Metamorphosis: The Trey Parker Story
RW Reels
Author Bio
RW Reels
My infatuation with writing was born before I ever took my first breath, somewhere on the rural plains of Eastern North Carolina, nourished by the adventures of my grandmother’s childhood. From the time I was only four or five years old, her memories gave flight to my imagination and fuel to my curiosities. Her stories widened my eyes to the fascinatingly bizarre in the everyday.
As a young girl, my grandmother would bring her puppy with her to stalk rabbits every morning. The two of them would chase an unlucky long-eared rascal until it escaped into a hollow at the base of a tree, and she would run a stick around the inside of the opening as though churning butter. The spell of the sound and vibration would lure the rabbit out of the tree and into her hands.
Good fiction, inventive and provocative fiction, reverberates in readers and spellbinds them. It can spur surprise, delight, discomfort, and revelation and defy reason. As a storyteller, I strive to help others solve their problems by sharing things that I have read about, heard about, and seen. But I also prize the look on people’s faces when they hear the brilliant punch line of a joke, or when they experience an epiphany that knocks the logical wind out of them. These are the reactions that I live to inspire in my audiences when I write paranormal thrillers.
My obsession with the extraordinary in my writing might also, ironically, stem from my 20-year career in the U.S. Army. I can allow my mind to wander in the extraterrestrial sphere while my love for my country keeps me grounded in domestic affairs. Of all of my accomplishments, serving as a paratrooper in a Special Forces Group and a Field Artillery outfit during Operation Desert Shield/Desert Storm claims high rank. Few situations force a person to confront his humanity as painfully as going off to war, and this experience taught me both to accept accountability for my actions and to trust others. Eventually, I became a successful Army Recruiter and Station Commander, earning the Top Recruiting Station awards in Dallas and Seattle Recruiting Battalions. North Carolina Central University granted me a Public Service Award for my work in the local community. And currently, I serve fellow veterans as an HR Specialist for the Department of Veteran Affairs.
Other passions of mine include playing chess, traveling, and indulging in my contrarian nature by instigating debate. Spending time with my wife tops the list of my life’s privileges, however. Whether I am entertaining her with my emulation of Laurence Olivier as Marcus Crassus or protecting her from an elk during one of our photography excursions in the wild, I treasure her companionship and affection.
When I was twelve years old, I announced to my Aunt Becky and Cousin Tony that I wanted to write a book. They stared at me in astonishment. The world of publishing was an enigma to simple country folks in Beaufort, North Carolina in 1982. These days I am achieving my dream with the ebook, a medium through which I can express my individuality without sacrificing my voice to expectations of marketability, popularity, and deadlines. My goal is to create an opportunity for escapism that is bold and absolute.
Description
Metamorphosis: The Trey Parker Story, the first novel in a three-part paranormal thriller series, will compel readers to question whether the life track they have been traveling is absolute and unchangeable, or whether the potential for greater influence lies within them, waiting to flourish. The novel begins with a young black man, Trey Parker, doubting the validity of what his parents and the church have always taught him about the power of faith. Within ten years, Trey’s father has abandoned the family, and Trey falls into dangerous behavior that results in his being shot. This near-death experience alters the course of his life. He develops new abilities that he can use to heal others and to convince them of their worth, and though Trey feels propelled down this path, he embraces his new purpose wholeheartedly. His reconfigured destiny leads him to reconnect with his family, forge new, fulfilling friendships, and even to fall in love. However, surreptitious forces attempt to thwart Trey’s happiness and his goals. A police detective vows to uncover the details of the shooting and a former Special Forces Colonel is assigned by the government to collect information about Trey, an object of suspicion now that his brush with death has transformed him. Both Detective Landis and Agent Frank Smith pursue professional and personal motives in discovering “the truth” behind Trey’s incident, and wrestle with antagonistic events and people—as well as their own backgrounds, belief systems, and flaws—throughout their investigations. Ultimately, Trey Parker’s new altruistic role in the community causes trouble for him and for those he cares about. He must determine how to manage his metaphysical gifts, and when to listen to his own instinct in the process of fighting a corrupt system that threatens the most sacred rights of humanity.
Book excerpt
Prologue
Two more hours in the muggy heat, amidst the swirling fragrance of jasmine and sweat, will not help twelve-year-old Trey understand God any better. Trey’s father James, sits next to the aisle and uses one hand to keep the Bible from falling out of his lap, and the other to scratch at the gray hairs sprinkled throughout his beard—brought on by the stress of job searching and providing for a growing family. Another child on the way makes his peppered beard grayer and itchier. If he keeps his nose clean on the new job, he may get a twenty-five cent raise at year’s end, but it won’t make much difference.
