Out of the Darkness

About the Book

“Out Of The Darkness”

If you stop the average person on the street and ask them to name the seven wonders of world, do you think they would be able too? Some may, and some may know a few. Most would look at you as if you had three eyes. And in a world as large as ours, do you really think there are only seven wonders?

I know for a fact that at least one more exists. It has been kept secret for many years from the world’s population, except for those lucky enough to know of it. Now I will tell you of this secret place. But I can not tell you where it is. I must keep my word not to divulge it’s location.

My name is Martin Ober. I am now in my mid fifties and spent many of my early years fighting the sea for a living as a fisherman with my father. Life was difficult for us. Mother passed when I was two years of age. Father did all he could to provide for me. We lived mainly on our boat which we kept in the best shape possible. It was our life. Our whole life. We were always together. But as fate would have it, father passed before I turned twenty. I was left to fight the sea alone for a living. Sometimes one must suffer such a loss to find the path to happiness. I found such happiness in Kaboe Valley.

This story was first told by one of the elders of the valley. He was called Sardis. A small, fragile man well into his eighties, but with the mind of a much younger man. He had lived his entire life in Kaboe. He told his story to a man he met only by accident when the man anchored his boat the small island, where Sardis lived alone, to wait out an oncoming storm. This man was called Olin. He was a tall man, standing two heads taller than Sardis. Olin was a young man at the time, a very strong looking man with a beard as black as coal and eyes emerald green, skin darkened by the sun and hands rough and calloused by pulling in fish nets day after day. He too fought the sea for a living. Sardis and Olin became good friends. Sardis told him of a once beautiful valley protected by great rock walls that reached the sky. A valley that took an ancient river thousands of years to cut through the stone. The river was named Kaboe, and so the valley is also known as Kaboe, Kaboe Valley. The valley was green with vegetation. Small, fast running, sparkling streams found their way to a very large pond that sat silently with it’s clear, cool water reflecting the serene surroundings. Farm animals feasted on lush grass in the pastures that were moistened by light rains that fell once or twice a week. Large stone houses lined the dirt road that cut through the length of the valley. The only road. Painted frame houses sat amongst the stone houses, offering a picturesque splash of color. Life here was good. Everyone knew each other. . They even liked each other. People here were of all races and religions that melted into one. Many residents of the valley have lived there all their lives. Many were related. Few ever left and many outsiders came to the valley to purchase some of the freshest produce available for miles around. Some came to buy produce and never left. The people of Kaboe made the valley totally self sufficient. Anything they needed was obtained through either bartering or with tender from then sale of produce. Life here was good. But things can change, and change quickly.

One day the heavy rains came. Hard, pounding, cold rain. This was very, very unusual compared to the always gentle rains and mild weather everyone was used to. The rain was relentless. Day after day with no sign of stopping. The beautiful, peaceful valley of Kaboe was now flooding. Water filled the street and mud flowed through houses and buildings. Everyone was fearful the flooding would destroy life in Kaboe. Suddenly, just as fast as the rain started, it stopped. People came out of their homes and gathered in street standin

About the Author

About the author……… I was born in Brooklyn, NY a long time ago. How long? Too long ago! As far back as I can remember. I spent a lifetime working for the federal government, as a soldier for five years (Vietnam Vet) and as a postal worker where I worked my way up from a temporary employee to a high level Postmaster before retiring down south. And the South is where I am staying! After all, half of the people here are from up north anyway! Needless to say, it was a long, hard road to travel. I am sure many of you have had a long, hard road to travel also and reading is a short escape from reality. Many people have told me for many years that I had a very active imagination. I was just not sure if they meant that as a good thing, or a bad thing. Were they trying to say I was “nutso” or just gifted. I would tend to think more on the “nutso” side. You can decide for yourself after reading my book. Thank you for taking the time to read this book. If you like it, maybe you are “nutso” also!!! Frank Gee