Seeds of Change

By William J. Ryan

A powerful and prosperous New York attorney experiences a profound change in his personal and professional values and beliefs when he loses his daughter in a fatal car accident. Follow James Brannon through his personal transformation, which was aided by his grandchildren and the townspeople of the community where his deceased daughter had been so highly regarded by all. As you read you will see the veneer of a powerful New York attorney and businessman stripped away to reveal a decent and honest soul that loves his family and his neighbors and fellow citizens. Without that veneer of power, such a decent and honest soul can be crushed by those in power. Is the old adage true? Do nice guys really finish last? Read to find out!!

• Language: English
• Publisher: William J. Ryan
• Release date: May 3, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463857588

William J. Ryan

I am William J. Ryan. I am in my 60’s and I am an autodidact (self-directed learner) and I am dyslexic. I not only suffer from trouble with letters, numbers and spelling of words changing on me, but structuring of sentences will sometimes be backwards. (Don’t worry; I hire someone to edit these stories before I send them!) I write for the joy of writing, of getting an idea out there. I write in many different genres, children’s stories, historical fiction, fiction, science fiction, crime, and adventure, all the way to anti-religion. I do research on everything that I write about in order to try to be as factual as I can be. I have self – published 35 books and 22 screenplays! Self - publishing is a great way to start, but it is hard to get the audience’s attention. I am also the illustrator of all the artwork within each of my books and most of the cover art. You won’t find many authors out there that include artwork in their stories. More About Me Born in poverty, by white trash sperm and egg donors, my childhood was one horrific nightmare after another, that I would spend the rest of my life overcoming. Freeing myself from this extremely dysfunctional cluster of lost self in diligent beings, by cutting off all contact with them all, was the best thing I ever did. At an early age I chose not to have children for I was not given the skill to raise them and chose not to pass on the gruesome genic dysfunctions I inherited. Writing personal painful events in one of my fictional characters is second nature and comes far far far too easy. In my early 20s, I discovered my reading and learning disability had a name, Dyslexia and I worked as an adult to overcome letters and numbers changing before my eyes. Later in life, as an older adult, I learn the power of reading and writing and became an Autodidact. This affliction never leaves one and I am glad to trade the curse of Dyslexia for the skills to invent and create people places and events that I see so clearly in my mind’s eye. Every story, every town, every person is 100% real to me and I see every picture on the wall, the view out the window, the streets and homes of the neighbor hoods, making them all so real to me and I hope the reader. Artfully crafted acquired skills, from a child hood trying to escape the insanity surrounding this small boy and his young developing mind, where he found himself. i.e. A clear example of a Dyslexic sentence. A short stent (seven years), in the criminal banking industry; where I saw V.P.’s change mortgage interest rates higher on loans, to increase the profits for the bank, cheating the customers. When I refused to participate, I was told, “I needed to think of the Bank First”. My response was “I will never do this.” I also witnessed V.P.’s instruct managers to create duplicate faults files (and they did) concealing the crimes of the bank during a government audit, so they would pass. When I could find the courage to walk out, (without notice for they did not earn it) I did and changed my life’s course path for the better, still looking for that place in my child’s mind where people were honest and decent and truthful. All of my life up to this point I could not face my tormentors, (beaten down so badly as a child) the bullies in my life and at this time I found my voice and the inter straight to take them all on,,, one at a time. With each confrontation, with each face to face battle, I have grown stronger and developed the skills to beat back the bullies of the world exposing them for what they truly are. There is no one I will not attack back fending off their aggression, their bullying of the weakest among us all,,, children,,, has become my single life focal point. At this intolerant unforgiving stage in my life, my understanding of man’s history, is continually being rewritten and removing the light of truth, I pull further away from people. The worst being the so called God Fearing People, that believe they can do anything to anyone and God will forgive their sins so they can do it again. Every one of them has shown me the black oozy bag that is their sole and there is no helping them, so I stopped trying and recoil from the religious. The evil that all religious people do every day, in their God’s name, (genocide, rape of a child, land grab, slavery) show us all that their god must have horns and a pointy tale. This clear understanding of people and the evil that exist just under the skin, emerges in all my stories. A good writer should not create without understanding, but write what they know. I know this evil all too well and I can write and attest to its fullest!!! Favorite Quotes (some) “Just because you are born in shit, does not mean you must stay there”. The quote is from a female polite from WWII, instrumental in the development of the WASP, name unknown. “A man’s strength is measured by the strength of his enemies” Sioux My list is very long and grows with every day and they are indeed very powerful. Each day I wait for them to come and kill me,,, the Deceivers I expose. “Hell is other people” From the book NO EXIT by Jean-Paul Sartre 1944. The things he must have witnessed,,, as the Good German Christion’s gathered up the Jews (the god killers, Jewish Deicide) for the slaughter. Oops did I let that slip? Yes the Nazis were unapologetically Christian,,, Gott Mit Uns (God with us) was worn upon every German Christians soldiers belt as they justified their actions with words of Scrupulosity and its madness. Example; “Our movement is Christianity” Adolf Hitler. These Christians are not good people and for me this quote helps prove it. “The waste,,, the waste,,, the waste.” These were last words of the abdicated King Edward VIII of England. Somehow it seems to sum up the best efforts of man on Earth. “I am ashamed to say I am a member of the human race.” said by Charles Bukowski, august 16th 1920 to March 9th 1994. Words I hear in my mind every day as I see more atrocities of man and his foot print upon this small planet. I carry all of these words with me every day and use them to steer me from the rocky shores of others as I set a heading for my ship away,,, off into the setting sun,,, as I was born,,, alone. Personal Hero’s Ferdinand Waldo Demara Jr.; his skills of camouflages and moving from one life to another, immeasurably helped to guide me and reinvent myself for the better. It is with envy I look to him and his life, for he truly is,,, The Great Impostor. This is but a small window into my sole and reveals but a small part of what has made this man what he is,,, good or bad.