Sitting next to Trey in her black and white polka-dotted maternity dress, is Trey’s mother Tracey. Inside Tracey’s tummy, Trey’s unborn sister grows restless, turns and kicks. Tracey’s marquise-cut wedding ring sparkles as she rubs her belly and the child she plans to name Toni.
Bored and hot, Trey slumps in his pew, wrinkling his white short sleeve shirt. The morning sunlight shines through red and blue stained glass depicting Mary and Joseph—looking down at the baby Christ in Mary’s arms. The sun reflects off Trey’s eyeglasses and the sheen of his curly black hair. He focuses on his thumbs, the most exciting things in the church, as he spins them back and forth, wishing he had a fast forward button to propel him through the service.
Nana and the other church elders perched in the pew in front of Trey fan themselves, stirring the jasmine that stings Trey’s nostrils. Those seated behind the elders must lean to either side of the women to see around the extended brims and golden ornaments of their hats. The style of hats dates back to ancient Egypt, representing the crowns of queens, and is a cherished tradition amongst the black women elders.
Nana spins around in her red hat sprinkled with rose petals and looks back at Trey. His vertebrae creaks in the back of his neck when he lifts his head quickly, sitting upright. Smiling, Nana reaches over the back of her pew and pats his knee with her withered brown hand. The bluish-red veins pop up in her fingers while she tightens her grip. “You pay attention to today’s lesson, you hear? I expect great things from you.”
Trey grimaces from the pinch in his left knee. “Yes, Nana.”
Next to him, his mother’s black curly hair rests softly on her shoulders. Her caramel-colored skin and hazel eyes garner the attention of several men in the church, even though they lost the courtship to James years ago. The men still glance at her, several with wives at their side. Tracey’s eyes sparkle. Her life is almost perfect: her thin frame is now plump with another child; her eldest child sits to her right, her strong, loving husband to her left, and her stern but caring mother in front. And although she gives James a hard time, it is a wonderful start to a beautiful life.
A sudden silence descends over the church and causes the bored Trey to lift his head and look around. The service is ready to begin. Beyond the pulpit, a man stands in a black gown with his back to the congregation raising both arms. The choir rises. Their seemingly too hot black and gold-trimmed gowns struggle to stay on as they clap and stomp their feet, the thud vibrates throughout the pews and off Trey’s chest. Seconds into the hymn the elders stand and block Trey’s view, followed by the parishioners leaping up and singing along, clapping and dancing to the tune.
The young Trey Parker stretches his back in the pew as his brown eyes blink slowly behind his silver-framed glasses. Asking his mother how much longer will only result in another scolding and besides, they just got started.
The piano player’s fingers dance back and forth across the keys as if they are running away from him. Jingles from the clamoring tambourines sound like soda cans bouncing into a metal trashcan. Shouts of “hallelujah” fill Trey’s ears, but he continues playing with his thumbs and pushing up on his glasses.
The choir rejoices in a second hymn before taking their seats. The deacons prepare the church for giving. Offering time is the best part for only one reason: Sharise. Trey leans forward in his chair, staring down the pew past his father and across the aisle at her. Normally he comes face to face with her in the aisle at offering time. Sharise’s mother brushes one of her daughter’s double ponytails to the side and whispers in her ear. Sharise smiles and Trey imagines that her mother is talking about him, telling her daughter that Trey is a handsome young man and that he’s a good Christian, or a God-fearing man; something he heard Nana say on the phone one day about one of the deacons.
James stands at the edge of the pew and blocks Trey’s view as the parishioners funnel into the aisle and toward the altar with their offering in hand. The ushers approach the pew in their black suits and white gloves and extend their hands, showing James the way. He strides down the aisle in a cheap gray suit that does not fit well, his head held high nonetheless. His fingers, dull from engine oil, grasp a modest percentage of his first full pay check as a certified mechanic. He walks so Nana can see in how he carries himself, that the days of borrowing money from her are over, and he will make good on his vow to care for her daughter.
The week before, Tracey discovered that Trey kept money from the offering pan. Now he is not allowed to walk behind his father with a donation. Trey reasoned that since God owns everything, why would God mind if he kept a mere quarter for candy. This is the Sunday he has mustered enough courage to wink across the aisle at Sharise, not worrying whether the ushers see—a bet he made with his best friend Kendrick, and now destined to lose.
