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    Valley of Steel
    Valley of Steel
    Valley of Steel
    Ebook184 pages3 hours

    Valley of Steel

    By Ivan King

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    About this ebook

    Fate can be unkind. Would you dare to look back and risk her wrath? When you’re a child of the favela, in the Valley of Steel, you know that Fate comes like a whirlwind, lifting some to great heights and slapping others down with no reason.

    Ivan, rescued first from an orphanage in the slums of Rio de Janeiro and then from the bleak streets of Ipatinga in Brazil’s Valley of Steel, has been favored by Fate. When a call from Brazil interrupts his privileged life in America, he learns his best friend has committed suicide in the rugged Valley of Steel and only he knows the real reasons why.

    This is the story of one man’s journey home after a self-inflicted exile. The story of a boy who saw more than any child should, and the man he grew into—and how that man came back to the Valley of Steel to avenge his childhood and stare down the demons of his past.

    It is a story of survival, redemption, and joy. Of childhood memories that burn in the soul—and what happens when one man has courage enough to fan the flames and face the fire.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherIvan King
    Release dateJan 31, 2016
    ISBN9781310338250
    Valley of Steel
    Author

    Ivan King

    Ivan King is an Award Winning and Best Selling Author of over 20 books. His #1 Book, Breakfast With Jesus, has become a major success internationally. Mr. King was born in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, in 1977, though his stay in Rio was to be short lived. Adopted from an orphanage, he was raised in Ipatinga's, Valley of Steel. His favorite author is Hemingway; yet his favorite book, is Steinbeck's Grapes of Wrath. When he is not writing or reading, he plays chess and the guitar.When Ivan was eight, he read his first book, Judy Blume's Superfudge and the rest is history. That's the story behind how the passion for reading began; how it ends...has yet to be written.Currently, he is working on a couple dozen writing projects and turning some of his novels into screenplays. Ivan’s first published work, The Dark Room, is a Fiction Novel loosely based on his life growing up in the favelas, or slums, of Brazil.Favorite quote: “In life, incredible things happen and unforgettable moments do exist; but nothing compares to having been loved by you, and though you rest in peace, I will miss and love you always.”If you would like to learn more about Ivan King, you can send him a message at:http://www.ivanking.com/

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      Book preview

      Valley of Steel - Ivan King

      VALLEY

      OF

      STEEL

      Ivan King

      All situations and events depicted herein are presented from the author’s perspective and perception. No harm is intended to any person, living or deceased, whom the author knows or has known.

      The author reserves all rights. Except for literary reviews, any use of this material, in whole or in part, or referenced in any way by any medium, including but not limited to electronic, mechanical, or digital copy, or any recording thereof (auditory, digital, or written), is forbidden without prior written permission of the author.

      This book, written by Ivan King, is a novel based on his life growing up in the Brazilian slum known as the Steel Valley.

      First published in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, 2007.

      Original title in Portuguese: Cemitério das Pedras

      VALLEY OF STEEL

      Author: Ivan King

      Editing: Tillie Ink Editing

      Cover Art: Tyler D. Masterson

      Publisher: Valley Group Media, LLC.

      Copyright: Ivan King/Valley Group Media, LLC.

      First Printing: May 2011, United States of America

      Table of Contents

      Hear What the Critics are Saying

      Editorial Review

      About the Book

      Message From the Author

      Valley of Steel

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Excerpt From Another Great Book

      Ivan King Library

      Meet the Author

      Hear What the Critics are Saying

      If you enjoyed The Kite Runner, then you’ll love Ivan King's Valley of Steel; it both made me laugh and cry. It is by far one of the best fiction novels for young adults I have read this year. A Must Read.

      -Mary Jones -Valley Daily News

      This inspirational book for young adults was a great read; I have a sixteen year old son and both he and I read it; Great Book.

      -Judy B. Cohen –Elite Media Group

      I was looking for a book about dealing with depression and anxiety and a friend recommend this one. I won’t lie to you, by the end I was crying a bit. Highly Recommend.

      -Dave Baker -Book Bloggers of America

      My Daughter in Law recommended this book to me and so I bought it. I was trying to overcome the loss of a family member so the book really spoke to me. This is just me, but I thought the book was sad; as a coming of age tale for young adults, it sends a very Powerful Message.

      -Debra Eisner -Literary Times Inc.

      I actually borrowed this book from a coworker, read it, and then bought a copy for myself. Overall, I would say that it was a very unique story about the slums of Brazil and overcoming obstacles. Phenomenal Book!

      -Emma Righter -Writers United Group

      Very good story, it helped me a bit when I was dealing with the suicide of a friend. I give this one Ten Thumbs Up.

