CHAPTER TEN
CROSSING OVER
copyright 2007 Brian Clopper
His father had not returned from his visit with Blord’s parents. His mother seemed distressed that Graham was in more trouble. Dinner was eaten in silence, except for Flenn, who had enough conversation in her to make up for the rest of the family’s tight lips.
“We have to make an invention, Mom. We’re studying great inventors, both magical and physical. I’m gonna do a physical invention. I remember what Dad said about messing with spells and stuff,” said Flenn, letting her voice die down momentarily.
Switching topics, Flenn continued on with her monologue, “I think I want to rearrange my room. Will you help me, Mom? I want to put my bed next to the window. We’re studying astronomy next and I want to get a head start. Can we do it tonight?”
Her mother nodded as she slowly chewed her food.
Graham spoke before his sister had a chance to start up her one-sided conversation, “May I be excused? I want to visit Grandfather.”
His mother’s features softened. “Oh, don’t do that. Grandfather asked for no visitors tonight. He’s not feeling well at all. It’s a miracle he’s held on this long.”
Graham nodded. He placed his dishes in the sink and retreated to his bedroom. He pushed his stool next to the window and retrieved a book from his bookcase. He flipped to page 67 and halfheartedly read THE GIANT’S FOOTFALL. It was a fictional tale featuring The Flying Mummy as he faced off against an evil giant determined to steal the beauty of Aphrodite. Graham had already read it twice, but was reading it a third time out of boredom. The next volume in The Flying Mummy series wasn’t due out for another month. Graham was eager to spend his hard-earned allowance on that volume, titled DRAGON TALES FROM TWO CITIES.
Graham found he wasn’t too worried about his father. If he was lucky, his father would arrive home with no one to shout and snarl at. If things worked out right, Graham would be long gone, following his grandfather into a new world where bullies maybe didn’t loom so large.
Around page 116, his mother knocked and entered his room. She announced it was bedtime and extinguished his will o’ wisp lantern. Graham slipped into his bed and kissed his mother sincerely on the forehead. It would be the last time he would see her.
“Good night, Mom.”
“G’night, Dear.” She hastened to the door, stopping to straighten the crooked picture frame that held his Flying Mummy limited edition poster.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
Graham inhaled slowly. He exhaled quickly, rushing his words out at nearly the same speed. “I love you.”
She winked. “I love you too, Graham.”
The moment the door shut, Graham unearthed himself from his covers and reached under his bed. Earlier in the evening, he had packed his backpack full of all the necessities he could think of. He unzipped the pack and double-checked his inventory. Four bags of blumbleberry cookies, a scarf, a will o’ wisp mini-lantern, his favorite Flying Mummy comic book and a pocketknife stared back at him, looking surprisingly inadequate for the earthly mission he was about to undertake.
Graham was about to go through his closet one more time to comb for more essentials to pack when he heard his grandfather’s door creak open. The young gargoyle slung the backpack over his shoulder and scrambled to the window. After what seemed like an eternity, he spied his mother opening the front door. Hunched over in what appeared to be terrible pain, Graham witnessed his grandfather walking for the first time in weeks. The steps he took reminded Graham of a baby’s first uncertain steps, clumsy and untested. Graham’s mom helped her father-in-law down the walkway, kissing and hugging him with finality at the path’s end.
He watched as his grandfather, painstakingly slow, stumbled into the woods leading to the portal. He waited for his mother to retreat to the house and turn off the porch light, before he squeezed out his window and raced after the aged gargoyle.
He caught up to him in less than a minute. Graham was careful to hang back and not use his mini-lantern to light his path for fear his slow-moving grandfather would look back and spot him.
His grandfather never once looked back. He shambled through the woods, pausing once and a while at a tree or rock outcropping to catch his breath.
Finally, after what felt like hours to Graham, they arrived at the portal clearing. It was exactly like Graham remembered from his class field trip when he was a Level Four student. The portal was a large, flat stone that was smooth as glass, except for etched spell symbols decorating its edges. An eight-foot red obelisk rose up next to the portal rock. At its top, a simple pottery jar sat in its rightful perch.
Graham watched as his grandfather crept onto the portal rock. He kneeled facing the red monument, bowing his head in respect. Graham watched all this with his grandfather’s back to him. Burning tears streamed down the young gargoyle’s face. He wondered if his grandfather wept as well. The clearing was quiet for a long time, as even the chirping of the noisy lava beetles was nonexistent.
The silence was broken by his grandfather, who had started singing the spell that would summon the gate. Graham tried to listen carefully, hoping in vain he could use the same spell to get home. About midway through, he gave up. He would not be able to remember all of what spilled forth from his grandfather’s lips. Instead, he closed his eyes, listening to the tender richness of his grandfather’s voice. He thought of the time they had spent together over the past two nights and of all the heartfelt stories his grandfather had shared with him almost nightly. Except for tonight, thought Graham.
Graham opened his eyes as the last of the spell faded into the night air. His grandfather still kneeled on the portal rock. Nothing had happened. Maybe he couldn’t remember the spell. Maybe the old gargoyle’s tongue had become rock hard, preventing him from completing the spell. Graham was about to burst out of his hiding place and call out to his grandfather when he noticed something.
His eyes darted to the red monument holding the plain jar. The jar was slowly rising into the air. It hovered above the obelisk momentarily before it started floating towards the portal rock. Just as it reached the point above his grandfather, the jar began to tilt.
Graham watched as fine grains of rich earth spilled downward. Well, not exactly straight down. The earth flowed around his grandfather, building a gently sloping arch overtop him. Graham was amazed at how much earth was contained in the small jar. He reasoned a cornucopia spell must have been used to enchant the jar to hold so much dirt.
Once the arch had filled in completely, it began to glow a vibrant orange. Graham inched out of his hiding place. If his grandfather turned around, he would spot Graham. The young gargoyle stepped closer to the portal rock. He had no idea how long the gate would stay open and didn’t want to be left behind.