Kendrick is the kind of friend that has followed Trey through grade school, showing up in all of his classes and even study hall. The bet, a quarter’s worth of candy, was Kendrick’s for sure. Although Kendrick’s family stopped attending the Lonely Road Baptist Church when their dad ran off, Trey will still honor his bet with the sissy.
Despite Trey’s own understanding of God and what he thought the church needed, his mother spanked him for keeping the quarter. The bright side was she didn’t tell Nana. Who knows, the quarter may have helped get the air conditioner fixed, but instead went towards green jolly ranchers.
Looking over and discovering his mom rubbing her stomach, Trey’s brown eyes catch Tracey’s attention. Her hand still on her belly, she leans toward her son and whispers, “Your sister is kicking, Trey. Put your hand here and you can feel it.” She takes Trey’s hand and places it on her stomach. Trey tilts his head and searches for his sister through his fingertips and imagination. And there she is.
A warm rush of heat fills Trey’s chest. “I can feel it, Momma, I can feel it.”
Fighting back a smile, Tracey places a finger on her lips. “Shhh.”
Trey places his ear to his mommy’s tummy again when Nana turns to see what the fuss is about. Her grandson sits up quickly in the pew, his back as straight as a pencil, and looks forward to the pulpit. Nana’s glare pierces through him. Nana nods her head at her daughter and Trey exhales when the red roses on her hat finally make the slow revolution around.
The pastor stands, facing the congregation. He wears a white silk robe that nearly touches the floor. His elbows tucked in at his sides, he clutches the good book like a plate with two hands for fear it’ll fall. A gold cross swings from his neck as he takes slow steps to the podium. His voice, deeper than it should be for a man his age, fills the church without the aid of a microphone. “Let’s show our thanks for the best choir this side of Heaven.”
The entire congregation fly to their feet, clapping and humming and rocking back and forth, startling Trey. He mumbles to himself, “Please don’t sing another song. Please.”
The pastor thrusts his index finger toward Heaven in rhythm with each syllable. “Today we look at Matthew 21:21.”
Leaning forward in the pew, past Tracey’s tummy, Trey peers over at his father, who is flipping pages in the Bible.
Tracey rolls her eyes. “It’s in the New Testament, James.” She shakes her head, frustrated that James has yet to learn the books of the Bible, and hopes Nana doesn’t notice.
James’s fingers stumble upon the book of Matthew. He stands. When he turns to help up his wife, Trey is already using both hands and all of his body weight to help his mother out of her seat.
“Thanks, sweetie,” Tracey whispers.
Trey stares at the pastor’s gold cross and wonders if it means he wants to die on the cross so he can go up to heaven like Jesus.
Trey’s thoughts sail and he glances across the aisle at Sharise and finds her staring toward the altar, her double ponytails covering her ear. The silence before the pastor’s first word is an interesting moment. Eyes look up to him for leadership and direction. Trey wonders how long the sermon will last today.
The pastor reads, “Then Jesus told them, I tell you the truth, if you have faith and don’t doubt, you can do things like this and much more. You can even say to this mountain, ‘May you be lifted up and thrown into the sea,’ and it will happen.”
The rest of the church take a seat but Trey still stands, as if nailed to the floor. He stares at the cross around the pastor’s neck in astonishment at his own power. And wonder, how come no one has told him this before, that he can move mountains? This has to be the best part in the whole Bible—and they’ve been keeping it a secret!
Tracey reaches over and tugs at his hand. “Sit down, Trey.” His locked joints and muscles barely bend as he slowly sits down on the pew. “You okay?”
He turns his emotionless face to his mother. “Mom, how come you didn’t tell me I can move a mountain?”
Tracey uses her finger again to hush him. “Shhh. Listen to the sermon.”
Trey’s mind bounces in so many directions he gets dizzy, takes off his glasses, and rubs his eyes while contemplating the passage. It takes hold of him to the point that he can think of nothing else and does not hear the rest of the sermon. Trey stares at Christ cradled in Mary’s arm in the stained glass window. Outside, several tree limbs bend in the wind. A bluebird senses Trey’s eyes on him and darts off a branch with blooming buds. Trey wonders if God is a man, who is Mother Nature. They now begin to feel like the same.
Trey’s world goes silent as he ponders the power of God and becomes frightened that he may possess some of this power. Of course, he must keep it a secret and not tell Kendrick or the other kids in school. Kendrick has shared a deep dark secret with him, and it would be a good gesture to share something in return, but this is too valuable.
Author Website
https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/rwreels