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- Herausgeber: Jocks Haus
- Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
- Sprache: Englisch
When Robert Archer steps into the cupboard underneath the grandfather clock, sitting and the base of the stairs, he discovers the impossible: He is a sorcerer and the prophesized savior of a world named Paradoxia.
With the help of sorcerer, Tobin Wilkins, Robert learns magic. However, he soon discovers that his newfound abilities come with a price; he has an arch-nemesis named Archie Fluff, who will stop at nothing to see Robert fail.
If Robert wishes to save Paradoxia from Archie's evil plans, he must first learn to control his magic.
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023
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Robert Archer and The Grandfather Clock
H. R. HETTERLEY
In Reading Order
Robert Archer and the Grandfather Clock
Robert Archer and the Wizard Lightning
Robert Archer and The Grandfather Clock
H. R. HETTERLEY
Copyright © 2023 by Hope Renee Hetterley.
All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in either or by any means without the publisher's and author's written permission, nor may it be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
The CIP catalog record for this book is available from the National Library of New Zealand.
ISBN 978-1-7385806-1-3 (Paperback) ISBN 978-1-7385806-0-6(Ebook)
This book is printed and bound by print on demand from various sources.
Jocks Haus Publishing, 368 Cambridge Road, Te Awamutu, New Zealand, 3008. [email protected]
For everyone who has stuck with me.
Especially my friends and family.
Thanks for all the support you have given me.
Contents
THE GRANDFATHER CLOCK
Robert Archer lived an ordinary life at 2001 Baker Street in West New Brighton, Staten Island, New York. Like any other twelve-year-old boy, he enjoyed watching movies, playing video games, and playing sports. Everything changed on the Monday of his thirteenth birthday. Until Monday, life for Robert and his family was ordinary.
Mr. Peter Archer was a senior lawyer for Smith & Sons, a legal firm in Manhattan. He had sandy blond hair and blue eyes like his sons Robert and Miles Robert. Like Robert, he had never given up a fight. Cheeky, like Miles, Mr. Archer often played pranks. One Halloween, he made cardboard vampires and placed them in Robert's and Miles's wardrobes. Their screams shook the house.
Mrs. Elizabeth Archer taught Art and English at Queen's Elementary. She looked nothing like her sons but like her daughter Alice. Mrs. Archer had long blond hair with strawberry highlights, a pale, freckled complexion, delicate skin, and deep brown eyes. Like Alice, Mrs. Archer was intelligent, curious, and liked stories. She owned many books, stacked in a large oak bookcase in the reading area of their house, with a sign reading, No Noise and No Boys; it was Alice's idea; she painted it herself.
The journey began when Robert opened his eyes on a dreary Monday morning. His brother and sister's voices arguing over breakfast bounced up the stairs. The wintry breeze seeped through the fragile walls, making him shudder beneath his sheets. Robert quivered, slipping out of bed. The icy day nipped at Robert's toes as he scrambled to wear winter socks. The wind howled, rattling his window, as he hurried to dress. After dressing, Robert headed downstairs for breakfast.
Miles and Alice arguing wasn't the only sound soaring through the house this Monday. The walls of the house trembled with a deep, resonating hum. Robert's stomach lurched as the humming pounded through his body. Unease filled him more than the distressing hum. The humming vibrated Robert's eardrums, intensifying as he reached the bottom of the stairs. He shook with uncertainty and turned his head toward the sound. Tense silence accompanied the vibrating hum. The source of the humming was the grandfather clock sitting at the base of the stairs.
“Happy birthday!” Mr. Archer's sudden voice made Robert's heart race.
Robert's head spun toward Mr. Archer. With each deep breath, his heart rate decreased, and a sense of calm washed over him. Like every weekday, Mr. Archer sat on his reading chair, his gray-suited legs stretched across the sitting room. He sifted through the morning paper as he did every day. He wore his usual gray lucky socks, which he insisted helped him at work.
“Thanks, Dad.” Robert shifted his gaze once more toward the reading area. The humming drew his gaze back to the enormous grandfather clock, its ornate details catching the light. The clock's deep hum resonated through Robert's body, making his ears pop as if the pressure in the house had dropped. Intense vibrations shook the house, causing the floorboards to creak and groan beneath his feet. Robert swayed, unsteady on his feet.
“Happy birthday.” Alice's grin was contagious, making Robert flash a smile.
He tore his eyes from the grandfather clock and toward the dining room, where Alice sat with Miles and Mrs. Archer. At the table's center sat a plate laden with toast, and circling it sat various spreads. Robert's stomach rumbled as he gazed at the toast plate.
“Happy birthday.” Miles seized a slice of toast when Alice glanced away. He smothered it with peanut butter and devoured it in three large bites.
“Happy birthday.” Mrs. Archer sat at the table with a latte, glancing up at her now thirteen-year-old.
