Quest for Faith: Chapter Four

Hello everyone! Here is Chapter Four of the story - the plot is picking up now, so I'm hoping you'll begin to feel the suspense!

Chapter Four: The Disappearance

The next morning, well before the sun had even peeked out over the horizon, both brothers woke suddenly. Eyes wide, they slowly turned to face each other. Had they heard something? Did they both imagine it? Alastair thought he had heard a voice – not Mr. Lumley’s though. It was a deep voice –deep, but soft. James had thought it was an animal, large and angry growling outside the door.

Neither moved. Neither even breathed. They lay as still as they could, listening. After a moment, their waiting was rewarded. Another noise came. It was a scratching noise, like the sound of a dull pencil writing furiously on a piece of paper. The boys again looked at each other, this time with confused looks. “Do you think it’s Mr. Lumley?” whispered James, as softly as he could.

“No,” replied Alastair, “that was not his voice and why would he be writing at this hour in the morning? Let’s go investigate.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” inquired James, feeling a trifle afraid.

“Of course James,” replied Alastair, though he was a little afraid himself, “I’m sure it was nothing, and besides I’ll protect you.”

The scratching noise had stopped and more silence came – a thick and deafening silence that did nothing to alleviate their fear. Very slowly, so as not to shake the creaky old bed, the boys stood up – first Alastair, then James. They shuffled to the door, hand in hand, trying without success to avoid the floor boards which squeaked the loudest. Gently turning the handle, Alastair opened the door and peaked out. The room was empty. Neither Mr. Lumley nor anyone else could be seen. “Wait here. I’ll go see what’s up,” Alastair whispered to his brother, who stared back with a worried look on his face and a quivering bottom lip.

“No,” he said at last, “I’m going too.” He shuffled up close to his older brother – a hero in the young boy’s eyes and the two walked out into the living room.

After a thorough search of the flat and the shop downstairs producing no result, the boys made their way into the kitchen to make some toast to satisfy their growling tummies and think about what could have happened to Mr. Lumley. “You would think he would have left a note!” remarked Alastair.

“Perhaps he did leave one and we didn’t see it. Where do you think he would put a note?”

They checked on top of the fireplace, on the coffee table, and on the kettle, but couldn’t find anything of significance.

When Lumley still had not returned an hour later, the boys got very worried. “Should we telephone the police?” asked James, as he strode toward the telephone on the wall above the desk. Reaching for the telephone, he froze suddenly. A small piece of paper had caught his eye from beneath the desk. “Al! Look what I’ve found!” he cried, clapping his hands in excitement.

“A note!” cried Alastair, “Oh, a note!”

“Read it out loud, Al, read it!”

The note was written very quickly and the shaky hand writing was difficult to decipher. It read:

Dear Alastair and James,

Please do not worry about me. I’m quite alright, but I seem to have gotten into a bit of trouble and I need you two to help me. You remember the story I told you last night – well it was not fiction. It was real. And I was there. You may find this difficult to believe, but I need you to trust me. There is a book – an ancient book with strange and mystical power. Whenever it is opened, the reader is physically transported into the story – into the middle ages. You are taken to the village of Chinley in the year 1132 A.D. Here is what I need you to do. Ogden would do anything to get his hands on the book and its power. Not only can the one who holds it be transported forward and back in time, but by reciting a certain text from the book, the reader can be carried to other various places in their own time period. Ogden must have found a way to get here without the book – there are other books with this power, to a lesser degree – but if he held the power of this book, he could very easily launch a surprise attack on the King’s castle. You boys must get to the castle and warn the King. I fear Ogden will be able to discover the whereabouts of the book. I can hear him talking in the shop downstairs, and if he finds me, he may take me back with him to try to get me to tell him where I’ve hidden the book.

What I am about to tell you, you must not tell anyone else. Once you have read this, you must rip up this note. I have hidden the book downstairs, in the bookshop. First, find the non-fiction section. The book is top shelf under the ‘M’s’. The shelf has a false back that you can remove to find the book standing flat against the wall. You will be transported the moment you open it, so make sure to get into your most comfortable and warm clothes first. Bring with you a jacket each. Also, you must each bring a bag filled with food, water pouches, extra socks, a blanket, and a torch if you can find one. Also, in order to find the castle bring a compass. From where you arrive - in a cave deep within a forest –walk due west. I will leave whatever signs I can for you, but I do not know where Ogden will take me. Be careful, boys, and beware of anyone, man or woman wearing a ring in the shape of a dragons head, for all followers of Ogden wear...