The space inside the arch containing his grandfather filled with rolling bolts of green and yellow energy. The hardening gargoyle labored to raise his arms. Graham dared to take a step onto the portal rock. Suddenly, the whole clearing was engulfed in a blinding light issuing from the arch. This was it. The gate was here. Graham leaped forward as his grandfather disappeared into thin air. Graham felt the energy pushing him from all around. He closed his eyes and made a wish.
From the shadows of a nearby yula tree, the lone figure that had been trailing Graham stepped up onto the portal rock. The gate was still active. The figure cursed the air around him as he stepped into the gate, his left hand clutching desperately to a rolled piece of parchment.
Three visitors had entered the clearing. None were left behind when the arch collapsed in on itself and the dirt rose purposefully into the air, funneling into the pottery jar as it had done for decades after each act of crossing over. The pottery jar returned to its spot in the red obelisk, making a satisfying click as it slid back into place. Slowly, all around the clearing, a droning chorus of lava beetles took up with song.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Monday, August 13, 2007
Chapter Nine
CHAPTER NINE
YOUTHFUL CONSPIRING
copyright 2007 Brian Clopper
Thursday started with happy thoughts and inched towards despair as the day wore on. Graham’s wondrous night visit with The Flying Mummy and his grandfather had helped him to push all the stress of his young life to the back of his mind. Graham’s love for his grandfather had grown by leaps and bounds after hearing how he had come to the aid of The Flying Mummy, saving the pharaoh from a very distasteful honeymoon that would most assuredly have lead to the undead’s death. Medusa was apparently destined to always be a bridesmaid and never a bride.
School was survivable. Graham hung out with Ot as usual. They spent the majority of the day avoiding Blord, who was making it painfully known to all within earshot that he was The Flying Mummy’s #1 buddy. For Graham, the bully’s dinner with the mummified hero paled in comparison to the story the mummy had weaved for him. He had never felt closer to his grandfather. This made him happy, but it also filled his heart with sorrow. He related the night’s events to Ot over lunch.
“He’s crossing over tonight. I wish he could tell me, but I understand why he doesn’t.” Graham took a slurp of his gryphon’s milk and nibbled on the blumbleberry jam and nut sandwich his mother had prepared for him.
“Why doesn’t he want to tell you? I don’t get it.” Ot chowed down on his mukka root yogurt, allowing a satisfying dribble to seep out the corner of his mouth before licking his face clean with his huge tongue.
“He wants my last memory of him to be last night. I understand why. It was the best night, but I have to say good-bye to him. I owe him that much.”
“How are you gonna do that?”
Graham leaned in closer to his friend and spoke in hushed tones, “I know he’ll leave after he thinks I’m in bed. I can see the front door from my window. When he sneaks out, I will too and follow him. I already know where the portal to Earth is.”
Ot listened intently, spellbound by his friend’s soulful determination.
“He’ll summon the gate energies and step through, and I’ll dash in behind him.”
“Oh my.” Ot’s eyes grew to the size of ping-pong balls.
“When he climbs the church, I’ll help him make sure he gets in the right place. He’s really stony now, and I’m not sure he can manage it by himself.”
“How will you get back? Won’t you be trapped on Earth?”
Graham reached into his lunch bag and pulled out a rolled piece of parchment. He removed the wa-wa vine and unfurled the paper. In elegant calligraphy, four verses of a rhyming spell rested in a flowery border depicting different gargoyles making the journey back to Earth. “I stole this from my dad’s study. It’s a portal spell. I can use it to create a portal back to Cascade. Pretty cool, huh?”
At that moment, Blord stepped up to their table and snatched the parchment out of Graham’s hands. “You are so in trouble, Graham. I was just strolling by, minding my own business, when I heard you mention you stole this from your dad!!” Blord examined the paper. “Oh, dear, it says here this is council property. I imagine my dad should return this to your dad right away.”
Graham reached for the parchment. “Stay out of my business.”
“A thief in the village, even if he’s the council chairman’s son, is everybody’s business. I’m taking this home to my dad tonight.” Blord cackled hideously.
Graham went numb.
Blord walked off, his final taunting comment laced with venom. “I told you I’d get you back, Graham. This is only the beginning!”
Graham swallowed hard. How could his life get any worse?
“You have to get that back, Graham!” Ot said.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m still going. Who cares if I don’t have a way to get back. It’s not like there’s anything but trouble for me here.” Graham shot his friend a cold, defeated look and walked out of the lunch room.
Ot whimpered, “You have me. Buddies stick together.”
Graham didn’t hear this. He had already left.
YOUTHFUL CONSPIRING
copyright 2007 Brian Clopper
Thursday started with happy thoughts and inched towards despair as the day wore on. Graham’s wondrous night visit with The Flying Mummy and his grandfather had helped him to push all the stress of his young life to the back of his mind. Graham’s love for his grandfather had grown by leaps and bounds after hearing how he had come to the aid of The Flying Mummy, saving the pharaoh from a very distasteful honeymoon that would most assuredly have lead to the undead’s death. Medusa was apparently destined to always be a bridesmaid and never a bride.
School was survivable. Graham hung out with Ot as usual. They spent the majority of the day avoiding Blord, who was making it painfully known to all within earshot that he was The Flying Mummy’s #1 buddy. For Graham, the bully’s dinner with the mummified hero paled in comparison to the story the mummy had weaved for him. He had never felt closer to his grandfather. This made him happy, but it also filled his heart with sorrow. He related the night’s events to Ot over lunch.
“He’s crossing over tonight. I wish he could tell me, but I understand why he doesn’t.” Graham took a slurp of his gryphon’s milk and nibbled on the blumbleberry jam and nut sandwich his mother had prepared for him.
“Why doesn’t he want to tell you? I don’t get it.” Ot chowed down on his mukka root yogurt, allowing a satisfying dribble to seep out the corner of his mouth before licking his face clean with his huge tongue.
“He wants my last memory of him to be last night. I understand why. It was the best night, but I have to say good-bye to him. I owe him that much.”
“How are you gonna do that?”
Graham leaned in closer to his friend and spoke in hushed tones, “I know he’ll leave after he thinks I’m in bed. I can see the front door from my window. When he sneaks out, I will too and follow him. I already know where the portal to Earth is.”