      -Carl Mosner –Readers Cove Unlimited

      Editorial Review

      In this gritty, yet beautiful and genuine Novel, loosely based on his life, Ivan King reveals what life was like growing up in a Brazilian slum. The events in this book are heart-warming and gut wrenching; forcing the reader to laugh and cry.

      The naked realism the author uses to tell his story of redemption is phenomenal. Few writers have the deep psychological insight necessary to expose their most vulnerable selves. Ivan King bares his emotional soul for us. Truly Inspirational.

      Sharon Schultz

      About the Book

      Fate can be unkind. Would you dare to look back and risk her wrath? When you’re a child of the favela, in the Valley of Steel, you know that Fate comes like a whirlwind, lifting some to great heights and slapping others down with no reason.

      Ivan, rescued first from an orphanage in the slums of Rio de Janeiro and then from the bleak streets of Ipatinga in Brazil’s Valley of Steel, has been favored by Fate. When a call from Brazil interrupts his privileged life in America, he learns his best friend has committed suicide in the rugged Valley of Steel and only he knows the real reasons why.

      This is the story of one man’s journey home after a self-inflicted exile. The story of a boy who saw more than any child should, and the man he grew into—and how that man came back to the Valley of Steel to avenge his childhood and stare down the demons of his past.

      It is a story of survival, redemption, and joy. Of childhood memories that burn in the soul—and what happens when one man has courage enough to fan the flames and face the fire.

      Message From the Author

      In order for you to fully understand my journey, we have to go back; we have to start from the very beginning, we have to return to The Valley of Steel……

      Sometimes, there’s a big difference between the person we are and the person we wish we were.

      Ivan King

      Valley of Steel

       CHAPTER 1 

      After a long and emotionally exhausting trip, the plane began its final descent. I saw the monument I had not laid eyes on in over twenty years: the statue of Christ the Redeemer. Not until that precise moment had it seemed so magnificent or held such true meaning for me. It was as though, full of grace and understanding, Christ’s wide-open, benevolent arms were personally receiving me back home. I shivered as a myriad of emotions took hold of me.

      At that moment, I took a long, hard swig of something I knew would never judge me: tequila on the rocks. It was the only thing I could do to keep my emotions at bay—or, at the very least, to numb the pain for a little while. For the time being, I was engrossed in the image I beheld outside the small, rounded window of the plane. Almost as though hypnotized, I felt incapable of diverting my eyes from it. Then my mind jolted back to the circumstances that had brought about my return….

      ***

      It all began with a simple phone call during a rainstorm three nights back. The moment I answered the phone I recognized the voice, though I had not heard it in many years. It was clearly the voice of Fernando, the brother of my best friend Nene. The funny thing is that Fernando and I had never spoken much; yet before I could assimilate the fact that I was actually speaking to him now, he dropped a bombshell on me.

      Nene is dead.

      I was so shocked that I felt unable to utter a word. It was surreal; I couldn’t believe it was true. After a couple of tense moments in which neither of us spoke, I finally worked up the courage to ask, How did he die?

      When I heard the answer, I almost wished I hadn’t asked, for it was absolutely the worst thing I could ever be told about someone I cared deeply about.

      He committed suicide, Fernando said, in a flat, despondent voice.

      Physical pain instantaneously set in. The sensation was so overwhelming that my arms went numb and my knees buckled. It was as if my heart had been ravaged and could no longer pump blood to my extremities.

      After getting details about the funeral, I hung up and called my mother. She picked up on the third ring.

      Mom? Listen, I need to go home for a couple of days.

      What happened?

      It’s Nene. He’s dead.

      For a while, neither of us spoke. She was the first to break the awkward silence. Wow, I can’t believe it! How did he die?

      He killed himself. Saying it aloud was difficult for me, but it made it more real.

      After another long pause she asked, Are you going to see your father while you’re there?

      I don’t know. Maybe.

      Son, you have to put this behind you.

      I know. I’ll think about it.

      Would you see him for me?

      Mom, I said I’ll think about it. I promise. Listen, I have to get going. I’ll be back in a couple of days. I love you. I hung up the phone and started packing my suitcase.

      Even though I was physically present, at that moment my mind was wandering to a place thousands of miles away. My emotional state could be described only as chaos. The weight of Nene’s death was almost too much to bear. I had no time to stop and think. I simply needed to do what I felt had to be done. The God-awful part was the nauseating feeling I had deep down, as though I had been sucker-punched in the worst kind of way.