The not trailed off mid-sentence. The brothers stared at each other in fearful wonder. The boys did not have to discuss their course of action. One look and they both ran, as fast as their legs would carry them to the non-fiction section. James found the letter ‘M’ while Alastair pulled a chair up to the shelf. By standing on the chair, on the very tips of his toes, Alastair could reach the shelf. Quickly, he moved the books away and struggled to lug the heavy piece of wood that made up the false back of the shelf down onto the floor. At first he couldn’t see anything on the shelf, for the sun had still not risen and the room was still filled with the dark of night. “Get me a torch from the cupboard in our bedside table, quickly!” ordered Alastair to his brother, who dashed up the stairs.

When he returned with the torch, he handed it promptly to his older brother who shone it deep into the dark shelf. In the back corner, standing on end was a large book. He grabbed the ancient book and placed it gently on the counter behind him. The book was brown and unimpressive but for a symbol in gold print on the center. The gold leaf was in the shape of a circle with a cross through it. The intersection of the cross was at the center of the circle and the phrase “Ge-leafa” was inscribed across the horizontal of the cross. “I wonder what that means,” pondered James, “It certainly is a curious symbol.”

“It looks like Old English script,” commented Alastair.

The sun was now barely visible behind the hills and the silhouettes of many sheep could be seen grazing peacefully in distant meadows. Not wanting any of the townsfolk to catch a glimpse of the book, James pulled the dusty curtains together.

Quest for Faith: Chapter Three

Hey everybody! Chapter 3 of my story is VERY overdue I am afraid, and I think I have decided to post once weekly instead of attempting a new chapter everyday. I hope you enjoy this installment!

Chapter 3: The Story is Told

After dinner that evening, with the sign on the door of the shop turned to ‘closed’, and the lights put out, the three made their way up the creaky stairs to the flat. It was a small apartment: a stuffy living room, kitchen, bathroom, and one bedroom which Mr. Lumley had given up for the boys (he now stayed on the lumpy couch with did not help his tender hip). As they entered the flat, the boys requested a story before bed. “Oh please, Mr. Lumley! Tell us a story. You tell the best stories,” said James.

“Yes, Lumley. No one can tell a story like you can! Please tell us one,” joined Alastair.

Now, it was already very late, but Mr. Lumley was somewhat of a pushover, so he agreed. He fixed a lovely roaring fire in the fireplace, while Alastair made a pot of tea and James put on his pyjamas. Congregating together in front of the fire, tea in hand, wrapped in layers of blankets, Mr. Lumley began his story. He did not read it, for he knew it well enough to recite it – even with an ever-fading memory.

The boys listened with wide eyes to the tale the man wove with his words. He told of an ancient battle that took place right outside the very town in which they now lived. He told of a good King who ruled justly over every person in his kingdom. He spoke of the King’s knights – valiant men who protected the people – and of the one who strayed from the King’s orders to seek power and glory for himself. He was called Ogden; he had formerly been the King’s most trusted and courageous knight. Yet there was evil in his heart which gave way to pride and maliciousness that consumed him. His acts of treason and revenge against both the King and his son, the Prince resulted in his exile, along with his small band of followers. In exile, he continued to plot and scheme against the King and Prince, and his group of followers became a powerful force.

And there the old man finished. “But Mr. Lumley,” inquired James, “What happened to Ogden? Did he come back and take over the kingdom?”

“That, m’boy,” answered Lumley with a smile, “I dunna know, for it hasna’ happened yet.”

With that, he scooted the puzzled boys off to bed. As they lay side by side in the rickety bed each was consumed with his own thoughts. What had Mr. Lumley meant by saying that it hadn’t happened yet? Couldn’t he just make up the ending? Both boys drifted off to sleep, creating their own endings in their imaginations.

Quest for Faith: Chapter Two

I'm very sorry that I'm a bit behind on this post. I hope the suspense hasn't been too much for you to endure! Enjoy the next chapter of my story, and look for the next chapter to be posted tomorrow.

Chapter Two:

In the Bookshop

As the boys sat, engrossed in their own textual worlds, the voice of Mr. Lumley – gentle as it was – startled them. “D’ye need a wee bit o’ sustenance, m’boys?” he asked with a good natured chuckle. In his hands, he carried a tray of ginger cookies and two large glasses of milk. The elderly man looked down at the boys with the loving eyes of a friend and a mentor.

Thanking him, the boys took the tray and downed the snack before Mr. Lumley had even returned to his post at the front desk. As it was on most rainy midsummer days, scarcely one person came into the shop. On some days, a friend or neighbour might stop in to say hello to Mr. Lumley or bring him some fresh bread they had baked. But generally during the school holidays, the boys had the run of the place.

The small town was gaining many more children as the war progressed and worried parents from large cities sought a safe environment for their children, away from the horrors of war. Most of the other children stayed outside, playing football or cricket in the fields on the outskirts of the small town. The boys rarely saw the other children, though sometimes they would see the group at the local church on Sunday mornings when they went with Mr. Lumley, but Alastair and James preferred to keep to themselves.