The grandfather clock caught Robert's attention, causing Mrs. Archer's words to fade into the background. A couple of seconds ticked away before Robert opened his mouth. “Mom, the grandfather clock is acting strange.”
“What do you mean, it's acting strange?” Mrs. Archer shot her son a questioning look, her eyebrows furrowed with curiosity.
“It's humming like it's about to explode.”
Mrs. Archer placed her coffee cup on her coaster, laughing. “I've never heard of an exploding clock!”
“Can't hear anything.” Miles ate another piece of toast while shooting glances at Alice. The toast fight was the most normal thing in the Archer house.
“Me either.” Alice glared at Miles as he took another slice of toast. “Leave some for Robert, you toast hog.”
Robert placed his hands on his hips, spinning towards Mrs. Archer. “Listen, if you don't believe me!”
“I'll take you up on that!” Mrs Archer strolled through the archway toward the clock. From the archway, she glanced at Robert and shrugged.
“I'm not making it up!” Robert's face turned red as Miles and Alice sniggered. “It's humming! The entire house is shaking. Can't you feel it?”
“No one seems to hear or feel anything, including me. I suggest having some toast.”
At a quarter to eight, Mr. Archer yawned, kissed his family, and left for work. Robert and Miles left for the bus stop, and Mrs. Archer and Alice headed to Queens Elementary. Robert and Miles waited a few minutes at the bus stop. The bus doors screeched and clunked open. Miles bounded up the worn steps onto the bus with urgency.
As Robert boarded the bus, the various smells overwhelmed him. The air reeked of musty socks, bitter coffee, spicy mustard, and syrupy cherry cola. The smell, the old seats, and the dirty windows made the bus unappealing. When new, the bus shone a vibrant gold. Now, it navigated the streets, a dirty mustard. The rubber surrounding the windows grew loose with time, and now the windows shook, threatening to pop out at any moment. As the bus came to life, Robert's stomach twisted in discomfort.
The bus wobbled and jerked as it merged into chaotic traffic. The busy streets rattled the bus, causing every pothole and sway to jolt the passengers. As Robert swung his head, the bustling streets whizzed past him in a blur of concrete and metal. People shuffled in crowds along the footpaths, as usual. And a paper man delivered papers to local shops every weekday. He waved at the bus driver as the bus passed his delivery van. Everything was normal until the haberdashery.
As the bus rumbled past the haberdashery, Robert's senses became alert. His neck prickled with goosebumps, and a low hum pulsed in his ears. A bright light caught Robert's attention, pulling his eyes like a magnet toward the haberdashery window. There, standing amidst a fluttering robe, stood a wizard. The wizard held his palms out, and bright blue flames danced in his hands. Mesmerized by the sight, Robert's heart raced with excitement. The wizard and Robert locked eyes, and power vibrated through Robert's chest.
There was a sudden loud screech, and the bus driver hit the brakes. With a forceful strike of his palm, the bus driver unleashed a blaring horn that echoed through the street, his eyes locked in a fierce glare at the cab driver ahead. With two wheels on the curb, the cab driver waved out the driver's side window. A torrent of blaring horns resounded throughout the frosty street. The horns died as the cab driver left the curb with bangs and screeches.
“Sorry about that. Is everybody okay?” Concern laced the bus driver's voice. He glanced in the rear-view mirror, studying his passengers.
Robert followed his gaze towards the back of the bus, his eyes scanning the seats. When Robert glanced back at the window, the wizard had vanished. As the traffic moved, Robert's eyes traced the outside of the bus, taking in the sights of the bustling city. Tall skyscrapers loomed in the distance, a red sun rising behind them, casting an orange glow across the sky. The wizard occupied Robert's mind the entire time.
Robert's mind shifted from the wizard to his birthday dinner. Mouthwatering pizza, loaded with cheese; stretchy and delicious. So elastic and tasty that it pours from every slice peeled from the box. The bus lurched to a stop, and more passengers boarded. A boy with bright green eyes was the last to enter, descending the aisle toward Robert.
“Can I sit here?” The boy appeared around Robert's age, with a heavy Australian accent. Robert had been riding the bus for months but didn't recognize the boy. He wore a jacket, gloves, and a small hat, revealing his ears. Locks of hair spilled out from beneath the hat's rim. His hair was darker than Alice's, but only by a fraction.
“New friend, Archer?” A boy's nasal voice called from the back. As soon as he spoke, Robert's ears rang. The voice belonged to Michael Rivers. Michael's continual teasing scraped against Robert's nerves, much like sandpaper. Robert removed his backpack from the seat beside him, creating space for the boy to sit.
“Your surname is Archer, right? What's your first name?”
“Robert. And you are?”
“Seth Rowe.”
“I haven't seen you before?”
“First time on the bus. Today is my first day at Staten Island Middle School. Going to a new school makes me cringe. I've changed schools three times in the past year. My dad left. Mum moved back to New York from Perth. She keeps changing jobs. We've moved from New Brunswick to Staten Island.”