      I wanted to scream, to yell out at the top of my lungs, but knew it would be in vain. Nothing could take away the brutal reality that my best friend was dead.

      The moment I had avoided for so long had finally arrived. Until that instant, all I’d ever done was run away from it and hide. Always feigning that everything was okay, yet knowing full well that things would eventually come to a head. The ugly truth has a way of coming out—whether one wants it to or not.

      Somehow, I had always fooled myself into believing that I was dealing quite well with things that came my way. Thinking back now, however, I realize that I had learned to cope with my dark emotions by simply drowning myself in work. I had turned into a workaholic. On average, I worked 18 to 20 hours a day, Monday through Saturday, and sometimes on Sunday as well.

      I had convinced myself that if I realized my career goals and achieved financial success, all of my problems would miraculously go away. The great irony, though, is that it actually made things worse. The only thing I was truly able to accomplish was to destroy all meaningful relationships with the people around me, which had the undesirable consequence of isolating me socially. Nothing was more distressing than watching myself become an indifferent and cold individual, especially toward those closest to me.

      All of my charm and charisma, so greatly admired by friends and family, was in actuality entirely superficial. I saw myself as someone completely different, and I felt that what others observed from the outside was nothing but a gilded shadow of my former self.

      I was shocked to realize that I had lost my passion and zeal for life, which for so long had been one of my most defining qualities. I can’t pinpoint the exact moment that this happened, but life simply stopped being fun for me.

      It appeared that the little boy who had always been so happy and full of energy, and had constantly presented an electrifying smile to everyone around him, no longer existed. It was as if he had been devoured by remorseless wolves in an unforgiving world.

      Without realizing it, my life turned into a boring routine of work and sleep. I was a corporate drone, stuck in a rut. And like many cowards who run away from their problems, I dove headfirst into consumption of alcohol. My poison of choice was tequila. I never drank just any brand. With me it had to be either Don Julio or Reservations. I occasionally drank Reposado, but only if neither of the other two was available. More often than not, I drank something else, like whisky, especially if I happened to be in a particular mood and wanted to punish myself with an intolerable hangover.

      In spite of taking refuge in the bottle, I maintained an illusion of being in control. At the very least, I thought I could somehow manipulate the outcomes of events taking place in my life. I have since come to realize that no one is really capable of changing their destiny and that there are only two conditions in which we customarily find ourselves. We are either trying to get over some significant negative incident in our life or we are on the verge of dying. One thing is for sure: Nothing is precisely as it seems. Everything that happens to us is influenced by our perception.

      I was constantly searching for something, seeking to achieve some professional or personal—but elusive—goal. I spent most of my time running after the next great hurdle to overcome, but I was really doing nothing but chasing ghosts.

      My persistency has never known limits. Whenever I identified that next target to go after, I got up the determination not to stop until I hit it. I always prided myself on being the type of person who never took his eye off the ball, and I never gave up when it came to achieving goals and overcoming obstacles. I was always focused on my agenda and attentive to my commitments.

      Sundays and holidays were especially difficult for me, because I had absolutely nothing to do except be alone with myself—and, by extension, with my thoughts. Staying home all day and doing nothing wasn’t a good option for me. If nothing else, my good spirits would die of boredom. That’s why I sometimes worked on those days as well. I knew I would get peculiar looks from my co-workers, and understood that my eccentric ways did nothing to stanch the gossip about me.

      I knew that everyone at my place of employment took me to be a nut job with no social life, but I didn’t really care what my co-workers thought of me. Perhaps they weren’t so far off the mark, but no one I worked with really knew me. I felt strongly that if any of them were to walk in my shoes—even for only one day—they would understand my inner turmoil and suffering.

      One of my first bosses accused me of having a hostile attitude and a lot of pent-up rage, as if I held a grudge against the world. My explanation to him was that I was an intense individual, and that what he was seeing was someone very focused on reaching his objectives. It’s just my way, I consistently argued.

      I forced myself to confront life with an over-the-top aggressive attitude. I was convinced that anything short of that mode of being would cause my work to suffer.

      The truth is that I did feel a bit jaded and pissed off at the world. I just never envisioned my attitude affecting the people around me, or maybe I was simply too caught up in my own troubles to care. I was eternally frustrated, for it seemed that no matter how hard I tried I could never achieve what I really wanted, which was to be happy. Sometimes I wanted to scream my head off until all the frustration was gone, but I invariably repressed my feelings. I simply bottled them all in. If anything, that offered me an alternative to dealing with my emotional pain, but it actually made me more indifferent to my suffering.

      Thus what I once thought I could safely ignore had turned into the inevitable. The moment I had been postponing for so long

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