a protective earthen womb.

The two men would talk more now.

Copyright 2003 All Rights Reserved #blackeagledream

A Novel by Kawika A. Stafford

Chapter 24

1965 turned out to be a good year. That was the year that Sonny Ray learned how to fly. He had attended a private school to learn. As it turns out, no one else knew about it because its founder, and flight instructor was only five years old. Sonny Ray had discovered his hidden talent in Japan, while dreaming in his bed one night. He lived on Misawa Air Force Base with his family. Sonny Ray called his school the run, bounce, and fly school of Japan.

While his father fought bravely in Vietnam on behalf of politicians, and drug traffickers the world over,

Sonny Ray honed his fledgling flying skills. After school, he would walk the steep hills of the Air base, storing the breadth and the length of these mighty air strips in his mind. This was done in the hopes of glorious flight come bed time. The premise for flight was simplistic in nature. In order to get air, thus freeing yourself to fly wherever it is you wished to go, you first had to run very, very fast.

Secondly, it was the head flight instructors opinion that success could be acheived by running downhill on the aforementioned steep hills. The next stage of flight, and perhaps the most crucial, was the bounce. It was all about timing really.

When Sonny Ray grew up he recalled that his flight school protocol very much mirrored the track and field event of the triple jump, you just had to feel it. When you did, and you found that sweet spot on your board; you were up and away, cruising the perilous skies of yesteryear. In his diminutive, and inexperienced tenure in life, and in flight,

Sonny Ray made the grievous error of attempting flight after consuming great quantities of his mom’s world famous spaghetti and meat balls.

There was something about the properties of pasta that caused his night visions, his dreams, to have the ability to at times be extremely prodigious. Sonny Ray began his first flight as he usually did; by promptly crashing. Not one to be easily deterred, Sonny Ray got that look of teeth gritting determination, because this five year old kid was born to run, to bounce, to fly!! Sonny Ray hit his mark and in the blink of an eye he was airborne.

However, this flight on this night, would easily by far be the scariest flight to date. Upon gaining altitude the five year old Sonny Ray immediately felt like his body had become powerless. Even with his arms and legs extended out in super hero mode, he lacked the ability to control in what direction of flight this dream was leading him to.

Sonny Ray could see that he was being led away from the Japanese archipelago, and out to sea.

Sonny Ray made several attempts to steer himself back in the direction of where his family lie sleeping. But to no avail. Being so far from land Sonny Ray grew weary from the struggle.

Flying over the pacific ocean, the yellow moonlight penetrated the soft and shimmering surface of the sea, dispersing its translucent light in a sensuous pairing of effectual creation.

The light comforted the young boy, and his body began to relax. Sonny Ray looked ahead, and he thought he saw a big mountain jutting out of the sea. The little boy was sure he had spotted land. The closer he came to land however, the more he knew he was not in Japan anymore. Even at his young age he knew the power of dreams. His tūtū had taught him that.

His grandma was a quiet soul, dignified, a hawaiian woman from a different era.

In the distance the little boy could see lava erupting out from Kīlauea, rising up a thousand feet into the darkened skies, flowing relentlessly to the sea, preparing for an epic battle with an ancient enemy.

It had not been quite a year since his grandmother had died. Sonny Ray spotted his uncle Walter’s house. The black eagle dream circled his grandma’s house, but continued on, gradually drifting east. Sonny Ray soon realized the giant predator had landed in the Imiola church cemetery. Many of his relatives were buried here. His grandma had died of cancer right before the little boy’s father had received his orders to Vietnam. In the corner of the cemetery where his grandmother had been laid to rest a year prior,

Sonny Ray observed her aluminum casket as it laid upon the grass near her headstone, with a large pile of dirt on one side of the casket. The little boy was afraid, but Sonny Ray missed his grandma. He crept slowly toward the open casket. Little Sonny Ray slowly approached the casket, and eventually stood next to his grandmother. She lie in a peaceful state. Her down turned mouth though, made the little boy feel sad.

