Tell me a story, Mommy

Gerald had been walking for a long time.  The pain that had begun in his feet had now spread all the way up his legs, and the tiredness that had started in his eyes had spread through his brain and into his soul.  He wasn’t even sure why he was still walking.  There was no where to go.  Nothing in this valley was worth getting to, and there was no way out of this valley.

The dark trees pressed close on every side, shadows hung beneath their branches, tangled vines breathed out decay.  Gerald shuddered at one brushed his shoulder.  This was why he kept walking.  He couldn’t shake the feeling that if he stopped, those vines would wrap him up tight, and he would disappear forever.

Eventually, of course, he would have to stop, would have to sleep, as he had for nights past counting in this dreadful valley.  When he could walk no more, he would find a spot, something not too close to any one tree, make a small pile of leaves and sleep where he dropped.  He would wake with the first dim light from his dark dreams, and he would walk again.  There was nothing else to do.

Just as Gerald was about to face the beginning of another such horrible night, he heard a noise.  Not the eternal droning of the stinging insects, not the rustle of the creeping things among the leaves.  A sharp noise.  THWAP!  And again.  THWAP!  It was the sound of something different.  Something that didn’t belong among these trees.  Gerald loved that sound.

He walked faster on legs that didn’t know how, so the last few steps were a stumble out through clutching vines.  The first thing he notices on the other side was the sky.  He was standing under a sky he hadn’t seen for days past remembering.  He had grown used to the constant overhang of branches, so the vastness up above stopped him cold, as he breathed and breathed and breathed air that hadn’t been trapped under leaves until it was dead.  This air was coming from up there, up by those stars, Gerald imagined, because it had the tang of far away places, cleaner places.

With his head thrown back to drink in the sky, it was a few moments before Gerald even saw the giant balloon in front of him.  When he did, he thought it the most wonderful and terrifying thing he had ever seen.  A whole rainbow of the brightest colors stretched across it’s rounded surface, so brilliant after a lifetime of faded greens and browns that Gerald almost felt that he needed to shield his eyes.  Had anything ever been more alien than this globe of beauty in this hideous place?

“Oh yes,” said a voice, the first words Gerald had heard in so long, and a hand was placed on Gerald’s shoulder, the first touch Gerald had felt in so long.  “She really is amazing.”

Gerald turned to see who this mind-reader could be and saw a man in the second half of his life, strongly built and browned from a sun Gerald had forgotten.  The man was smiling as he studied his miraculous balloon, and Gerald thought him even more alien than the contraption.

“Come, friend, you have walked far.  You need rest and real food.  And I need to get back to work.”

Gerald saw then that the man was holding an ax in one hand, and he saw the branches strewn along was appeared to be the bank of a dried out river.  The man led him down across this choked stream bed and over to where his balloon rested.  A large basket was hung beneath that impossible ball, a basket big enough for a man to stand in, and from here the man produced bread and fruit and a jar of clear, cold water.  Gerald forgot everything else in the taste of something clean, something filling.  His legs gave way beneath him as he ate, and he slumped back against the basket, feeling something he couldn’t name, something warm and covered, like a rabbit deep in its hole.

While Gerald ate, he watched the man at his strange work.  All along the river bank he went, swinging his ax at the branches overhanging the dry river, attacking the trees with an energy that Gerald could not comprehend.  When he had gone several paces up the bank, he crossed over and resumed his attack on the other side.  When nothing but sky showed above the stretch of rocks and weeds, the man came and sat by Gerald, wiping his ax carefully and taking long drinks from the water jar.

Gerald’s questions pushed insistently out, “Who…?  What…?”  His voice, so long unused, resisted.

The man did not seem to notice any lack.  He answered the questions as if they had been whole, but his answers were as foreign as he was.  The balloon was one of a kind, made by his father.  It could float up off the ground and fly through the sky.  That was how the man came here, to this horrible forest, which he had seen from up above.  He had seen right away what needed to be done, and now he was doing it.

With that confusing information ringing in Gerald’s head, the man stood up and set back to work, this time with a shovel, digging out the brush along the bottom of the river, clearing a path for water that didn’t exist.  Gerald stared at this useless effort until his own exhaustion sent him off to sleep.

For two days Gerald watched the strange man work and thought about a balloon that could fly up over the tree tops.  The man had said that when he was finished with his work, he would get into that basket and let the balloon take him up and over the distant mountains to his home on the other side.  Gerald wasn’t sure if he believed the stories the man told about the other side of the mountains.  Open fields?  Wild flowers?  Clear, clean water?  Trees that gave fruit to eat?  That last part Gerald was sure was an invention.  Trees didn’t give.  Trees took.  They gobbled up sunlight and choked off space and consumed hope.