As the bus arrived at Staten Island Middle School, the chatter grew louder as the students prepared to disembark. As the doors opened, the students surged forward, each one eager to be the first to step onto the footpath. Pushing and jostling, the students surged towards the exit—bodies brushing past each other like a living organism slithering towards its destination. As the students spilled out onto the footpath, the ground trembled beneath their feet like a mini earthquake.
“What's your home group?” Shuffling feet and chatter surrounded them as students rushed to their classrooms. Evading the bustling students, Seth continued, “I'm in D-2.”
“With Mrs. Brown? Follow me.”
The boys' breathing pulsed in their ears as they trudged through the snow, undeterred by the loud, howling wind. The air was so frigid that tiny needles pricked their skin, making them shiver. Their homeroom was a welcome sight, especially after their ears went numb from the cold.
“Robert. You legend!” With lightning speed, Nicholas Hamilton leaped toward the front of the classroom upon seeing Robert. Despite being a new student at Staten Island Middle School, Robert had already established himself as a star athlete. At the sports day event, he emerged victorious by beating Nicholas in the competition. This achievement earned Robert a front-page story in the Staten Island Middle School newspaper, The Islander.
“Happy birthday, Robert.” Gretchen's strawberry perfume wafted through the air. Robert turned toward her, heart pounding. Gretchen's perfect curls cascading down her shoulders added to her stunning appearance. Her blue eyes sparkled and glistened in the sunlight like marbles polished to a high shine. Clacking heels near the door interrupted Robert's response.
Mrs. Brown strolled down the narrow hallway, her footsteps echoing against the walls. The closer she came, the whispers and laughter grew fainter and fainter. With a confident stride, she entered the room, her gaze sweeping over the peaceful students. The students shuffled to their seats, creaking chairs filling the room. In three swift strides, Mrs. Brown moved across the room and settled at her desk. With an attendance sheet in hand, she read names.
As the bell rang, signaling the end of homeroom, the students filed out of the classroom, their footsteps echoing in the hallway. Upon exiting the courtyard, the class shuddered as a sharp, icy wind tore through the double doors and swept down the corridor. Robert's ears again went numb, and as he rubbed at them, a swarm of people closed in on him from all sides.
The swarm raced toward him with lightning speed. The snow beneath their feet crunched with each step, releasing tiny clouds of white powder into the air. Robert shivered as the icy air cut through his skin, causing his cheeks and hands to tingle. His eyes darted around, taking in the sea of unfamiliar faces surrounding him. Friday had changed his popularity. Miles, whose homeroom was in C-Block, watched with a wide grin as the scene unfolded.
“What's going on?” Seth's gaze flickered towards Robert, who wore a flushed expression of embarrassment. “I've never seen such a swarm.”
“Last Friday's sports day went well for me.”
“Sport isn't my thing. I enjoy weightlifting. My friend in Australia and I lift weights most weekends. It's been a year, and my muscles are deteriorating.”
“Robert!” A voice reverberated in the air from behind him. “Are you trying out for the athletics team?”
At the sound of the unexpected voice, Robert's head snapped in its direction. With water droplets clinging to his hair and clothes, the third-place winner appeared before him, shivering from the cold. The rain poured, forming a rhythmic tune as it beat on the school terrain. “I'm off to high school next year, so no!”
“Me too. If we attend the same high school, maybe we should join the athletics team together.”
“Sounds like a plan!” Robert's gaze shifted away from its original focus and settled on Seth. “Our English class is by the field. The teacher's outstanding, but the classroom smells damp and moldy.”
“The chilly weather here is still taking some getting used to.” Shivering from the cold, Seth rubbed his arms to warm himself up. His gaze swept across the sky, noting the monotonous shade of gray that stretched above him. “The winters in Australia are nothing compared to this.”
A powerful tremor shook the earth beneath him when Seth finished speaking, leaving him disoriented. Robert remained oblivious, even as the students stopped in their tracks and gawked at him with wide-open mouths. As the students closed around him, their pale faces mirrored their fear, and their bodies quivered with terror.
“Whoa! That was scary.” In a sudden burst of energy, a boy sprinted towards Robert, his face paler with each step. “Are you alright?”
“Did you see that?” A girl shot forward, her entire body trembling, her heart pounding. “I can't believe that happened.”
“What happened?” Robert's heart thudded and pounded like a drum. He gasped for breath, taking short, shallow puffs. The thumping of his heart overpowered any other noises.
“You just got hit by lightning!” Seth's voice trembled with shock, his hands shaking.
“I did not!” As he gasped for air, Robert's heart pounded in his chest, its beats quick and frantic.
“Yes! You did.” Amid the bustling crowd, Gretchen appeared, surrounded by a sea of faces. “It was the most frightening thing I've ever seen.”