Without warning his grandma sat up. Sonny Ray shrieked as loud as he could. No one seemed to hear his cries. Then she spoke: “Eia no Sonny Ray, Eia no Sonny Ray,” she cried out in decree. “E huli I wahi ma keia ao. Maopopo wau, ua ‘ike au ka home I loko o ku’u pu’uwai. Ke maopopo he hawai’i au.” Her mele rolled over the little boy like a surfer being pounded in the surf, after being sucked over the falls on a large winter swell on the north shore.

His grandma said: “This is for Sonny Ray, this is for Sonny Ray. Trying to find a place in the world. Now I know, now I see, my home is in my heart, as long as I remember; I am hawaiian.”

Tears flowed down the little boy’s face. He looked up to see a large shadow in the grass of the cemetery. Squinting, he gazed upward, and observed a large dark bird hovering. The trade winds blew softly through the young boy’s long wavy hair. Sonny Ray turned his attention back to his grandmother’s grave; but she, and her shiny casket were gone. The little boy was confused. He sat down on the soft green grass of the cemetery and began to weep.

That mele was a song, a song his grandma had taught him to to sing so that he would never forget where he was from; and to remind him that he not only was kānaka maoli, but was part of a proud culture that was his to learn and to keep if he so chose to.

Sonny Ray missed his grandma. He missed his island home.

The little boy searched the sky. The large predator was gone. The boy was beginning to miss his brothers and sister. He was hungry. He missed his mom. Wind began to swirl lightly in and around the cemetery. The little boy had become weary, and soon fell fast asleep, lying in the lush grass of the cemetery.

A small branch from a nearby tree popped the little boy on the side of his head. It was the branch of a Kukui tree with a kukui nut attached to it. The little boy had awakened, and sat up as he held the branch in his hand, curious now. The kukui nut has many uses in the Hawaiian culture, one being the use of it to burn in lamps. Others believe it to symbolize enlightenment.

The winds began to increase and again, Sonny Ray was struck by yet another kukui nut branch.

This time on his face.

Sonny Ray opened his eyes.

He was slightly disoriented, but Sonny Ray could swear he saw an upside down eagle peering down at him from the window, not five feet from his face. Sonny Ray had slept beneath the open window of the hogan. He arose slowly focusing his eyes in the dimly lit room. In the open window of the hogan sat the largest, blackest eagle he had ever seen. Not only had he never seen one; he didn’t know they even existed. The old man lay still not wanting to interrupt this rarest of introductions.

The black eagle sat with watchful eyes. Something was in its right claw, but Sonny Ray could not tell what it was.

After several moments of reflective introducton, the black eagle maneuvered itself around on the narrow ledge of the window, and leapt out and away; into the cool stillness of morning. Sonny Ray was wanting to observe the black eagle in flight, but as Sonny Ray approached the window, he was drawn to, and became focused on a small green branch on the window ledge. It had arrested his attention, and he slowly reached for the branch. Sonny Ray held it in his hands for several moments, looking at it in utter disbelief.

It was a small branch from a Kukui nut tree.

Sonny Ray looked around in a state of confusion. He needed some fresh air. Sonny Ray zipped up his Carhartt jacket and slowly closed the door of the hogan so as not to disturb Cyrus. It was cold outside but it felt comforting for some reason.

Sonny Ray began to coach himself up. His mind must have been playing tricks on him.

It surely had to be some type of pain induced stress, because there is no way that black eagle had a kukui branch in its claw, no way.

This particular tree is on a short list of places it can be found in the world; and Arizona is definitely not on that list. “Where did that black eagle come from anyway?” Sonny Ray was feeling frantic.

It felt like he had been dreaming all night.

He had some questions for that old man in the morning.

Copyright 2003 All Rights Reserved #blackeagledream

A Novel by Kawika A. Stafford

Chapter 25

“Daddy what is that?” Little Raye asked. The little girl struggled to close the car door. “I got it little lady.” Sonny Ray smiled as he took his daughters hand. After a short walk from the empty and quiet parking lot, Sonny Ray walked to his father’s grave. Sonny Ray noticed something unusual as they were approaching his dad’s headstone. Then he realized his daughter had asked him a question when they were at the car. “I’m sorry honey what did you ask daddy earlier?”