He did love to hear the man’s stories about flying, though.  The feel of wind on your face, the open air all around, the trees shrunken into insignificance below.  He even believed the stories.  After all, this man had come from somewhere, and it was certainly not this forest.

The man had said he would take Gerald with him when he left, when he finished his work.  All the third night, Gerald stayed awake and thought about this.  He thought about leaving, imagined himself in that small basket.  The man had shown him how the simple controls lifted the balloon up and brought it down.  Gerald pictured himself flying.  Then he thought about the man’s work.  He sweated from dawn until dark every day, and what was he accomplishing?  Clearing a river that had no water, gouging out part of a forest that would only grow back to cover it.  When would he ever be finished?

Just before daybreak, Gerald made up his mind.  Stepping over the sleeping man, he carefully untied the ropes that bound the balloon.  As he climbed into the basket, he could feel it beginning to rise just a little.  Gerald’s heart thumped wildly.  He reached for pull that would take him higher, trying not to look at the still-sleeping man below him.  Up he went, up, up, up.  The feeling was even better than the man had described.

Gerald rose above the trees.  The freedom was exhilarating.  He rose higher, felt a breeze, cold and sharp, that he had never felt before.  Higher and higher the balloon went, into air that smelled clean and fresh.  Gerald felt his head clearing.  He was more awake than he had ever been.

The sun peaked over the horizon, and the world opened up to Gerald’s eyes.  He saw the mountains, seeming so much closer from this height, thrust majestically toward the skies, their blue and purple sides emanating power, their frosted tops pointing up in challenge.  He saw the pale haze of the land on the other side, saw a twist of river and a sparkle of lake, a patchwork quilt of fields and orchards, where plants grew under the order of men and provided food for their masters.  It was a paradise.

Then Gerald looked down.  Below him stretched the dark forest, looking from here like a shadow upon the land.  The tangle of green was uninterrupted as far as the eye could see, bounded only by the impossible height of the mountains in the distance.  Gerald knew there were men under that dense carpet.  He had heard them, had seen traces of their passing, but they were all hidden, hidden from his eyes as from the sun’s rays which now played over the treetops, seeking a way through the branches and finding no entrance.

No entrance but one.  At last Gerald saw directly below, and he clutched the side of the basket with fingers that didn’t even feel the fibers.  For there was the river, cleared now for a quarter mile in either direction, a single line of pale brown cutting through that impossible green.  And Gerald saw it for what it was: a sign, a path, an arrow pointing straight at the mountains and freedom.

For a long time Gerald hung suspend in the air, dividing his longing looks between the beautiful haze in the distance and that one pitiful slash below.  He thought of life in a the clear air under the shining sun.  He thought of his life of wandering in the gloom, of the screams he had heard in the distance.

Gerald slowly brought the balloon back down through the treetops.  He was just tying off the last rope when the man woke up with his usual morning smile.  Gerald couldn’t quite smile back.  But after he handed the man his ax, he swung the shovel onto his own shoulder, and the two men set off along the riverbed together.

Once upon a time there was a teeny, tiny worm who lived in the house of a nice young family in this very town.  No one in the family knew he was there, because he lived quietly among the books on the tall shelves in the family room.  He was, of course, a book worm, and he took his job very seriously.

During the day, he wove his way in and out of the books, checking for problems and trying to help.  Some problems were simple, like bent pages and cracked spines which could be taken care of with some smoothing and a little binding glue.  Other problems were a bit more…challenging.  Like the time when someone scribbled all over Alice’s face in Through the Looking Glass.  Try as he might, the book worm could not get those stubborn marks washed off, and he didn’t dare break all the mirrors, for that would ruin the story.  He was able comfort her, however, with a special visit from the shy little kitten and a hot cup of tea, provided by the lovely sisters over in Pride and Prejudice.   Worse was the time when a corner got ripped off of Jack and the Bean Stalk and Jack climbed all the way out and into the science fiction books on the shelf above.  He was nearly swallowed by a giant sand worm before the book worm showed up with a thumper and dragged him home.  There was no way to repair the torn illustration, but you can be sure that Jack was much more careful after that.

These sorts of adventures and misadventures kept the book worm very busy, and he was happy to feel that he was successful in his work.  He had a knack for calming the wild things (as he really never needed to blink) and he knew exactly where the Jaberwocky liked his back scratched.  The family had no idea of the many catastrophes he prevented each week, and that was just the way he liked it.  After a long day of work, he would choose a nice book to curl up in (He used to favor fantasy  for the fascinating dreams, but he got so tired of being woken up by dragons and giant wolves that he switched over to basic travel books with their lovely beaches peaceful forests.) and hum softly to himself as he fell asleep.