Ot listened intently, spellbound by his friend’s soulful determination.
“He’ll summon the gate energies and step through, and I’ll dash in behind him.”
“Oh my.” Ot’s eyes grew to the size of ping-pong balls.
“When he climbs the church, I’ll help him make sure he gets in the right place. He’s really stony now, and I’m not sure he can manage it by himself.”
“How will you get back? Won’t you be trapped on Earth?”
Graham reached into his lunch bag and pulled out a rolled piece of parchment. He removed the wa-wa vine and unfurled the paper. In elegant calligraphy, four verses of a rhyming spell rested in a flowery border depicting different gargoyles making the journey back to Earth. “I stole this from my dad’s study. It’s a portal spell. I can use it to create a portal back to Cascade. Pretty cool, huh?”
At that moment, Blord stepped up to their table and snatched the parchment out of Graham’s hands. “You are so in trouble, Graham. I was just strolling by, minding my own business, when I heard you mention you stole this from your dad!!” Blord examined the paper. “Oh, dear, it says here this is council property. I imagine my dad should return this to your dad right away.”
Graham reached for the parchment. “Stay out of my business.”
“A thief in the village, even if he’s the council chairman’s son, is everybody’s business. I’m taking this home to my dad tonight.” Blord cackled hideously.
Graham went numb.
Blord walked off, his final taunting comment laced with venom. “I told you I’d get you back, Graham. This is only the beginning!”
Graham swallowed hard. How could his life get any worse?
“You have to get that back, Graham!” Ot said.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m still going. Who cares if I don’t have a way to get back. It’s not like there’s anything but trouble for me here.” Graham shot his friend a cold, defeated look and walked out of the lunch room.
Ot whimpered, “You have me. Buddies stick together.”
Graham didn’t hear this. He had already left.
Friday, August 10, 2007
Chapter Eight
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE FLYING MUMMY
copyright 2007 Brian Clopper
Wednesday, the day of the celebration, arrived with much dread for Graham. School was closed as all in the village prepared for the afternoon parade and evening banquet— all except for one very sad and lonely gargoyle.
Graham sat in his room pouring over his scrapbook of newspaper clippings. Pasted on each page were articles, interviews and photos depicting the adventures and deeds of The Eternity Guard. They had been lovingly cut out of Cascade’s leading newspaper, The Oracle. The Eternity Guard were the official protectors of the realm and highly admired by all citizens of Cascade, especially the young.
Graham thumbed through the pages with a mixture of wonder and frustration. He glanced over the clipping detailing The Eternity Guard’s clash with The Night Clans. He chuckled as he reread the profile on Mang the Lava Man, leader of the Guard. Articles on The Night of the Scorpions, The Poseidon Adventure and The Goblin Gauntlet were all highlighted in yellow, indicating an adventure where his hero, The Flying Mummy, had single-handedly outwitted the villains in question.
Now, his opportunity to meet the pharaoh had been taken away. To make matters worse, Flenn had told him she had overheard their dad telling their mother that he had invited Blord to take Graham’s seat next to the guest of honor that night. After all, his father had said, it was the least he could do to set things right with the boy’s parents. Leave it to his father to look for any way to keep everyone happy, everyone except his son.
Graham shut the scrapbook and returned it to its place of honor under his bed. He had been confined to his room all day while his mother, father and sister had been dashing about the village preparing their wardrobe and confectionary contribution to the banquet with great delight.
He wasn’t even allowed to visit with his grandfather. This had not set well with the old gargoyle, who had raised his voice at Graham’s father over the matter. The pepper accusation did not make sense. Grandfather had scoffed at the notion that his grandson would do such a thing and dismissed Blord’s family as mean-spirited and diabolical. Graham, despite being stuck in his room, had heard their heated conversation and wondered just what “diabolical” meant. The word had certainly upset Graham’s father enough to end their discussion and slam the door on his own elderly father.
Graham hopped on his bed. His schoolwork was done, and he had no desire to read. A nap might take his mind off his punishment and make the day and night go faster. Besides, he was tired. Yesterday evening, after being grounded, he had stayed up half the night, exercising his wings the way his grandfather had taught him. His wings were sore now, and Graham doubted he had done much to help him in his first flight on Friday.
Graham wrestled briefly with his blanket before drifting off to sleep.
**********
He awakened in darkness. Graham scrambled out of bed and peeked out his window. Judging from the height of the two full moons in the night sky, he had apparently slept well past dusk. In the village below, the Spindwiff Tavern was still lit. That was the only building large enough to house everyone under its roof and was the choice spot for the banquet. Cries of excitement and joy wafted up through the cool night air from the tavern. Evidently, the banquet was well under way.
Graham dropped his head in sadness as he returned to his bed. He was about to pull the covers over his head when a slip of paper stuck to his door caught his eye. He rolled slowly out of bed and ambled over to read it.
Honey,
Your father, Flenn and I are at the banquet. Grandfather is in his room. He had his dinner already, but would like to read you a bedtime story. It took some arguing, but your father said it would be okay. I left some blumbleberry cookies on the oven. Fetch yourself some gryphon’s milk and visit your grandfather at 10:00 sharp. Don’t ask me why the time is important. Your grandfather was rather mysterious about that. Anyway, take care and we’ll see you in the morning.
Love,
Mom
P.S. Flenn is going to try to get The Flying Mummy’s autograph for you.
Graham smiled. He glanced up at the clock mounted above his desk. The time read 10:05. He was late. Graham folded the note in half and slid it under his pillow. Then, he dashed to the kitchen, grabbed a handful of cookies and two cup of gryphon’s milk, and made his way back to his grandfather’s room.
He was about to open the already ajar door, when he heard hushed voices. Graham peeked inside. He could see his grandfather sitting up in bed, looking even more tired and stiffer than usual. He was talking to someone else who was standing over by the window. Graham could not see who it was.
“...don’t think I can. I know it’ll disappoint the boy, but I’m gonna have to cross over tomorrow night.” His grandfather’s eyes were limp with sadness as he looked at the unseen visitor.