“Oh it was just a big bird flying around. Did you see it daddy?” little Raye asked, looking upwards with her right hand above her eyebrows. “No baby, I missed it I guess.” Sonny Ray and his young daughter stood at the foot of his dad’s resting place.

Sonny Ray stood solemnly, as his only child leaned in close, sensing her father’s sadness. He turned his attention to the inverted cone – shaped pit at the base of the white marble headstone of his father. It was an unusual location to see one. It was perhaps a foot in circumference. Every grain of sand was in place. Sonny Ray smiled.

Now he remembered.

As a kid living in Waimea, his mom and aunty Winnie would take him, his cousins, and his brothers and baby sister down to Kawaihae Harbor to swim and play. All the local kids used to catch ants and drop them into the sand lion pits they would come across. The kids at the beach would gather around to watch with grave intent, as the ants would disappear, soundless into the abyss of sand lion death.

Unexpectedly, little Raye had asked her father for permission to pick a few wild flowers growing near the fence of the cemetery. After explaining cemetery etiquette to his five year old, little Raye went on to embark on one of her first solo adventures.

Sonny Ray turned his attention to the sand lion pit. He started to fill it in with his foot when he noticed a slight movement at the bottom of the pit. A little more sand moved, and then again. He began to scan the immediate area around his father’s grave and began a search for a hard working, blue collar, custodian of the earth type of ant. Finding one, he gently plucked it from the grass. “Sorry partner but you have been selected to be the next contestant on; escaping the sand lions lair,”

Sonny Ray said in his best game show host voice ever.

He spoke at a volume slightly above a whisper so as not to have his daughter question his sanity at a later date.

Sonny Ray carefully placed the ant on the edge of sand lion country. The ant, though perhaps being the hardest worker on the planet, was not necessarily overly keen to the concept of situational awareness. It promptly walked down to the bottom of the pit to face a certain and prescribed end. There. He saw it again.

The dance of death had begun.

Little grains of sand began to move with incidental stir; as the sand lion tied his apron, and began sharpening its sickle-shaped mandibles. The end for Mr. Ant was eminent. Sonny Ray focused his attention to the bottom of the sand lion arena, not wanting to miss a thing.

The sand suddenly began to move violently, as the face of Sonny Ray’s father emerged from the bottom of the pit. Sonny Ray heard himself gasp, as his father’s face; blackened and ashy, was clearly seen. He looked around wildly for his daughter. She could not be found.

A shadow crossed over his father’s grave.

Sonny Ray raised his eyes upward, and saw a large black eagle circling in a slow tight spiral.

He again looked into the pit of the sand lion. Sand continued to cover his dead father’s eyes, but his mouth began to speak. “No he’s not Sonny Ray, no he’s not, I am,

I am Sonny Ray.”

Sonny Ray’s eyes opened suddenly. He was confused and disoriented. Nothing was adding up. Sonny Ray was becoming convinced that as a result of his father’s death, he must be experiencing

some type of psychotic break or episode.

He needed some answers.

Copyright 2003 All Rights Reserved #blackeagledream

A Novel by Kawika A. Stafford

Chapter 26

Officer Bob roamed the streets of Antelope Springs,
the way a hyena cruised the plains of the serengeti, in search of a baby impala’s bones to break.
He navigated easily in town, comfortable in the knowledge that his visage would never be a color bar for him to cross, or cause him any personal discomfort from anyone else.

After all, was he not like Mastercard; accepted and welcome anywhere on the planet?

In his secure height, and in living from day to day, officer Bob wore his malignant intolerance on his sleeve, or perhaps more like a cheap pheromonal after shave.
It had a scent that stimulated a primal response,
and was voluptuous to the nostrils by the majority of his people.