The wide-eyed stares from his friends and the surrounding crowd caused Robert to doubt himself. According to their claim, they had witnessed the lightning bolt striking him. Lightning bolts are three hundred million volts. If it hit him, the energy's impact would have been disastrous. He glanced at the sky. As if by magic, a bolt of light split the black clouds, revealing a clear blue sky.
Seth spoke with unwavering belief. “We're not joking! Didn't you hear it? Three loud booms and a bang.”
“There was a blinding flash.” Gretchen's eyes widened as she moved closer to Robert. “And a loud zap.”
“I didn't hear or see anything, and I'm sure lightning didn't strike me. I'd have felt it.”
“Wait!” Seth's eyes widened, reflecting his excitement. “I can prove it! Does anyone have a mirror?”
Gretchen rummaged through her schoolbag and retrieved a tiny travel mirror. The mirror flicked open, and Gretchen thrust it towards Robert's face. As if electrocuted, Robert's hair stood in a wild mess. He touched his hair, the heat emanating from his scalp, taking the chill off his fingertips.
“So, are you telling me you didn't feel a thing?” In disbelief, Seth's eyes widened to the size of saucers.
“No, I didn't! I swear.” With a trembling voice, Robert reached inside his bag, his fingers brushing against an object's smooth, fluffy surface. He pulled out his old, worn hat, its faded fabric telling stories of countless adventures, and placed it on his head. “Let's get going. We don't want to be late for English.”
As Robert made his way to his English class, the hushed whispers followed him like a shadow. Once inside, it didn't take long for Mr. Jackson to spot Seth.
“What a marvelous surprise!” The sun's rays streamed through the windowpanes, filling the room with a comforting warmth. In the distance, the slow advance of black clouds drew nearer. “We are welcoming a newcomer to our student population. What's your name?”
“Seth.”
“Do you have any interesting facts about Australia to share with us? Tell us a little about your life.”
The harsh glow of the bright fluorescent lights bathed Seth's face, accentuating his features. The class awaited Seth's response as the color drained from him, leaving him as pale as a ghost. Seth's piercing green eyes darted from one face to another as he scanned his new classmates. His heart raced, pounding against his ribcage, while his stomach churned with knots of anxiety.
As he struggled to speak, a sudden burst of inspiration struck him. It wasn't something remarkable, but it would suffice. Before speaking, he took a few deep breaths, trying to calm the lump in his throat. “We raised kangaroos when I was younger. Some poachers killed their mothers, and we nursed them until they were old enough to return to the wild.”
The room was silent, except for the hum of the faulty air conditioning unit. A wave of energy rippled across the classroom, causing a stir among the students. Soon, all the students caught the enthusiasm, and the room buzzed.
“Cool!”
“Did you keep any?”
“We returned them all to the wild. We only made sure they survived.”
“Do you have any photos?”
“Not on me. I can bring some in another day.”
“That's a brilliant idea!” Mr Jackson moved back to the attendance roll. “Welcome to Staten Island Middle School!”
A new student entered the room. The boy exuded an air of sophistication with his crisp white shirt and ironed pants. He scanned his new classmates, observing them with a piercing gaze, noting every detail. The boy turned to face Mr. Jackson, his posture remaining impeccable.
Mr. Jackson glanced up from the attendance roll and into the boy's icy eyes. “Who might you be?”
When the boy opened his mouth, a distinct British accent flowed from his lips. “My name's Archie Smith. Where may I sit?”
“You can sit anywhere you'd like.” Mr. Jackson's face lit up with a smile as he gazed at Archie. “But before sitting, share an interesting fact about yourself to break the ice.”
“I have no parents. I'm an orphan.” Archie swayed back and forth, shifting his balance from one foot to another. “They died when I was young. I lived with my gran until earlier this year.”
“Where do you live without parents?” Jason Nicholas squinted from the middle of the class to get a better look at Archie. With his lean and towering frame, Jason stood head and shoulders above his classmates. Even seated, he still towered a few inches above Robert.
“In a penthouse in midtown.” Archie scanned the room, his eyes darting from one corner to another, searching for a spare desk. “My parents left it to me in their will.”
“Who do you live with?” Jason acted like an aspiring reporter, getting the perfect story.
“Mr. Millar.” Archie halted his desk, scanning, and directed a fierce glare at Jason. “He serves not only as my butler but also as my guardian.”
Jason's body jerked with such force that he came close to catapulting out of his chair. “You have a butler! Did your parents have a lot of money?”
“They had a penthouse.” A blush spread across Archie's face as he and Jason's eyes met. “For me, their presence is more valuable than the penthouse. Wouldn't it be preferable for your parents to be alive?”
“But you own a penthouse!” Jason's voice pierced the tense silence like a sharp blade. Despite Archie's flushed face, Jason continued, unaware of the tension he was causing. “Why are you going to school on Staten Island?”
