Reflections of a Heart - Glover AKA "Wayne, Waymond Douglas
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This is a novel based on a true story about a teenager who took his father's car joyriding one night just for fun. He was pulled over and arrested and sent to a detention center for fifteen months and twenty-three days. Unbeknown to him at this time, that his life would never be the same. The punishment would leave him bitter for a very long time and his parents absences during his months of imprisonment only fanned the flames. The story takes a turn going into his third month inside the detention center after receiving a gift from God, a gift of writing. After receiving this gift he was able…mehr

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Produktbeschreibung
This is a novel based on a true story about a teenager who took his father's car joyriding one night just for fun. He was pulled over and arrested and sent to a detention center for fifteen months and twenty-three days. Unbeknown to him at this time, that his life would never be the same. The punishment would leave him bitter for a very long time and his parents absences during his months of imprisonment only fanned the flames. The story takes a turn going into his third month inside the detention center after receiving a gift from God, a gift of writing. After receiving this gift he was able to put light inside a very dark place. Even though the gift was a blessing, once he was released he suddenly became dysfunctional and he felt it was by design. The young man had felt he was the victim of systemic racism and that he had been trapped into a system that had taken his name and had replaced it with a number that would label him for many years to come. The months inside the detention center would transform him into a mean and cold-hearted individual. Soon he would become a career criminal and a two strike felon. His brief intermissions in and out of jails and prison turned him into a drug addict and alcoholic as a coping mechanism to get through a day. He would receive a rude awakening when he was released from prison the second time. His mother had lost her eyesight from diabetics. When she became blind, this is when the young man began to see.
Autorenporträt
I grew up in East Chicago, Indiana, a small town in Northwest Indiana, a short distance from Chicago, Illinois. I was raised on Carey Street inside a loving community in the hood. Trouble always had a way of finding me when I was young. One night in the summer of 1962 a friend and I took my dads 1959 brand new Oldsmobile joyriding after taking the keys while he was asleep. Unbeknown to me at the time that this would be the biggest mistake of my life. I was pulled over and arrested a short time later and taken to jail. When I went to court three days later I was sent to a detention center, I was fourteen years old at the time. I remained inside the detention center for fifteen months and twenty-three days and upon my release I was never the same again. This stint had made me dysfunctional and I felt it was by design. I had become a victim of systemic racism and had fallen prey into a corrupt system that had taken my name and given me a number that would label me for many years to come. A system designed to break me down, silence my spirit, and steal my joy. Going into my third month inside the detention center a very strange thing happened one night. For some unknown reason I went and got a sheet of paper and a pen and began writing funny stories and poems to amuse myself. Soon I began to share my writings with other inmates and staff who would laugh aloud as I would read. Suddenly the walls, inside this miniature prison, seemed less confining and I was able to smile again. God had blessed me with tis gift of writing to put some light inside a very dark place. Once I was released from the detention center I continued down to travel down the road of destruction, becoming a career criminal and a two strike felon, in addition to also becoming a drug addict and alcoholic. Even amid the chaos, a seed of hope remained buried deep within me-a glimmer of something greater than my circumstances. Writing has given me a refuge, a way to process the pain and make sense of my once spiraling life. It has become a quiet voice, whispering that my story wasn't over yet. My writing became my voice, my protest against the system that tried to silence me. By the time I was released the last time, I had a different resolve. Life outside wasn't easy; the world doesn't readily forgive and forget. But I have a mission now-one fueled by the understanding that my past did not and will not define my future. Through my words, I vowed to shine a light on the injustices I had faced and to inspire others to find their own light, no matter how dim it seemed. And so, the road to redemption began, not with a grand gesture or a sudden transformation, but with a pen in my hand and a determination to rewrite the narrative of my life.