Officer Bob had not seen Dwayne Notah, Mr. Navajo college grad, around town the last couple of days. He was hoping to run into his new friend, Sonny Ray. Instead, he ended up pepper spraying a few homeless guys to kill the rest of his afternoon, but officer Bob was really hoping to find an indigenous impala. He cruised slowly thru the now empty student parking lot of the local college. Officer Bob spotted his baby impala, walking down the lonely sidewalk, near the border of the campus reserve.

Borders however, meant nothing to officer Bob, as he poached the dignity of others, and wore them as invisible scalps on his black patent leather utility belt.

He was a young college student, but an indigenous one nevertheless. With his bullet launcher, and acrimonious rhetoric firmly in place, he exited his cruiser predetermined to shake him up, and put the unchrist like fear of manifest destiny upside his filthy heathen head.

Yes, he opted for the road well traveled; the thin blue line of heritage and hate.

Officer Xenophobia would make the most of this official stop,
to impose his musty, and unseemly manifesto upon any, and all, who dare enter his border, his world, his country.

“This land is your land, this land is my land,”officer Bob whistled as he worked, slamming the young Apache man from White River against the hot hood of his police cruiser.

“‘From California to the New York island, this land was made for you and me,’” officer Bob hissed into the young man’s long hair.

Copyright 2003 All Rights Reserved #blackeagledream

A Novel by Kawika A. Stafford

Chapter 29

Dwayne and Sonny Ray were adrift in the silence of their thoughts. Each man masked their loss behind the veiled notion that if they invested heavily on a sure thing; the low interest rate of denial, then perhaps some how they would gain valuable air miles in the blue skies of tomorrow. However, one only had to read the fine print to know that a good deal, was a farce.

There were no long term, low interest rates, no mail in rebates to be exchanged with the enemy, death.

This grim reality aside, both men could readily appreciate that if there was something that could lift a man’s spirit, it would be the timeless institution of retribution; other wise known as pay back.

Funny how pay back is always associated with a female canine.

Sonny Ray reached into his shirt pocket, and without verbalizing anything, extended his arm to Dwayne.
Dwayne smiled at his new friend, curious now. Dwayne reached out and waited.
Sonny Ray dropped the silver bracelet into his outstretched hand. Dwayne looked at the bracelet trying to keep his eyes on the road. Dwayne read the front of the bracelet. “Where did you get this man?”
“I found it on the side of the road after officer Bob, you know, punted me like an under inflated football.” Dwayne nodded, flashing a sheepish smile.
“Yeah so why did you want me to see this?” Dwayne asked. “Read the other side homeboy,” Sonny Ray said smiling now.

Dwayne read it slowly. A long pause ensued. “Are you serious? Sonny Ray are you kidding me man? Get the hell out of here.” Dwayne, who was generally a very reserved person, was now on the verge of losing control.

He was now giving Sonny Ray a reason for pause.

Dwayne’s eyes were big, like sand dollars; his smile scary. Dwayne had tears in his eyes, as he reread the bracelet. He handed the bracelet to Sonny Ray. “Read it again for me before I wreck this truck,” Dwayne said.

Sonny Ray looked at Dwayne as he held the bracelet up slowly.

“It says, ‘Your lover, Chief of Police Shane Edwards.’ ”

Dwayne yelled like he had won the California lottery.

“Man if I knew you were going to be so excited, I would have gave it to you sooner,” Sonny Ray said laughing. “This my friend is a gift indeed, thank you. You have no idea.” Dwayne stated. “So fill me in on all the details,” Sonny Ray said. Dwayne composed himself. “Chief Edwards is the big cheese running this town bro.”

“So the Chief of Police, and officer Bob are an item then?”

“Evidently,” was all Dwayne could manage.

Both men nodded solemnly, as they rode bareback upon horses of recompense.

However, the two men had more urgent business to attend to.
They both understood that this would have to wait for another day.

But when that day arrived,
it would be
sweet;

sweet like a mango.

Copyright 2003 All Rights Reserved #blackeagledream

A Novel by Kawika A. Stafford

Chapter 30

Cyrus sat at the table drinking a cup of coffee. Dwayne had just called to let him know they got back from Sky Harbor Airport in Phoenix, and would be home shortly. The two men had to stop by the store again to get more gas, ice, drinks, food, and a couple of bundles of firewood for the trip before coming to the house. Cyrus sat down in the rocker that Dwayne had recently purchased for him. Cyrus was grateful, but thought it unnecessary considering he had so little time left to live.