A deep, gravelly voice that had almost an ageless quality replied, “You should tell him. He has a right to know.”
“No, he has enough to worry about with his first flight. I would rather tonight be my last time together with him. You will make it so memorable for him.” Graham’s grandfather choked out the last sentence.
“I suspect you are the one in his heart, not me.”
Graham’s eyes started welling up. His grandfather was going to cross over without telling him. How dare he? Graham was about to barge in and tell the aged gargoyle there was no way he would let him cross over, no way he need ever leave, but was frozen in place by what his grandfather said next.
“It is the honorable thing to do. You must see that.”
“I do, but sometimes the honorable way is not the right way when it comes to a youngster’s heart.” The hidden visitor stepped into view. Distinguished bandages covered him from head to toe. An elegant headpiece complete with his trademark serpent crown adorned his head.
Graham stumbled backwards, shocked at the visitor’s identity. The Flying Mummy was in his home! The Flying Mummy was friends with his grandfather?! Before Graham had time to ponder this striking twist of events, The Flying Mummy was reaching for the door.
“He’s late. How about I go retrieve the boy?”
Graham had just enough time to see his grandfather nod before the door opened. He backpedaled towards the kitchen. Perhaps he could pretend he was returning from the kitchen. It would not be proper if his grandfather found out his grandson was a snoop. Graham clung tightly to the blumbleberry cookies and milk as he attempted to look his most convincing.
The Flying Mummy stepped into the hall and peered in Graham’s direction.
The young gargoyle stammered genuinely, “It’s you!”
The Flying Mummy chuckled, his laugh velvety and smooth. “I should hope so. The last time I checked, I was me. You haven’t heard of any plots to replace me with an evil twin, have you, Graham?”
The boy smiled and nervously extended his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”
The pharaoh bowed gracefully, before extending his hand. “The honor is all mine,
grandson to Gortle the Great!”
Graham raised his eyebrow. “Who’s that?”
He heard faint laughter erupt from his grandfather’s room. “That would be me, Graham.
Although, I think great is stretching it a bit. Come in.”
“You know The Flying Mummy, Grandfather?’
“Our paths crossed once.”
“You had an adventure with him?” Graham beamed with pride.
“Heh-heh, more like a misadventure. Come sit up here with me. We have a special guest storyteller tonight. I hope that’s okay with you?”
Graham nodded, spilling some of the gryphon’s milk on the bedspread.
The Flying Mummy entered the room and held up his arm majestically. “Tonight’s story is 100% true. It is a tale of a man most heroic. It is an epic where I am a secondary character, a sidekick, to The Great Gortle!”
Graham smiled and burrowed closer to his grandfather.
The mummy continued, “I call this dangerous tale of valor, I Was The Groom of Medusa. Thank goodness my best man had enough sense to go blind at just the right moment.”
Graham’s grandfather’s eyes twinkled lovingly and knowingly at his grandson.
Amidst squeals of delight and joy, The Flying Mummy spun his elaborate and heroic yarn.
THE FLYING MUMMY
copyright 2007 Brian Clopper
Wednesday, the day of the celebration, arrived with much dread for Graham. School was closed as all in the village prepared for the afternoon parade and evening banquet— all except for one very sad and lonely gargoyle.
Graham sat in his room pouring over his scrapbook of newspaper clippings. Pasted on each page were articles, interviews and photos depicting the adventures and deeds of The Eternity Guard. They had been lovingly cut out of Cascade’s leading newspaper, The Oracle. The Eternity Guard were the official protectors of the realm and highly admired by all citizens of Cascade, especially the young.
Graham thumbed through the pages with a mixture of wonder and frustration. He glanced over the clipping detailing The Eternity Guard’s clash with The Night Clans. He chuckled as he reread the profile on Mang the Lava Man, leader of the Guard. Articles on The Night of the Scorpions, The Poseidon Adventure and The Goblin Gauntlet were all highlighted in yellow, indicating an adventure where his hero, The Flying Mummy, had single-handedly outwitted the villains in question.
Now, his opportunity to meet the pharaoh had been taken away. To make matters worse, Flenn had told him she had overheard their dad telling their mother that he had invited Blord to take Graham’s seat next to the guest of honor that night. After all, his father had said, it was the least he could do to set things right with the boy’s parents. Leave it to his father to look for any way to keep everyone happy, everyone except his son.
Graham shut the scrapbook and returned it to its place of honor under his bed. He had been confined to his room all day while his mother, father and sister had been dashing about the village preparing their wardrobe and confectionary contribution to the banquet with great delight.
He wasn’t even allowed to visit with his grandfather. This had not set well with the old gargoyle, who had raised his voice at Graham’s father over the matter. The pepper accusation did not make sense. Grandfather had scoffed at the notion that his grandson would do such a thing and dismissed Blord’s family as mean-spirited and diabolical. Graham, despite being stuck in his room, had heard their heated conversation and wondered just what “diabolical” meant. The word had certainly upset Graham’s father enough to end their discussion and slam the door on his own elderly father.
Graham hopped on his bed. His schoolwork was done, and he had no desire to read. A nap might take his mind off his punishment and make the day and night go faster. Besides, he was tired. Yesterday evening, after being grounded, he had stayed up half the night, exercising his wings the way his grandfather had taught him. His wings were sore now, and Graham doubted he had done much to help him in his first flight on Friday.
Graham wrestled briefly with his blanket before drifting off to sleep.
**********
He awakened in darkness. Graham scrambled out of bed and peeked out his window. Judging from the height of the two full moons in the night sky, he had apparently slept well past dusk. In the village below, the Spindwiff Tavern was still lit. That was the only building large enough to house everyone under its roof and was the choice spot for the banquet. Cries of excitement and joy wafted up through the cool night air from the tavern. Evidently, the banquet was well under way.
Graham dropped his head in sadness as he returned to his bed. He was about to pull the covers over his head when a slip of paper stuck to his door caught his eye. He rolled slowly out of bed and ambled over to read it.