Book preview

Seeds of Change

Written and Illustrated by William J. Ryan

Copyright 2018 William J. Ryan

Published by William J. Ryan at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. This book may not be reproduced in part or in whole without the written permission of the author. You may write to William J. Ryan at Post Office Box 666, Dade City, Florida 33526

If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All information, theories and any philosophies or hypotheses should be verified by the reader from outside sources before one takes action to protect oneself from any of the impending dooms that are predicted to come within this book. All theories and characters in this book (if any) are fictitious and any resemblance to others or actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental unless a true name is used and true quotes are used.

Table of Contents

Introduction

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

About William J. Ryan

Other books by William J. Ryan

Connect with William J. Ryan

Introduction

A powerful New York attorney’s life is turned upside down when tragedy befalls him. Near retirement this man looks back on his life and questions his accomplishments, when looking at his lifetime through the eyes of children.

Emerging from this tragedy he discovers a gift is being presented to him that few of us ever obtain and he wants to make the best of it by doing the right thing.

Through his efforts to transform himself, he discovers the true value of hard work and friendship, thereby turning a small dying town’s dream into reality.

Regardless of a lifetime’s accumulated wealth, his new friends and his years of law experience, he is no match for the enemies he makes while fulfilling dreams of others.

The truly powerful, those behind all global events, find the small waves coming from one small town in Florida,,, easy to quash.

Chapter One

The Call

A View from the Top

Darkness and peaceful silence surround us as we seem to float in the air. It is the dead of night, stars fill the sky and there before us are soft billowy dark gray clouds. It is apparent we are high in the sky over the good earth when suddenly the sun bursts upon the horizon revealing a flock of white birds heading out on a long trip. Their occasional calls are the only sounds we hear as the gentle wind quietly moves the clouds eastward.

Suddenly the quiet calm and tranquility is broken when a large jet races by leaving in its wake a contrail of its exhaust and unburned fuel that is being dumped in preparation for landing. This party airbus is filled with people with more money than sense heading from a place they won’t remember to a place no one in their right mind would want to be.

The jet pierces the clouds, disorients and scatters the birds as they breathe in the toxic soup left behind by the group of partiers. No notice is given to the one poor bird that could not make it back to the flock for the jet vortex was so strong it broke one of his wings. As he tried to find its way, he only breathed in more poison until finally succumbing to the fumes and falling to its death, disappearing into the dark landscape.

There for the first time we can see lights coming from below as the tallest of buildings from a large city emerge from those grey clouds. The sun is now rising and with its warmth it starts the process of burning off the fog and revealing the city in all its chaotic symmetry and pollution.

We descend to ground level, where we first observe the early morning actions of a large city. At the feet of the tall buildings are traffic jams, horns honking, people pushing and shoving on the streets, crowding themselves into elevators and wolfing down coffee with fast food. The scene at ground level is of filth, dirt, trash, garbage, and irritated people yelling at one another. For them, this is just another normal day and how everyone lives,,, normal.

We come up to a huge fifty-story skyscraper with a car double parked in front and a policeman is directing traffic trying to keep things moving. There is a stopped semi needing to make a turn right where the car is double parked, so traffic is all backing up.

The cop motions and shouts directions at the semi driver to make his turn, Come on, come on,,, turn.

The driver sticks his head out of the window and shouts back, I can’t, my rear tires are going to run over the front of that car!

I don’t care, I’m telling you to keep going. You’re blocking traffic!

Okay, but I’ll run over that car and crush it!

I told you to move!

At this point, the truck driver puts it in gear and proceeds to turn, pulling his rear trailer tires right over the hood and front fender of the parked car. Sure enough, the trucker was right; he had just crushed the Volkswagen’s front end. He continues on around the corner and moves down the street.

The cop calls the dispatcher, as a crowd of onlookers gather, We got an abandoned car all busted up and we need a tow truck to get it out of here. It’s blocking a turn lane. We’re going to be backed up for miles if it’s not out of here in a few minutes.

Slowly, we move up the front side of the skyscraper away from the traffic and noise below and observe what’s taking place inside. Story by story and window by window reveals employees undaunted by their workload as they are just talking and drinking coffee. No one seems concerned at all about their full in-baskets, undone tasks, and ringing telephones.

