WAKE ME UP BEFORE I DIE by Kennedy Brazier (read the beginning after the end novel TXT) 📕

It moved so gracefully, flying over him. And even when Johnny faded away into an empty haze again, he could still feel the birds’ tremendous presence moving over him, like a cold wind…blowing, he could feel its chill surrounding him. He felt the sense of peace from the presence of the large black bird.

But Johnny did not rest entirely. His thoughts would not allow him to completely surrender to death. He quietly fought to regain power of an unreceptive body and a distant mind, that he could no longer control. As in all of the numerous times death had come into the life Johnny owned, he was still not ready to succumb to it, for it would not take his life, not today, he vowed - He would not die yet, Johnny told himself.

   Releasing the final efforts to awake, with the only living spirit he had left inside of him, Johnny called out to escape the turmoil he laid within. But there was no response. He reached inside of himself, into a place he had never gone before, praying into the depths of his soul, to pull him away from the state he lay within…  

And then suddenly through the silence, a strong Native American voice

chanting a healing song eased his tormented mind … ”a aaa…Nitaihtsikssi’ Sixika ninna Iiii…anima’ Spomitap ksi’ ssapoomahksika….. aaaaa aakapaisiina ahhh ninna asi. ninawaa ksistsiko ..iii asakiwa akako’owa..saa..miaawaah.”….…a Blackfoot medicinal song, echoed softly to its fallen descendent and answered Johnny. “Yes, Sleep Blackfoot son and see the great crow spirit from above…oh time will pass making son to man- just listen for the feathers of a song of day to escape the night and you will be never be lonesome again.”….The spirit sang.

    The fluttering wings of the black bird soared inside of Johnny’s mind and he calmly relaxed into the freedom chant singing in his distance. The tribal lullaby from his unknown past and the rhythmic flutter of the blackbird’s wings calmed Johnny to a state of ease as it slowly captivated every thought that erupted in his mind. The sound charmed his delusional condition until the flight of the bird’s wings were robbing every labored memory that erupted in his mind, soaring higher and higher, as the ascension owned Johnny's existence, and the world he knew moved further away.

Johnny Lureaux was 27 years old and regretfully he could recall each time he had escaped the claws of death. He had learned about the foundations of a battle with the ultimate end from the early age of 3. His deathly encounters always arrived with a brash surprise catching Johnny off guard. But his resilience to overcome its capture, with each episode, created an arrogance to neglect the very life Johnny had fought death over.

It was irrelevant to whether he called Death into existence from his bad choices or whether it appeared on its own, he knew the feeling of its presence all too well.  But regardless of his deceitful ways and his close calls, Johnny always thought he’d have more time to change. Now this blackness with a grip on the life he owned, had returned larger and stronger, moving its way into the existence he had mistreated and it would only offer past memories of where it all begin....

With every visit, Johnny had left death outside of his door, and now in this vacant zone, in a victorious, yet surprisingly, passive defeat, death was making this its territory.  It would move Johnny’s state of mind to a vacant zone, no longer present and force him to recall the many visits it had made throughout out his life.  Yes, Death had returned, with a seemingly permanent stay, and as the spirit of his past vibrated the Blackfoot’s song through his soul and the black bird soared over him, Johnny was compliant to finally answer the door and welcome the familiar, spirited conveyor inside…

CHAPTER 2

The present voided haze took Johnny back 24 years to Selma, Alabama. It was 1934 and Johnny was only 3 years old, trotting alongside side his expectant, 17 year old mother. She was taking him away to live a new life and the happy carefree toddler, didn't have any idea that his world was changing that morning.....

The dew on the grass was cool and wet beneath his bare feet as Johnny hurried through the open field almost running to keep up with his mother’s brisk walk. Spring was near but the air remained chilled, numbing his shriveled, sun-withered toes.

Johnny didn’t know what time it was, but from the sight of the black rooster, squawking in the yard a few minutes earlier, he knew that it was early morning. He tried to peek at his mother’s face, but she only looked forward, walking steadily, squeezing his hand tightly, as she pulled him along her side.

She was young, but the frustrations surrounding Martha Johnson’s life were beginning to age her smooth brown skin. When her mother died, Martha was only 9 years old and was left with the enormous responsibility to raise her 6 younger siblings. Her grief-stricken father took on work away from the town of Selma to ease the pain of his loss and provided Martha with financial support by courier each week.  The Women’s Group of the First Baptist Church that Martha and her family once all attended together helped Martha in establishing the roles of a young woman and mother and her father sent over farm hands to keep the yard in order and to do home repairs. Once a month, he would stop by with gifts for his children until the months grew longer and it was only the money that arrived in the mail. 