Honey,
Your father, Flenn and I are at the banquet. Grandfather is in his room. He had his dinner already, but would like to read you a bedtime story. It took some arguing, but your father said it would be okay. I left some blumbleberry cookies on the oven. Fetch yourself some gryphon’s milk and visit your grandfather at 10:00 sharp. Don’t ask me why the time is important. Your grandfather was rather mysterious about that. Anyway, take care and we’ll see you in the morning.
Love,
Mom
P.S. Flenn is going to try to get The Flying Mummy’s autograph for you.
Graham smiled. He glanced up at the clock mounted above his desk. The time read 10:05. He was late. Graham folded the note in half and slid it under his pillow. Then, he dashed to the kitchen, grabbed a handful of cookies and two cup of gryphon’s milk, and made his way back to his grandfather’s room.
He was about to open the already ajar door, when he heard hushed voices. Graham peeked inside. He could see his grandfather sitting up in bed, looking even more tired and stiffer than usual. He was talking to someone else who was standing over by the window. Graham could not see who it was.
“...don’t think I can. I know it’ll disappoint the boy, but I’m gonna have to cross over tomorrow night.” His grandfather’s eyes were limp with sadness as he looked at the unseen visitor.
A deep, gravelly voice that had almost an ageless quality replied, “You should tell him. He has a right to know.”
“No, he has enough to worry about with his first flight. I would rather tonight be my last time together with him. You will make it so memorable for him.” Graham’s grandfather choked out the last sentence.
“I suspect you are the one in his heart, not me.”
Graham’s eyes started welling up. His grandfather was going to cross over without telling him. How dare he? Graham was about to barge in and tell the aged gargoyle there was no way he would let him cross over, no way he need ever leave, but was frozen in place by what his grandfather said next.
“It is the honorable thing to do. You must see that.”
“I do, but sometimes the honorable way is not the right way when it comes to a youngster’s heart.” The hidden visitor stepped into view. Distinguished bandages covered him from head to toe. An elegant headpiece complete with his trademark serpent crown adorned his head.
Graham stumbled backwards, shocked at the visitor’s identity. The Flying Mummy was in his home! The Flying Mummy was friends with his grandfather?! Before Graham had time to ponder this striking twist of events, The Flying Mummy was reaching for the door.
“He’s late. How about I go retrieve the boy?”
Graham had just enough time to see his grandfather nod before the door opened. He backpedaled towards the kitchen. Perhaps he could pretend he was returning from the kitchen. It would not be proper if his grandfather found out his grandson was a snoop. Graham clung tightly to the blumbleberry cookies and milk as he attempted to look his most convincing.
The Flying Mummy stepped into the hall and peered in Graham’s direction.
The young gargoyle stammered genuinely, “It’s you!”
The Flying Mummy chuckled, his laugh velvety and smooth. “I should hope so. The last time I checked, I was me. You haven’t heard of any plots to replace me with an evil twin, have you, Graham?”
The boy smiled and nervously extended his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”
The pharaoh bowed gracefully, before extending his hand. “The honor is all mine,
grandson to Gortle the Great!”
Graham raised his eyebrow. “Who’s that?”
He heard faint laughter erupt from his grandfather’s room. “That would be me, Graham.
Although, I think great is stretching it a bit. Come in.”
“You know The Flying Mummy, Grandfather?’
“Our paths crossed once.”
“You had an adventure with him?” Graham beamed with pride.
“Heh-heh, more like a misadventure. Come sit up here with me. We have a special guest storyteller tonight. I hope that’s okay with you?”
Graham nodded, spilling some of the gryphon’s milk on the bedspread.
The Flying Mummy entered the room and held up his arm majestically. “Tonight’s story is 100% true. It is a tale of a man most heroic. It is an epic where I am a secondary character, a sidekick, to The Great Gortle!”
Graham smiled and burrowed closer to his grandfather.
The mummy continued, “I call this dangerous tale of valor, I Was The Groom of Medusa. Thank goodness my best man had enough sense to go blind at just the right moment.”
Graham’s grandfather’s eyes twinkled lovingly and knowingly at his grandson.
Amidst squeals of delight and joy, The Flying Mummy spun his elaborate and heroic yarn.
Monday, August 6, 2007
Chapter Seven
CHAPTER SEVEN
GROUNDED
copyright 2007 Brian Clopper
His father’s voice was thunderous. “Graham Wilson Groodle, get in here right now!”
Graham stopped playing with his Flying Mummy action figure and bolted to the door. His father had evidently come home and was not too happy. Graham realized he had forgotten to remove his grandfather’s empty soup bowl from the bedroom. That must be why his father was upset.
He entered the living room, his Flying Mummy toy dangling at his side. “I’m sorry, Father. I forgot to take his dishes to the—-” Graham stopped. His father was not holding the empty soup bowl, but rather a large towel covered in black grit.
“Do I look like I’m holding a bowl in my hands?” His father was the only one standing. His mother was seated on the couch, while Flenn was nowhere to be seen, probably pressed against her bedroom door, dying to catch a hint of what her older brother had done this time. Graham took this as a bad sign. The crime was serious if he couldn’t be punished in front of his sister.
“No.” Graham, upon closer inspection, realized the towel was covered in pepper.
“I ran into Blord’s father tonight. Actually, that’s not true. He stormed into our council meeting, waving this all about.” He thrust the towel at his son.
“Uh,…” Graham was uncertain what he had done wrong.
“Blord never went to school today, and you’re to blame.”
His mom spoke faintly, “Now Dear, don’t rush to conclusions. We haven’t heard Graham’s side.”
His father continued, choosing to ignore his wife’s comment. “Do you have any idea of the embarrassment you’ve caused me?”
“Dad, I don’t know what’s wrong. I didn’t do anything!”
“I hardly call ambushing a classmate on his way to school nothing. What were you thinking, dumping pepper onto Blord from a tree? He’s bigger than you. If anything, he’s supposed to be the one bullying you around.”
Graham clenched his tiny fists. “That’s not true!! Blord’s lying! He covered himself in pepper!”
“Why on earth would he do that?”