Alastair wiped off his milk moustache with the sleeve of his blue knitted sweater – which was actually a few sizes too large for him – and tried to get the very last drop of milk from the bottom of the glass. Quite contented, he leaned back and let out a long sigh. He gazed out the front window, still lost in story. The rain was beating down on the thick-paned window. The high street was empty and the afternoon wore on. Beyond the quaint storefronts, misty hills rose on the horizon, haunting in the translucent curtain of distant rain.

Alastair turned to look at his brother. James’ hair was much lighter than his own dark hair, and was much curlier as well. It shone, even in the dull afternoon light. Alastair knew from his brother’s face that he was enraptured in a good story. In fact, Alastair had read the book a few weeks ago, and had recommended it to James.

Quest for Faith: Chapter One

Over the next few weeks, it is my plan to post a story that I wrote my senior year of highschool in my Writer's Craft class. I will post it in installments as it is a bit lengthy, posting a chapter a day or so. Any feedback would be appreciated by leaving a comment on the post. The title of the book is "Quest for Faith." I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it! (Actually, I would have enjoyed writing it a bit more if I hadn't waited until about a week before it was due to begin it!)

Chapter One: Among the Books

An adventure was about to begin. The familiar excitement stirred in Alastair’s heart as it always did when he hauled a heavy book from the dusty shelf. It was not a particularly attractive book – the cover was brown and weathered and it had a musty smell - but the boy knew enough about books to understand the beauty within. He carried it to his favourite spot: a rug in the corner between two bookshelves which ran the full height of the wall and which created the perfect place for reading.

His younger brother James was already sat in the gap and was engrossed in a book of his own. Alastair squeezed in beside him; it was just big enough for two. The uncommonly amicable brothers had spent many an afternoon in the second-hand bookshop, being read to by their father and mother when they were younger and reading for themselves as they grew. Now, as Alastair was twelve and James seven, the two enjoyed many silent hours together. They did not only read in the bookshop. On the few warm, dry days during the English summertime, they would hike together through the hills which surrounded their little village of Chinley. Books in hand, they would explore the rolling countryside. Upon finding a suitable spot, they would share a small lunch and take out their books.

Wherever they were, both boys could think of nothing better than a full stomach, a warm cup of tea and a good story. James preferred stories about talking animals and other mythical creatures. To him, the wonder of a forest filled with magic made real forests magical. As he and his brother explored the fields, forests and hills of the Peak District where they lived, James would imagine the trees were talking to him. Every rustle of the wind through the branches or snap of a twig above them was a strange, forgotten language which he could understand only in his imagination.

Alastair however, preferred ancient stories of kings and knights and dragons. He loved the story of King Arthur’s round table and Excalibur. He wished courageous knights would still rescue fair maidens and go bravely into battle with armour and shield to defend and a sword to attack. It seemed so much more meaningful than the guns and bombs of modern warfare.

Just a few months ago, in January of 1941, their father had himself gone to war. He was a kind man, but distant from his sons. Since his wife’s death of cancer only a few years previous, he had grown more and more detached from the boys, spending much of his time at work or in his study, working on this and that. It had been their mother who first introduced them to the magical world of literature. She read to them constantly, and taught them to read sounds, then words and sentences long before their peers at Chinley Junior School. Through the death of their mother, and the recent conscription of their father, the boys became the best of friends. The companionship fought off all the loneliness felt strongly by both. Yet they were not left to fend for themselves – an elderly gentleman called Mr. Lumley owned the small bookshop as well as the flat above it and had been a good friend of the boys and their parents for as long as they had lived in the close-knit community of Chinley. He had jumped at the chance to look after the boys who had already spent so much time with him in his shop.

Mr. Lumley had a Scottish accent which had been altered by his years spent in England. For a good 30 years he had owned the small bookshop and had been living quietly in his small flat. In truth, the man was beginning to feel much lonelier in his old age. He could no longer travel because of a bad hip and was confined to his shop most of the day, the running of which was also getting to be a challenge on account of his health.

He had known Alastair and James since birth and had watched them grow up. On numerous occasions during the family’s trying time surrounding their mother’s death, he had looked after and comforted the brothers. He and the boys – Alastair in particular – had formed a bond during this painful period, and the three had been inseparable ever since. Alastair and James loved the man’s stories. He would tell them stories of a land long ago – of bravery, of courage and of betrayal. After his father’s departure, Alastair and Mr. Lumley became especially close, spending many an evening (after James had fallen asleep to a story) discussing things and laughing together. However unlikely the pair seemed, the spritely young boy and the man whose strength was waning, had formed an inexplicable attachment.

Stay tuned for Chapter Two: In the Bookshop!