The young family grew.  The children learned not to rip pages and scribble on illustrations.  The book worm was relieved.  The parents took the chapter books off the higher shelves and the white witch learned all over again that Aslan always wins, which made her much easier to live with.  Then, the children began to read for themselves.  At first, that was a happy time.  The poky little puppy got lots of exercise and Junie B. Jones got to let off some of that excess energy.

Then the disaster happened.

When he thought about it later, the worm thought that he should have known.  Children who would mark their spot by turning down page corners were bound to be careless from time to time.  Was it really such a surprise, then, when they went to bed one night leaving a pile of books scattered across the floor?  And really, that might not have been so bad if so many of them had not been…shudder…OPEN.

The first one he noticed was Little House on the Prairie, which would have been a disaster if the Indians had gotten out, but fortunately, only Jack the brindle bull dog burst from the pages, chasing a rabbit.  He was a very obedient dog, so a few stern words and he went straight home.  The book worm was just trying to locate the rabbit when he saw the other books.  Chapter books and picture books, fiction and non-fiction, at least a dozen books in all, lying open on the floor.  In moments it was pandemonium.  Goblins poured out of The Hobbit, the atlas emptied kangaroos and koalas onto the carpet, George Washington barked orders at everyone, and hippos went berserk.  There was no hope of sorting it all out.  It was all the book worm could do not to get trampled.

He scrambled up onto the shelves and looked around at the chaos.  The Sisters Grimm were fighting off Count Olaf, while the very hungry caterpillar ate his way through the Sesame Street cookbook.  What to do?  What to do?!?  The book worm knew he needed help, so he eyed the shelves, thinking through his options.  This would be tricky.  If he got the wrong pages, it would end in disaster.

He started with Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, making sure to catch Harry alone with Ron and Hermione.  They agreed to help at once, so he tipped their book, ever so carefully, and they leaped out, slamming the pages shut on Voldemort and drawing their wands.  Mother Goose was next, and even harder.  There was only one page, right in the middle of Snow White’s tale, that showed a bubbling cauldron standing all alone.  If the page turned even a little, the witch would be there, too.  The book worm braced himself in the exact spot and gave a final wiggle.  The book toppled over with a mighty thud.  The book worm waited, barely breathing.  Deep inside, the three billy goats gruff were making a lot of racket, but no witch’s cackle could be heard, only the soft bubbling of the potion above his head.  The book worm smiled.

It took the young wizards and the little worm most of an hour to douse everyone with the sleeping potion.  The very hungry caterpillar ate a dipped apple right away, of course, but the goblins were darting about everywhere, using their shields to keep the potion from hitting them, and the hippos each needed several doses to finally settle down.  Finally the book worm used himself as bait to lure the great goblin right into the cauldron itself.  After he went, the others were rounded up quickly.  At last, all the escapees were caught, and the floor was littered with slumbering children and snoring kangaroos.  The book worm began the long task of dragging everyone back into their books.  He just lugged the last hippo into place when the sun came up and he heard footsteps on the stairs.

“Oh, those kids,” someone said, as large hands began gathering up books, shutting them tight and placing them on the shelves.  The book worm breathed a sigh of relief, inching slowly off toward the Lonely Planet books, while the voice loudly explained to someone that books are never, EVER to be left on the floor.  He knew of a nice little hammock in Jamaica that would make the perfect place to take a nap.

For those of you few and faithful who come here and read the little things I eke out week after week, I give you an exclusive treat, an excerpt from The Book of Sight, my first novel which came out on Kindle yesterday.  Not much in the way of a thank you, I suppose, but there’s an even better one at the end.

Left alone on the bank of a rushing river in a giant underground cavern, sick with worry about her friends, and feeling the dark press in around her as if it would extinguish her little flashlight, it was easily the worst moment of Alex’s life.

She saw Logan and Dominic dive into the water and disappear from sight, and a panic rose up in her throat, almost choking her.  In that moment, it was all she could do to keep from throwing herself into the water as well.  But Dominic’s last words to her were still ringing in her ears.  Find something to use as a rope.  Her panic took a new direction.

She began to rummage, snatching up each backpack and dumping its contents on the ground.  A few items caught her eye but were rejected nearly as quickly as they were seized upon.  Some rubber bands.  A necklace.  Dental floss.  At that last one, Alex screamed in frustration.  This was useless.  There was nothing.  Then her eye fell on the ace bandage from her first aid kit.  But, no, it was only about two feet long.  Unless…

With sudden inspiration, Alex whirled around and seized the pile of discarded clothes.  It was perfect.  Starting with the socks, she tied everything together, carefully double and triple knotting, praying that getting wet would make the knot stronger.  Unsure how long a rope would be needed, she stripped off her own socks and shoes, adding the laces to the very end.  That was it.  The best she could do.