“Because I wanted to!” Archie's temper detonated, his booming voice bouncing off the classroom walls. He glared at Jason, his eyes filled with a fiery intensity.
“Why did you decide to come here? If I had a choice, I wouldn't. I would go to a private school and hang out with celebrities!”
“Alright, Jason, that's enough,” Mr. Jackson signaled for him to stop. “Archie, please take a seat. Welcome to Staten Island Middle School.”
Archie sat behind Jason, shooting hateful looks at the back of his neck as if plotting his vengeance.
Mr. Jackson stored the attendance roll in his desk drawer. “Today is the creative writing day we planned last week. You have thirty minutes to draft a short story. You have the liberty to choose any subject for your writing.”
The writing task electrified the classroom, sparking creativity and excitement as each student poured their ideas onto paper. Mr. Jackson stood back as his students dove into the world of storytelling, endless possibilities. The classroom was silent, with each student engrossed in their writing. With each stroke of his pen, Seth captured the intensity of the lightning strike on paper. With each word, Robert's description of the wizard in the window became more and more enchanting. The writing period went past in a whirlwind of thoughts and ideas.
Seth swung his head toward Robert. “Would you like to read mine?”
Robert and Seth swapped stories. Amusement danced in Robert's eyes as he turned to Seth. “Blue lightning? That's a new one for me.”
“Fiery palmed wizard? Never heard of that, either.” Seth shot Robert a skeptical frown. “Did a wizard appear in the window?”
“Perhaps, or it could be nothing. Did a bolt of blue lightning hit me?”
“I'm telling you, it was blue! You can ask anyone, even Gretchen. I swear it was blue.”
“As I looked into the haberdashery window, I caught sight of something, although I'm not sure what it was.”
“It's the strangest Monday I've ever had.” Seth leaned back in his chair, amused.
Mr. Jackson's watch beeped, signaling the end of the activity. Students engaged in a frantic race to finish their last sentences. “Your time is up. Hand your stories up, and I'll choose one to read.” Excitement rippled through the room as the students passed their papers forward. Everyone held their breath, waiting for Mr. Jackson to choose. While Mr. Jackson scanned the stories, something caught his attention. “I'm curious, Archie. Is this story fictitious, or do you have a cat named Mr. Snuggles?”
“Yes, I have a cat named Mr. Snuggles. I got him for my thirteenth birthday. He's the best. It's the last thing my gran bought me before she died.”
“Wonderful! I'm a devoted cat lover myself. I have three at home: Molly, Pudding, and Possum. Molly is ginger. Pudding is white with black spots and looks like cookies and cream ice cream, and Possum is black with a white streak down her back.”
“Mr. Snuggles is white, with a black spot below his chin. It looks like he's wearing a bowtie.”
Jason let out a howl of laughter, clutching his sides, tears streaming down his face.
Mr. Jackson, wearing a mischievous smile, shifted his attention to Jason. “I would love to read your story, Jason. However, I'm not sure a tale about impressing women in bikinis with a double-jointed thumb is appropriate.”
The class erupted with laughter, and Jason slunk back in his chair, face crimson, waiting for Mr. Jackson to read Archie's story.
By lunchtime, Robert had tamed his frizzy hair into a light mess. A disquieting sense of doom hung in the air, overshadowing his concerns about his hair. An ominous vibe hung over the day, casting a shadow on everything. The constant feeling of danger looming made it impossible for Robert to relax, and he looked over his shoulder every few seconds. He swore something was hiding in a bush, waiting to pounce from the bush and devour him.
Miles approached with his group of friends. “I heard you got zapped.”
“If you're referring to my near-death experience of being struck by lightning. Yes, I did almost die.”
“Did you get hit by lightning?” Miles's friend George sat opposite Robert and took out a can of soda.
“He didn't feel a thing. I've been trying to convince him all day it happened.” Seth grinned at Robert, who rolled his eyes. “Not sure if he'd ever believe me.”
“You got lucky!” George turned to Robert, his furrowed brows and tight lips revealing a severe expression. “Most lightning strikes are fatal, and those that don't leave you in a terrible state.”
Robert rummaged through his lunchbox, looking for something else to eat. He found a muesli bar his mother had packed alongside a sandwich, biscuits, and fruit. He peeled off the wrapper and took a bite, savoring the chewy texture and the sweet, nutty flavor. Seth's lunchbox was a treasure trove of junk food - muffins, cookies, crisps, sandwiches, fruit, and sweets. He munched away on a packet of crisps, relishing the salty crunch. Seth was a heavy-set boy with thick, curly strawberry blond hair darker than Alice's.
“Do you want a lolly?” Seth held out a small, colorful packet. “I have an entire packet in here.”
As Robert entered the Art Class, the sweet scent of candy lingered on his breath. Archie muttered something under his breath as he sat behind Jason.
“What was that?” Jason spun around, with irritation bubbling up inside him. “Did you say something?”