Cyrus had felt his desire to live, slip away the last few weeks.

Cyrus had made a concerted effort to relate to Sonny Ray of some of the inner workings of the black eagle dream. It would not be easy though, because even Cyrus knew he did not have all the answers.

Through the years Cyrus had surmised that the black eagle dream flew between two worlds, the spiritual one, and the physical one, which would include the subconscious dream world; much like mankind itself.

As the eyes of a person are the open windows to their soul; it was given to the black eagle dream, access to fly through the eyes of a person’s dream.

For Cyrus it had been of the utmost importance to him to relate the story of Altair Ali to Sonny Ray. After all, it was Altair Ali, who was the man who had entrusted the black eagle dream to Cyrus as he lie dying in a remote jungle in

North Africa, during World War II .

Cyrus happened upon Altair while out on an unspecified one man reconnaissance. He found Altair as he lay mortally wounded on the jungle floor of a large pit filled with sharpened stakes. Cyrus had lowered himself into the abyss to do what he could for the dying man.

Cyrus was an exceptionally large native hawaiian man who possessed extraordinary strength. He had lifted the impaled man from off the sharpened stakes, with the minimal amount of effort. Altair would not eat, so Cyrus gave him sips of cool water, and warm tea. Cyrus had built a fire. After giving Altair the last of his morphine, Cyrus lay in the large pit next to the dying Altair, as the flames of the fire danced, ascending upward into the expanse of the dark star lit night, revealing the green and lush fauna that surrounded the large pit.

It was here that it was to be their earthen womb, on this warm and humid night.

The large black eagle sat upon the shrapnel filled coconut stump with attentive eyes, peering down into the pit observing the two men; as Cyrus continued to care for the dying man. Cyrus lay flat on his back looking up into the stillness of night. Altair’s breath became more labored.

Before Altair died he told Cyrus he was from Morocco, and that this winged creature was the Black Eagle Dream. It was Altair’s life long companion. The black eagle possessed unusual longevity. Altair explained that the black eagle had been in his family since the time of his great grandfather’s youth.

Altair tried to tell him more about the origins of this magnificent creature, but grew weaker, and labored to say even a few words. Although Altair continued in struggling to speak, he remained insistent that Cyrus cremate him after he died.

He had related earlier in the night that the black eagle would not leave him, even after he died, and was buried. It had to be by fire before the Black Eagle Dream would take its leave.

Thus by the flame of life being extinguished, and the vessel that was Altair Ali would return to the ground; the window would be closed from the living to the dead.

Altair Ali spoke of dreams, of his beloved wife and daughter….

The old man’s thoughts gradually began to shift to the present.

Cyrus had always desired to reveal himself to Sonny Ray, but it was his mother who would not agree to that, and had sworn she would never speak to him again if he did not relent to her wishes. Such was the selfish vanity and pride of this particular woman. She would only relent and allow Cyrus to contact Sonny Ray after Wendell was deceased.

Well that moment had finally arrived.

Prior to meeting Sonny Ray, Cyrus began to have nightly dreams of his son. Over time it occurred to Cyrus that these reoccurring dreams solidified his resolve to contact Sonny Ray to not only tell him who he was, but to ascertain if he would be willing to open the door and let the Black Eagle Dream be a part of his life.

This was not going to be a hobby. It would without question play a prominent role in the young man’s life going forward. The fact that Sonny Ray hadn’t had the opportunity to wrap his mind around everything that had been placed upon him in such a small window of time was very disconcerting to Cyrus.

But
it was
about
time really.

Time.

Cyrus had run out of time.

Literally.

We all run out of it…

eventually.

Soon Cyrus would be at Shiprock Mountain to say his goodbyes, and
to watch
the
sunset,
one
last time.

Copyright 2003 All Rights Reserved #blackeagledream