By the time she was 13, Martha had become the sole keeper of her 6 siblings.  Her father’s demands of sacrificing Elementary School with the daily chores and replacing Martha’s enjoyable playmates with her trying brothers and sisters was initially difficult to meet and then later when Martha rarely saw him and the maternal role to care for her family fell entirely into her hands, the daily responsibilities became natural to her.

The overwhelming duties concealed the love and nurture she had been given in the years before her mother’s death and caused her to lose sight of her childish ways. The world demanded everything from her, and she gave what was expected. She became a resentful young woman and an apathetic mother well before she ever had Johnny and now the entire town sneered at her current situation.

This was it; she decided…It was time to get what she wanted from life! She was almost a legal adult now and it was about time she stopped doing what everyone told her to do! It was time to do what was best for her; no matter what it took. It was time to finally stand up for herself.

She attempted to leave the small town, unnoticed; walking with conviction, holding her child’s hand tight into her own and swinging a brown little tattered leather suitcase in her other hand. They hurried along a roadside ditch, and headed down the alley on First Avenue, passing silently, through the now resting town of Selma, Alabama. By the time that they had marched past the market and grocery store, sped beside the First Tabernacle Baptist Church, rushed beneath the premature china berry trees, and stepped over the loosened rocks in between the railroad tracks, the sun had raised higher, spreading its warm rays across the wintry southern sky.

A forest of diverse trees stood like a barricade lined up for miles, near the tracks and Johnny’s mother entered them vigorously, using the suitcase to clear their way. The bright sun flashed over them, gleaming spontaneously throughout the dimness surrounded in the trees. Johnny trailed behind his mother leisurely, and noticed a bright pink blossom hanging from a low limb of a shrub as he followed her. It was a camellia flower, the only one that had bloomed so early in the year. Its delicate ruffled petals fluttered gently, in the February cool breeze.

He pulled it off of its branch and yelled with excitement rushing closer to her. “Mama, I found a flower for you!” he said yanking at her dress from behind.

She stopped and turned around to look at him. She was silent for a moment and then took the blossom from his hand. Her eyes clouded with emotion for her innocent child.

   “My sweet boy,” she finally said. “Thank-you, I’m gonna keep this always, okay? - I will always keep this blossom near.” She promised… holding the tender flower to her heart... ”Always.” she said again, smiling down at him.

   Johnny smiled back at her with pride. “How come it’s not any other ones in these woods, mama? ---I don’t see any more flowers!” he said with disappointment.

“Just keep walking Johnny Lee”, she replied as she continued to move, stepping carefully through the brush.

    “Mama?” he questioned her again.

“Yesss,--Johnny.” his mother responded, ducking to dodge a black belt Alabama moth, as it suddenly flurried from a tree.

“It must be a special day for you to get the only pretty flower in these woods, huh?”  He asked looking around as he spoke, his eyes searching and hoping to see another distinct flower.

She didn’t respond and Johnny continued with more questions, following her inquisitively, as he explored the surrounding woods.

“Mama, how come I hear water running? Is there a river nearby?” he asked.

“You’re hearin the echo from Valley Creek runnin yonder,-that’s all, boy.” she said, pausing as she looked around her to gather her place and then continued moving forward. Then with a widened sweep of her arm, Johnny's mother exited the swarm of trees, and arrived into the full rays of the sun again.

An unpaved, but trotted road lay twisted in front of them. His mother took in a long breath, resting for a second, as she arched her back and then straightened it up again and looked down the long pebble-ridden path. Johnny stood silently, wondering what she was thinking, then she quietly whispered underneath her light panting, “Lord,-Please let this be what I’m supposed to do.-Let this be the right thing to do-Please!” her voice quivered desperately in the whispered prayer.

She tapped her forehead lightly to wipe away the dampness upon her brow and then wiped her hand on her dress.  Finally, she reached down and responded to Johnny’s anticipation and grabbed his hand back into her own. “Come on, we’re almost there.” She said.

     Before she realized it, they were in full stride again and almost running down the road she remained so focused on. Maybe they were going to a new church, Johnny thought after hearing her brief prayer and he did have on his Sunday clothes. He smiled happily to himself, recalling part of a song he had learned in Sunday school recently.

“Yes, Jesus