Jason's face reddened as Archie grinned and sat back in his chair, crossing his arms.
Mrs. Brown faced the class. “Today, we are sketching. Get out your sketch pads and your charcoal pencils and sketch a snake. Make it as realistic as possible.”
The class pulled out their canvases and charcoal pencils and sketched. Thirty minutes ticked by before Mrs. Brown stirred. She shuffled towards Archie's desk. Her footsteps creaked on the wooden floorboards as she moved, her eyes scanning the sketches before her. Like a hawk circling its prey, she leaned over Archie's shoulder. “How's the sketch coming along, Archie?”
Archie's snake had a monstrous head and a smaller tail than usual. Its eyes had a peculiar shape, and its tongue resembled a pitchfork more than a snake's. Jason peered over Archie's shoulder and reddened with laughter. “I take it your talents are elsewhere. Seen nothing so terrifying.”
“I don't need reminding.” Archie slammed his sketchbook shut and folded his arms across his chest.
Leaning in, Mrs. Brown's eyes widened in amazement as she inspected Robert's captivating sketch. Robert's hand moved, adding the final touches to his drawing. “Marvelous! Bravo Robert. That's a snake.”
Robert's attention to detail was meticulous. He brought the three-dimensional sketch to life by rendering every line and shadow, creating a sense of depth and dimension. The scales on the page glistened and shimmered. Each scale appeared alive, thanks to the play of light and shadow that highlighted its iridescence. Archie's cheeks flushed, and his eyes bore into the back of Robert's head. Robert's neck tickled as if spiders crawled along his hairline. The prickling vanished as the bell rang.
Robert strode down the corridor, ignoring Jason and his friends' laughter and mocking Archie's drawing. Archie pushed past Robert, scowling. Their eyes met, and a cold tingle surged through Robert's abdomen. Robert shoved the doors open and stepped out into the courtyard. The minute his feet touched the concrete, the rain pelted down, almost like it was waiting for him.
The coal-colored clouds rolled across the sky in an endless canopy. Robert hurried towards the bus stop with his clothes drenched from the ceaseless downpour. The rain pelted down so hard that the raindrops smashed into the ground like bullets. Robert sped through the school like he navigated a war zone. He reached the bus stop, soaked. His clothes hung from his body like a loose layer of skin; every step he made boarding the bus came with a loud sloshing. The bus heater was the only thing keeping Robert from a wet chill.
The entire way home, Robert wasn't focusing on the humming from the grandfather clock. He wasn't focusing on the wizard in the haberdashery window, the lightning strike, or the mysterious prickling of his neck. Robert focused on pizza, and once home and out of his wet clothes, Robert made his way downstairs for dinner.
Mrs. Archer bore no expense on dinner. Robert had an entire pie, garlic bread, and a bottle of soda, and he devoured everything as if he hadn't eaten for months. After dinner, the Archer family readied themselves for bed. Robert slid into bed and closed his eyes. The warmth of the sheets brushed against his skin. He drifted to sleep, unaware of the surprise awaiting him at midnight.
***As the clock ticked closer to midnight, Pius Griffin sat alone in his office, surrounded by towering stacks of paper. As the wind picked up, it rattled the stained-glass windows with the force of a hurricane. A voice grew louder and louder as it traveled the corridor.
“Pius! Pius!” The urgent voice of his secretary, Mavis Wood, echoed through the empty hallway. Her footsteps clacked against the polished stone floor, each step growing louder and more frantic. The oak double doors to Pius's office burst open, and Mavis stumbled inside, her face flushed with urgency. She almost tripped over the coat rack. Instead, she sent the coat rack plummeting onto the stone floor with a clatter.
“Watch where you're going!” The coat rack wrenched itself off the office floor with a creaking groan. It stood upright, its wooden frame quivering with agitation. The rack's hand-shaped hanger scooped the jackets from the ground. It shook the coats straight and glided back to its designated spot beside the office doors. Mavis shot the coat rack an apologetic glance before barreling toward Pius, bringing with her a gust of wind, sending his papers flying in all directions.
“What in Paradoxia's the matter, Mavis?” Pius rose, stepped away from his desk, and gathered the fallen papers.
“I have some incredible news. You won't believe it. It's wonderful.” Mavis stood panting and shaking with excitement, her face red and hands clammy.
“Take a breath and sit down.” Pius rubbed his face, trying to ease the tension in his tired muscles. “Whatever it is, it can't be worth dying over.”
Mavis paced back and forth, her eyes filled with excitement as she shot glances at Pius. “Out of nowhere, a new boy appeared on the manifest.”
“I may already have his paperwork. One thousand more flew through the mail slot just minutes ago.”
“That's not what I meant!”