Graham hesitated. He didn’t want to tell his father what had happened on Parsons’ Plateau. His grandfather may find it okay to visit it, but his father, the chairman of the council, would not. He was a man who upheld tradition, no exceptions. Graham didn’t know how to explain his innocence without further angering his father. He wrinkled his face awkwardly, knowing a lie now would only make matters worse. “He wouldn’t. I did it. He was teasing Ot and…”
“You defended a troll over your own kind?” His father didn’t dislike Graham’s friendship with Ot, but he didn’t encourage it either.
“Dad…?”
“Regardless of whether or not Blord was teasing your friend, your actions were wrong. You are grounded for the parade and banquet tomorrow. If you can’t do the right thing, I see no reason why you should meet a hero who does.”
Graham felt his heart crumble. He let the doll fall out of his hands. The First Flight celebration was more important to him than his actual first flight. The council had invited The Eternity Guard’s coolest member, The Flying Mummy, to attend, and the pharaoh had accepted. His father had even arranged for Graham to sit next to the mummy at the banquet after the parade. Meeting his idol meant the world to the young gargoyle.
“Dad, you can’t!”
“You will also write a letter of apology to Blord and his father.” His father paused, uncertain what to say next. He finally blurted out, “Now, go to your room. And no dessert tonight.”
Graham raced to his room, shut the door and wrapped himself in his covers. Tears flowed from his tightly shut eyes.
In the living room, his mother picked up his fallen toy and gingerly placed it on the kitchen table.
His father tossed the soiled towel in the trash and went about warming up his dinner.
GROUNDED
copyright 2007 Brian Clopper
His father’s voice was thunderous. “Graham Wilson Groodle, get in here right now!”
Graham stopped playing with his Flying Mummy action figure and bolted to the door. His father had evidently come home and was not too happy. Graham realized he had forgotten to remove his grandfather’s empty soup bowl from the bedroom. That must be why his father was upset.
He entered the living room, his Flying Mummy toy dangling at his side. “I’m sorry, Father. I forgot to take his dishes to the—-” Graham stopped. His father was not holding the empty soup bowl, but rather a large towel covered in black grit.
“Do I look like I’m holding a bowl in my hands?” His father was the only one standing. His mother was seated on the couch, while Flenn was nowhere to be seen, probably pressed against her bedroom door, dying to catch a hint of what her older brother had done this time. Graham took this as a bad sign. The crime was serious if he couldn’t be punished in front of his sister.
“No.” Graham, upon closer inspection, realized the towel was covered in pepper.
“I ran into Blord’s father tonight. Actually, that’s not true. He stormed into our council meeting, waving this all about.” He thrust the towel at his son.
“Uh,…” Graham was uncertain what he had done wrong.
“Blord never went to school today, and you’re to blame.”
His mom spoke faintly, “Now Dear, don’t rush to conclusions. We haven’t heard Graham’s side.”
His father continued, choosing to ignore his wife’s comment. “Do you have any idea of the embarrassment you’ve caused me?”
“Dad, I don’t know what’s wrong. I didn’t do anything!”
“I hardly call ambushing a classmate on his way to school nothing. What were you thinking, dumping pepper onto Blord from a tree? He’s bigger than you. If anything, he’s supposed to be the one bullying you around.”
Graham clenched his tiny fists. “That’s not true!! Blord’s lying! He covered himself in pepper!”
“Why on earth would he do that?”
Graham hesitated. He didn’t want to tell his father what had happened on Parsons’ Plateau. His grandfather may find it okay to visit it, but his father, the chairman of the council, would not. He was a man who upheld tradition, no exceptions. Graham didn’t know how to explain his innocence without further angering his father. He wrinkled his face awkwardly, knowing a lie now would only make matters worse. “He wouldn’t. I did it. He was teasing Ot and…”
“You defended a troll over your own kind?” His father didn’t dislike Graham’s friendship with Ot, but he didn’t encourage it either.
“Dad…?”
“Regardless of whether or not Blord was teasing your friend, your actions were wrong. You are grounded for the parade and banquet tomorrow. If you can’t do the right thing, I see no reason why you should meet a hero who does.”
Graham felt his heart crumble. He let the doll fall out of his hands. The First Flight celebration was more important to him than his actual first flight. The council had invited The Eternity Guard’s coolest member, The Flying Mummy, to attend, and the pharaoh had accepted. His father had even arranged for Graham to sit next to the mummy at the banquet after the parade. Meeting his idol meant the world to the young gargoyle.
“Dad, you can’t!”
“You will also write a letter of apology to Blord and his father.” His father paused, uncertain what to say next. He finally blurted out, “Now, go to your room. And no dessert tonight.”
Graham raced to his room, shut the door and wrapped himself in his covers. Tears flowed from his tightly shut eyes.
In the living room, his mother picked up his fallen toy and gingerly placed it on the kitchen table.
His father tossed the soiled towel in the trash and went about warming up his dinner.
Friday, August 3, 2007
Chapter Six
CHAPTER SIX
WARM HEART PLUS
WARMER WISDOM
copyright 2007 Brian Clopper
Graham made sure he listened carefully to the rest of his sister’s volcano presentation that night at dinner. Thanks to Flenn, Graham had outwitted his enemy. The gargoyle was happy. What was even nicer, the bully, after their encounter at Parsons’ Plateau, had stayed home, allowing Graham a school day free of teasing and torment. As soon as his sister finished her presentation, Graham stood up and clapped proudly for her.
“That was excellent, Flenn! You are a volcano expert!” said Graham.
“Graham’s right. You know quite a bit about volcanoes.” Graham’s mom looked surprised at her son’s enthusiasm.
“Thanks. Miss Brennan wants me to share it with the Level One students on Friday. I can’t wait.” Flenn neatly slapped a stretchy wa-wa vine around her note cards and returned them gently, like she was transporting a baby to her backpack.
“What’s for dessert, Mom?” Graham asked as he finished his second helping of mukka root stew. He hoped she had made blumbleberry muffins. They were the young gargoyle’s favorite. His grandfather said blumbleberries helped with wing growth, and Graham needed all the help he could get.