Gathering up the whole hodgepodge pile in her hand and balancing her flashlight on top, she began to make her way downstream as quickly as possible.  She had only gone about four feet when she slipped and, unable to catch her balance with her hands so full, sprawled face first on the rocky ground.  The soft rope cushioned her fall, and she was unhurt, but her flashlight rolled off with a thunk and went out.

By this time she could hear yelling very faintly from up ahead.  There was no time to lose.  She felt frantically around for the flashlight with no luck.  She knew she had no chance of feeling her way along in the dark.  Another yell reached her.  There was no choice.

Alex stood up and began slowly creeping along, praying she wouldn’t misstep and fall into the water.  Two steps, three, four.  She tried unsuccessfully to remember how far away the end of the cavern was.  More yelling.  Five steps, six steps.  She bashed her bare toe on a rock and cried out in pain.  Seven steps, eight.

With no warning, her right foot came down in about a foot of water.  She fell sideways this time, into the river.  Flinging out her hands to catch herself, Alex let go of the rope.  The water wasn’t deep, and Alex was able to get back up on the bank in no time, but the rope was gone, carried away by the rapid water.

Alex collapsed in despair.  She sat huddled alone on the bank in the dark, sobbing and dripping and shivering uncontrollably, listening as the shouting from downstream continued.  She didn’t know if she could bear to hear the last drowning cries of her friends.  Alex covered her ears and cried harder.  She had no idea how long she sat there, but at some point she heard something that caused her to raise her head.  It was quiet.

Was that it then?  Were they all dead?

A sudden sense of horror at being alone in the dark with all her dead friends spurred Alex into action.  She crawled back upstream, feeling carefully around for her lost flashlight.  When she arrived at the pile of junk that was the emptied out backpacks and realized that she had missed the flashlight, she had to stifle another sob.  She turned back, this time walking and trying to count the steps she had taken before falling.  A few steps in, she stepped on it, falling for the third time and skinning both knees.  Clutching the precious plastic tube to her chest, she felt for the switch.  A few frantic flips of the switch and a tightening of the battery cover later, the light came on.  Alex cried out in hysterical relief.

Now that she had the light, she had to decide what to do.  Should she just head out of the cave and go get help?  Or should she attempt to look for her friends?  Was there any chance that anyone was still alive?  The thought of hunting by herself in the dark and maybe finding someone’s body washed up on the bank was almost more than she could bear.  But in the end, she knew she couldn’t just leave without knowing for sure that no one still needed her help.  With only a short pause to put her shoes back on, Alex headed downstream again.

Now that she had the light to guide her and her shoes to protect her feet, it didn’t really take that long before she could see the wall of the cavern looming up ahead of her.  The roaring sound of the river was getting louder as she approached the place where the water crashed against the rock face, but she began to imagine that she could hear something else over the rushing sound.  Was that laughter?

Heart pounding, Alex moved forward even quicker.  Suddenly she heard shouting from the other side of the river.  She couldn’t make out all the words, but she definitely heard her own name.

“I’m here!” she yelled.  “Are you okay?”  Alex leaned forward with her flashlight, but the river was just too wide.

There was some response, but she couldn’t understand it.

“I can’t hear you!”

More indistinguishable shouting followed this and then a pause.  Finally several voices in unison reached her, “Go upstream!”

Alex did, moving slowly, aware that the others would be walking without the aid of a flashlight.  From time to time she shined her light out across the water.  Even though she couldn’t see the other side, she hoped they could see her light and that maybe it would help them walk.

When she arrived back at the pile of discarded belongings, Alex stopped to wait, leaving her light trained on the river.  It was several minutes before she heard the yelling again.   The water was a little quieter here, and this time she could hear Dominic’s voice, faint but clear.

“We’re all okay.  We made it.”

That’s from Chapter 19 of The Book of Sight.  You can get the whole book for Kindle on Amazon for only $.99.  And here’s the gift part, if you wait until April 1, you can get the book for free.  The free offer will only last for five days, so be sure to take advantage of it right away.  If you don’t have a Kindle, you can download the Kindle reader app for your computer, phone, or tablet and read it that way. 

And there’s already a sequel!  The next book in the Book of Sight series, The Broken Circle, is also available on Amazon, so you won’t be left hanging when you get to the end.

These two books are the first in what I plan to be a five book series about five friends who are given a book that changes their lives. Once they’ve read it, they are able to see things that have always been there but couldn’t be seen before. They meet wonderful creatures (and some terrible ones, too). They see beautiful, amazing things (and some hideous ones, too). Their lives which used to be flat and predictable are now rich and full and exciting, but they soon learn that they are going to have to fight hard to keep it that way. There is someone out there who will stop at nothing to keep the book a secret and stifle its power, and the kids will have to work together if they are going to survive.

There will be real paperback books available soon, too.  They will be coming in just a few weeks, and I expect to have a place to pre-order those on the Madison House Publishing website later this week.