A brilliant blue light flooded the room, casting long, dancing shadows across the furniture and floor. Pius leaped from his chair, his heart racing, and rushed to the window. Against the backdrop of the black canvas, three stars sparkled like diamonds. A dazzling blue light illuminated the valley below in a split second as lightning tore through the sky. “Blue Lightning and the Tri-Star, on Alignment Day! The boy's a peculiar?”
Stepping over the disorganized pile of paperwork, Mavis joined Pius next to the mesmerizing stained-glass windows. The stained-glass images seemed to come to life, parting ways before her eyes.
“I must find the book. I know I have it somewhere.” Pius whirled around, his heart pounding in his chest. Fixated on the ancient wooden trunk, he marveled at its weathered surface, embellished with rubies and cryptic symbols. With renewed energy, he raced toward it.
He wrenched the trunk open with a quick tug, the hinges creaking in protest. Dust and decay wafted out as he reached inside. The rough texture of an old leather lining tickled his fingertips. After minutes of meticulous searching, he unearthed a colossal book. It's a brown leather jacket adorned with rubies and embellished with symbols.
A thick, rough, beige rope closed the book, and Pius untied the bindings. With reverence, he flipped through the yellowed pages, feeling the delicate paper beneath his fingertips, until he found the prophecy. “An Archer, last of the dragon line. A peculiar December was born, whose gifts entwined. Tri-Star and the wizard's lightning blessed a Paradoxian night. Rare signs on this savior's night. May the darkness and the dark ones fear him. And tremble at his might.”
“When I stepped through my morning porthole, I never guessed what Alignment Day would bring.”
“Nor did I. There's something I need to inspect before making plans, the manifest.”
“I'll be back as quick as a fairy.”
Rushing out of Pius's office, Mavis quickened her pace, the watchful gazes of the Elders in the portraits following her down the corridor. Their eyes followed her every move until she reached a small nook by a set of double doors adorned with two sleeping faces snoring. She went over her desk and snatched a voluminous, elongated book before returning. Pius snatched the manifest from Mavis's hand and examined it without hesitation.
“I need your wand.” Pius extended his hand, his palm facing upward. “Mine's at the Repair Center.”
“The pixies have repaired your wand twice this month already! It would be best if you were more careful. What did you do this time?”
“I sat on it.” Puis reddened. “Yes, I know. You'd think I'd be more careful being an Elder, but sometimes I make mistakes. Your wand, please.”
Mavis reached into her pocket and retrieved a long golden-tipped wand, the glint of the moon reflecting off its polished surface. “Just don't destroy it. I have a magical painting class tomorrow, and we must bring our wands.”
Pius's hand clenched around the wand, his knuckles turning white as he pointed it at the manifest. “Manifesto Ostendo.” As Pius observed with excitement, the page before him came alive with shimmering golden letters. “Robert Archer. 2001, Baker Street, West New Brighton, Staten Island, New York. Bloodline of the Dragon.”
“The dragon bloodline.” Mavis's breath once again quickened. “Presumed to have all perished!”
“The Tri-Star, along with the lightning, serves as undeniable proof, Mavis.”
Mavis took a deep breath, and her eyes glinted in the Tri-Star's light. “What shall we do?”
“We need to organize things. But we must keep everything a secret. Robert's in danger without realizing it. His magic will be too powerful, and it won't be long before it attracts unwanted attention. You know what that means?”
“Paradoxian Portholes.”
“Yes. He'll have to adapt once the portholes find him. Acting fast is crucial to making sure everything's in order. Our top priorities now are protecting Robert Archer and retrieving my wand.”
The once-dark sky transformed into a brilliant blue expanse with fluffy white clouds. Pius and Mavis fought to stay upright, grasping for anything to steady themselves.
“I'll never get used to that.” Mavis's complexion turned a sickly shade of green, and her stomach churned.
“You possess extraordinary strength. Unlike my brother, who still collapses when the alignment ends.”
“As does my husband.” Mavis laughed as she clasped Pius's desk tighter.
“I don't understand why people still drink elixir on Alignment Day. Even the experienced Paradoxians get sick when the alignment ends.”
“Neither do I. I have enough trouble balancing, as you can see. Once the dizziness subsides, I'll get started. Robert Archer's fate is in our hands.”
THE GREEN DOOR
At a minute to midnight, Robert woke to a strange humming. Robert's bones vibrated in response to the low-pitched noise from the walls. The vibrations pulsed in his chest and buzzed in his ears. As the humming grew louder and louder, Robert twisted in bed, attempting to silence it with his pillow. The grandfather clock chimed a moment later. Robert counted the chimes one by one.
Thirteen! How could that be right? The house was silent; the humming ceased. A sharp click echoed through the room, and Robert glanced towards the door, heart racing. Robert's anxiety spiked, imagining the house exploding in a fiery burst of oak dust, ash, and shattered glass—the news headlines: Archer Family Killed by Exploding Grandfather Clock on Staten Island.