“Now, now, you know we don’t have dessert until your father gets home. I didn’t think he had a council meeting tonight, but I might be wrong. He should be home soon. Besides, someone under this roof hasn’t been fed yet, has he?” His mom motioned with her head to the hall containing their bedrooms.
“I’ll do it!” Graham rushed to the kitchen to fetch a bowl before his sister could swallow her next mouthful and volunteer. Even though it was his job, Graham still was quite possessive of it. He valued the time he got to spend with his favorite family member. He ladled a sizeable helping of stew into the bowl and darted down the hall.
His mom shouted back to him as he entered the second bedroom on the left, “He already has a drink, but he might need a refill.”
“Okay, Mom. Thanks.” Graham closed the door behind him and approached the immense bed before him.
Ragged breathing came from the bed’s sole occupant.
“Grandfather, I brought you dinner.” Graham climbed up on the stool next to the bed, careful not to spill the hot stew on himself or the elderly gargoyle stretched out before him. “How are you feeling?”
The aged gargoyle turned his head and slowly adjusted himself so he was sitting up in bed. Graham noticed how stiffly his grandfather moved. The bed creaked its protest under the weight of the hardening gargoyle. Deeply warm eyes stared at Graham from hollow sockets framed with neatly arranged wrinkles. The gargoyle’s most distinguishing feature was not the white horns that jutted downward from his jaw creating the appearance of a wise beard. The gentle smile that spread across grandfather’s face at the sight of his grandson lit up the room. “I’m doing just fine.”
“You look good,” Graham said, smiling weakly. He hated lying. His grandfather did not look well. It was obvious that he had hardened more than the day before. His skin looked as coarse as sandpaper, and slight cracks at his joints were beginning to paint an unsettling picture. “You should eat.”
“Thank you.” His grandfather slowly pulled the bowl of stew from Graham and placed it on his stomach, balancing it with one hand while fumbling with the spoon with his other. Graham noticed that the fingers looked the most like stone. As the weathered hand closed around the spoon, Graham thought he saw dust escape from the cracks and crannies forming at the joints.
“Your day was good?” asked his grandfather.
“It was nice. Ot and I got top marks on the geometry quiz today.”
“That’s good to hear. Anything else happen of note?”
“Well,…” Graham wanted to tell his grandfather about what happened with Blord and the volcano. He wanted to share how he and Ot had outwitted the bully. He wanted to, but didn’t. “Did you know Malcolm Parsons?”
His grandfather slid the spoon out of his mouth and deposited it back in the bowl. He returned the bowl to his lap and licked his lips, a task that seemed more a chore than a pleasure. “Once. Your grandmother and I met him once.”
“Oh.” Graham had hoped he would share more details about their encounter.
His grandfather sighed. “We bought rhinecorn from him. He grew the sweetest crops of them all. He was kind, thoughtful and honorable. Why do you bring him up?”
Graham fidgeted. Here he was, about to sprinkle another lie into the conversation. “Um, well, I went over to Parsons’ Plateau this morning to see the, uh, morning sky. After hearing so much about volcanoes from Flenn, I also wanted to get a better look at Mount Prometheus.” Almost as an afterthought, he said, “His statue is pretty neat.”
His grandfather said nothing.
Graham looked down at the quilt covering the bed, uncertain what to say next.
“You want to know how I feel about what he did?” asked his grandfather.
“Um, yes.” Graham shifted in his seat.
His grandfather blinked once, then began, “Crossing over is a very personal journey. Climbing to the top of a church and declaring yourself its protector is deeply honorable.” He paused to catch his breath. “Many will tell you Malcolm Parsons knew nothing of honor, that his decision to stay in Cascade was selfish.”
His grandfather’s words seemed to linger in the air. He was a very wise man. Graham leaned forward and inhaled slightly, hoping wisdom was contagious.
“Malcolm was honoring his new home. In a way, he is the most noble protector of us all. From his final resting spot atop the plateau, he greets each day with hope and wards off the everyday evil that attempts to enter our village.”
“Was it wrong for me to go there?”
His grandfather chuckled. “No. It shows you have courage, that you seek your own answers.” His grandfather resumed eating his stew. “Any more questions?”
The young gargoyle nodded. “Are you scared about crossing over? Is that why you haven’t gone yet?”
His grandfather smiled. “Graham, I’m not afraid. I’m waiting till the last possible moment in the hopes that I will see my only grandson do his family proud and take to the air. I want to watch you touch the clouds for the first time on Friday. That’s why I’m waiting to cross over.”
Graham hopped on the bed and gave his grandfather a tender hug. The aged gargoyle smelled of flint and sandstone. “What if I can’t fly? What if my wings are too small? I don’t think I have enough courage. All the other kids keep telling me they have the courage to fly and I don’t.” A tear escaped from Graham and splashed onto his grandfather’s chest. For a comforting instant, Graham imagined the tear having magical powers and turning the stony body into its younger, less hardened former self.
His grandfather pulled him closer and whispered, “Courage lies not in the saying, but in the doing. Anyone can talk about having courage, but you never know you have it until the moment it is required of you.”
Graham sniffled, attempting to hold back his worry and frustration.
“Unless, of course, they have a very wise grandfather who can spot courage in a fine, young gargoyle from a mile away.”
Graham giggled. “Grandfather?”
“Yes?”
“Do you mind if I stay in your bed for a little while longer?”
“Not at all.” The elderly gargoyle hugged his grandson. For Graham, the world seemed a little more understandable and a little less complex and terrifying.
WARM HEART PLUS
WARMER WISDOM
copyright 2007 Brian Clopper
Graham made sure he listened carefully to the rest of his sister’s volcano presentation that night at dinner. Thanks to Flenn, Graham had outwitted his enemy. The gargoyle was happy. What was even nicer, the bully, after their encounter at Parsons’ Plateau, had stayed home, allowing Graham a school day free of teasing and torment. As soon as his sister finished her presentation, Graham stood up and clapped proudly for her.
“That was excellent, Flenn! You are a volcano expert!” said Graham.