At the top floor, where the sounds below have become less obstructive and somewhat softer, with the sound of the wind blowing, we actually see people at the top floor, who appear to be at work. We move closer to one of the windows and pass through the glass, entering a large conference room where a board of directors meeting is going on. They are discussing profit margins and their current business agenda.

Suddenly a secretary comes in and walks up to an elderly man sitting at the head of the table. She is five two, slender, with long dark hair and walks like a model in her high heels. Every eye is on her as she bends down to speak to Mr. Brannon. She conceals her mouth with one of her delicate white hands and whispers in his ear.

James, it’s something important, you need to step out so I can speak with you.

James looks at her crossly and says, "But you know this is our monthly meeting, this is important,,, can it wait?"

She leans back down to his ear and persists, I’m telling you that you need to step out of this meeting right now and come with me. I have something urgent to tell you.

James knew that look and had seen it a few times in the past and he recognizes her tone of voice. It was then he noticed her makeup was smudged and her eyes were red as though she had been crying. He excuses himself and steps out.

Once in the outer office, Laura, the secretary, says hesitantly, I have some bad news.

She pulls her arms in tight to her body folding them on her chest in a defensive stance and looks out the window, clearly shaken. Her entire body was now shacking as she tried to control it.

Your son-in-law and daughter have been in a bad accident, James.

With that, she starts sobbing uncontrollably with her face in her hands, unable to look at him.

A furrowed brow and look of concern comes over James’s face as he lets her remark sink in. A moment of silence passes and he speaks slowly like an attorney grilling a witness on the witness stand, When you say…uh…a bad accident…What do you mean?

Laura can’t speak or get the words out to tell him, she just trembles, sobs and looks away. James grabs her shoulders and turns her around toward him, trying to calm her. A wild thought crosses his mind, You could be sued for sexual harassment, get your hands off of her!

He removes his hands but she releases her defensive guard and falls against him, holding him tightly, still not able to get a word out. With her head pushing against his chest, the clean scent of her hair enters his nostrils.

He turns his head and softly asks, Is someone dead?

Laura rocks her head, wiping mascara and tears on his suit. Others are starting to come out of the boardroom and gather.

Desperate now, James demands Are they all dead, can you tell me that? You need to breathe and tell me!

She takes a deep breath and almost screams, Yes! She’s dead! Rebecca is dead! That is what they said! The state trooper just called!

Now able to look at him, between sobs, she proceeds to tell him that his daughter, Rebecca and his son-in-law, Rob, have been killed in a car accident.

What about the kids?

They were in school, but they are okay and staying with the neighbor right now.

With Laura more composed, James directs her to book him the next flight out, have someone pack his clothes, and to get that officer on the phone, I want to talk to him. I will head to the airport.

As he continued dictating orders to her he noticed she was turning white and was about to pass out. By then, others jumped in to help.

Someone carried her to a couch and checked her pulse as another yelled out, I have a flight that leaves in fifty minutes.

One of the men who had been sitting next to him in the board room is his good friend, Tom. They have known each other since law school. He walks over to James and puts his hand on his shoulder, Go take care of the kids. There is nothing here that we can’t handle without you for a time. I’ll have someone pack up some of your things and send them down on the next flight. Just go!

The news spread throughout the building making its way down each floor, and like all bad news, it traveled quickly. Just as James reached the elevator and pressed the down button, the receptionist called out, Sir, wait, I have him on the phone, the state trooper!

He turned and looked at her just as the doors opened, then hurried back to take the phone. Yes, I am her father. Yes, are you sure? Yes, I can do that. I am on my way now. I will call you when I arrive.

As he finished the conversation the receptionist handed him a piece of paper with the officer’s name and number. Numb with the confirmed shocking truth, James slowly hung up the phone and looked over to see a stream of tears running down her face. She tried to smile and maintain her professionalism, but failed. She put the note in his hand and pressed it tightly; her eyes fixed on his hand, unable to look him in the eye, Mr. Brannon, call if you need anything… anything at all.

Someone holding the elevator door stepped out and let Mr. Brannon ride down by himself. By the time he reached the first floor, even the doorman knew what had happened. People were just standing and watching, and some murmured, I am sorry to hear… while others stopped to give him a pat or a hug. As he walked out the door in to the street noise, it closed with a soft thud that echoed in the hall behind him. All eyes were silently on his back as he climbed into a yellow cab and raced for the airport disappearing in a sea of humanity.

Chapter Two

Smell of Death

The Funeral Home

James just barely made his flight on time and upon arrival at his destination, he rented a car. To get to his daughter’s house he had to drive for several hours and got lost more than once. His mind was fuzzy in this entire surreal situation.

How could this be happening, he thought and tried to concentrate on where he was going. When he finally drove into the outskirts of the small rural town, he found his cell phone had stopped working. He pulled in at an old gas station and called the state trooper to get the number of the neighbor who was caring for his two grandchildren. After talking to the trooper and getting directions, he found he would be going directly to his daughter’s house. The neighbor had wanted to keep them at home to help minimize the shock of it all.

Driving through town, he couldn’t help but notice how very small the town was, with a