Robert threw his legs over the side of the bed. It was time to investigate. The clock's sound was unsettling, like shaking or banging against the staircase. Turning right at the stairs, Robert glanced at the clock. Several pictures hung on either side of Alice, Miles, and Robert. The photographs hung on the wall at odd angles, their frames crooked and tilted. It was as if a sudden, powerful vibration had shaken them loose from their positions. The sight of the crooked frames was jarring, and Robert's stomach somersaulted as he neared the clock.
At a towering height of six feet, the antique clock stood motionless. Glowing symbols appeared on the wooden frame, etched deep into its surface. They looked to be ancient runes. Robert ran his fingertips over one of them, feeling a warmth tingling through his hands as if the symbols vibrated with power.
The cabinet beneath the clock's face had sprung open, its contents shrouded in darkness. The opened door revealed a dark cupboard that appeared larger inside than it should be. Robert leaned forward to get a better look, and a breeze brushed against his skin, sending chills down his spine. Where the icy breeze came from, he didn't know.
Robert placed one leg inside the door, and after a few moments of deliberation, he climbed in. Once inside, the door slammed shut with a bang. Robert's heart raced as the walls closed on him, triggering his childhood claustrophobia. The darkness was suffocating, and he struggled to catch his breath. Like the time his cousin locked him inside their grandmother's empty glory box as a cruel joke, panic washed over him.
After a few moments, Robert opened his eyes, disoriented and confused. He reached for the doorknob. Hands clammy and cold, he twisted it, attempting to escape the suffocating darkness. The door clicked and sprang open, flooding the room with blue light. An unfamiliar world greeted him as he sprang out of the grandfather clock. Above him, the night sky, a vast black canvas, illuminated by a Tri-Star. A flash of blue lightning brought day. A scorching sun replaced the glowing moon. Robert collapsed, his head spinning.
Minutes later, Robert's eyes opened to a valley bathed in the sun's warm glow. The sun's rays caressed his skin like flames from a cozy fireplace. This valley contrasted with the icy winter blanketing Staten Island with snow and rain. Fluffy white clouds floated in the sky like soft pillows next to the crimson sun. Countryside and rolling hills surrounded him, and deep green forests were in the distance. Turning around, a red door stood behind him.
Robert paced around the door, scanning every inch, hoping to find something familiar. The open door revealed a breathtaking view of the lush green countryside and a quaint cottage in the distance. He strolled toward the cottage, knocked on the door, and waited. As the door swung open, a short woman appeared in the doorway. She wore blue-rimmed glasses and a light summer dress with a blue flower print. She held a ferret dressed in blue. The ferret leaped from her grasp and jumped into a nearby shrub. The woman blinked, her eyes adjusting to the change in the light.
With great effort, he tore his eyes away from the shrub and redirected his attention to the woman. "My name's Robert Archer, and I'm lost."
"Sounds like a story shared over tea." With a welcoming smile, she motioned for Robert to enter. "My name's Agnes Wood."
The picturesque cottage exuded an enchanting old-world charm with its rustic furnishings and antique decor. The floorboards beneath Robert's feet creaked in welcome as he entered the lounge. Robert's eyes landed on the expansive window seat, capable of harboring a concealed child. His gaze moved from the window seat to the unreachable cupboards in the kitchen, a great distance from the low sink and bench tops.
"So, they've got you?" Agnes whirled towards Robert, fixating her gaze on him as if she demanded an immediate answer.
"Huh?" Counting the meters between the cupboards and the sink, Robert stopped. "What has me?"
"The Paradoxian Portholes are terrible things, and if you don't believe me, just ask old Prudence Perry-Winkle." Anges paused, facing Robert. "You don't know what I'm talking about, do you? You are very peculiar."
"What do you mean by peculiar?" Robert grunted and kicked the coffee table as Agnes turned away.
"Agnes! Agnes! The boy just kicked me!" A colossal mouth materialized out of nowhere, taking up the entire table's surface. The creature had massive lips that dwarfed its already oversized teeth. Startled, Robert leaped backward, his heart racing as he made a beeline for the kitchen.
"Did he?"
"I didn't mean to." Robert's heart pounded in his chest, and his palms became sweaty. As the wooden table scraped across the floor, it left behind a trail of scratches and a lingering sense of unease.
"LIAR! You kicked me on purpose! He did, Agnes. The boy kicked me on purpose!"
"I'm sure he didn't mean to Woodward." Agnes tore her gaze away from Woodward and shot a disapproving look at Robert. "Did you, Robert?"
"N-No. I didn't." Woodward's heavy footsteps reverberated through the room, growing louder as he approached Robert. As Woodward limped closer, each step he took caused the floorboards to groan, intensifying the atmosphere. Amid the nightmare, Robert stood frozen, unable to move. "It was an accident. And besides, how could I have known the table was alive?"
Woodward paused, his gaze shifting downward to examine his wounded leg. "It was such a hard kick. I'm going to have such a hideous bruise."