“Graham’s right. You know quite a bit about volcanoes.” Graham’s mom looked surprised at her son’s enthusiasm.
“Thanks. Miss Brennan wants me to share it with the Level One students on Friday. I can’t wait.” Flenn neatly slapped a stretchy wa-wa vine around her note cards and returned them gently, like she was transporting a baby to her backpack.
“What’s for dessert, Mom?” Graham asked as he finished his second helping of mukka root stew. He hoped she had made blumbleberry muffins. They were the young gargoyle’s favorite. His grandfather said blumbleberries helped with wing growth, and Graham needed all the help he could get.
“Now, now, you know we don’t have dessert until your father gets home. I didn’t think he had a council meeting tonight, but I might be wrong. He should be home soon. Besides, someone under this roof hasn’t been fed yet, has he?” His mom motioned with her head to the hall containing their bedrooms.
“I’ll do it!” Graham rushed to the kitchen to fetch a bowl before his sister could swallow her next mouthful and volunteer. Even though it was his job, Graham still was quite possessive of it. He valued the time he got to spend with his favorite family member. He ladled a sizeable helping of stew into the bowl and darted down the hall.
His mom shouted back to him as he entered the second bedroom on the left, “He already has a drink, but he might need a refill.”
“Okay, Mom. Thanks.” Graham closed the door behind him and approached the immense bed before him.
Ragged breathing came from the bed’s sole occupant.
“Grandfather, I brought you dinner.” Graham climbed up on the stool next to the bed, careful not to spill the hot stew on himself or the elderly gargoyle stretched out before him. “How are you feeling?”
The aged gargoyle turned his head and slowly adjusted himself so he was sitting up in bed. Graham noticed how stiffly his grandfather moved. The bed creaked its protest under the weight of the hardening gargoyle. Deeply warm eyes stared at Graham from hollow sockets framed with neatly arranged wrinkles. The gargoyle’s most distinguishing feature was not the white horns that jutted downward from his jaw creating the appearance of a wise beard. The gentle smile that spread across grandfather’s face at the sight of his grandson lit up the room. “I’m doing just fine.”
“You look good,” Graham said, smiling weakly. He hated lying. His grandfather did not look well. It was obvious that he had hardened more than the day before. His skin looked as coarse as sandpaper, and slight cracks at his joints were beginning to paint an unsettling picture. “You should eat.”
“Thank you.” His grandfather slowly pulled the bowl of stew from Graham and placed it on his stomach, balancing it with one hand while fumbling with the spoon with his other. Graham noticed that the fingers looked the most like stone. As the weathered hand closed around the spoon, Graham thought he saw dust escape from the cracks and crannies forming at the joints.
“Your day was good?” asked his grandfather.
“It was nice. Ot and I got top marks on the geometry quiz today.”
“That’s good to hear. Anything else happen of note?”
“Well,…” Graham wanted to tell his grandfather about what happened with Blord and the volcano. He wanted to share how he and Ot had outwitted the bully. He wanted to, but didn’t. “Did you know Malcolm Parsons?”
His grandfather slid the spoon out of his mouth and deposited it back in the bowl. He returned the bowl to his lap and licked his lips, a task that seemed more a chore than a pleasure. “Once. Your grandmother and I met him once.”
“Oh.” Graham had hoped he would share more details about their encounter.
His grandfather sighed. “We bought rhinecorn from him. He grew the sweetest crops of them all. He was kind, thoughtful and honorable. Why do you bring him up?”
Graham fidgeted. Here he was, about to sprinkle another lie into the conversation. “Um, well, I went over to Parsons’ Plateau this morning to see the, uh, morning sky. After hearing so much about volcanoes from Flenn, I also wanted to get a better look at Mount Prometheus.” Almost as an afterthought, he said, “His statue is pretty neat.”
His grandfather said nothing.
Graham looked down at the quilt covering the bed, uncertain what to say next.
“You want to know how I feel about what he did?” asked his grandfather.
“Um, yes.” Graham shifted in his seat.
His grandfather blinked once, then began, “Crossing over is a very personal journey. Climbing to the top of a church and declaring yourself its protector is deeply honorable.” He paused to catch his breath. “Many will tell you Malcolm Parsons knew nothing of honor, that his decision to stay in Cascade was selfish.”
His grandfather’s words seemed to linger in the air. He was a very wise man. Graham leaned forward and inhaled slightly, hoping wisdom was contagious.
“Malcolm was honoring his new home. In a way, he is the most noble protector of us all. From his final resting spot atop the plateau, he greets each day with hope and wards off the everyday evil that attempts to enter our village.”
“Was it wrong for me to go there?”
His grandfather chuckled. “No. It shows you have courage, that you seek your own answers.” His grandfather resumed eating his stew. “Any more questions?”
The young gargoyle nodded. “Are you scared about crossing over? Is that why you haven’t gone yet?”
His grandfather smiled. “Graham, I’m not afraid. I’m waiting till the last possible moment in the hopes that I will see my only grandson do his family proud and take to the air. I want to watch you touch the clouds for the first time on Friday. That’s why I’m waiting to cross over.”
Graham hopped on the bed and gave his grandfather a tender hug. The aged gargoyle smelled of flint and sandstone. “What if I can’t fly? What if my wings are too small? I don’t think I have enough courage. All the other kids keep telling me they have the courage to fly and I don’t.” A tear escaped from Graham and splashed onto his grandfather’s chest. For a comforting instant, Graham imagined the tear having magical powers and turning the stony body into its younger, less hardened former self.
His grandfather pulled him closer and whispered, “Courage lies not in the saying, but in the doing. Anyone can talk about having courage, but you never know you have it until the moment it is required of you.”
Graham sniffled, attempting to hold back his worry and frustration.
“Unless, of course, they have a very wise grandfather who can spot courage in a fine, young gargoyle from a mile away.”
Graham giggled. “Grandfather?”
“Yes?”
“Do you mind if I stay in your bed for a little while longer?”
“Not at all.” The elderly gargoyle hugged his grandson. For Graham, the world seemed a little more understandable and a little less complex and terrifying.
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