“Brandon! Brandon, can you weed the flower bed in the front yard?” Mom called from the kitchen. I let out a groan. “Aw, Mom, please don’t make me! I had to go with Dad to the store in that stupid backfiring car. Can’t I rest a little?” “But it looks sloppy, and Mrs. Kelly is coming over for coffee and a chat this evening,” my mom pleaded. “Can’t Chris?” I asked in my most faked tired voice. “Brandon Newton, you are the most self-centered boy in the world! You know just as much as I do that your older brother is doing college homework. Now you get out there, and do what I tell you!” “All right!” I cried out angrily, bouncing out of the soft leather couch. In a fuming rage, I slammed doors and yelled at my sister. To make matters worse, when I grabbed the hoe I scraped the side of the car. This only added to my anger because I knew my dad was not going to let me off easy. My anger began to lose its steam as I pulled weeds and stacked them into piles. After a few minutes, I felt better. I surveyed my work with pride. Since I had learned to walk, there had always been something inviting about warm, soft earth. Even though I was nearly thirteen, I dropped the hoe and sprawled myself onto the ground being careful not to damage my mom’s tulips. I let out a sigh and closed my eyes. Gosh, I thought. Wish I’d lived in the old days; then I wouldn’t have to wash cars or weed gardens. Well, at least not wash cars or have to ride in ones that backfire. I grinned sleepily. That ride was such a joke! I started to laugh. Since I had learned to walk, there had always been something inviting about warm, soft earth “Hey! What are you laughing at? Get up. Mother wants us to weed the potato patch with Sarah.” “Eh . . . what?” I mumbled in disbelief, staggering to my feet. Potato patch? Where in the name of sense did a potato patch spring up in the middle of town? Then I looked around in bewilderment. Where was I? What had happened? Everything seemed vaguely familiar, only where were the cars, sidewalks, and manicured lawns? Instead, there was a large farmhouse and a barn with two draft horses tied out in front. My older brother Chris stood in front of me. “Come on. Mother wants us to weed the potato patch.” “All right, Chris,” I mumbled, picking up what I supposed to be my baseball cap. Instead, I stared in disbelief at a floppy felt hat like the type you would see in an old Hollywood western. “Come on. Quit gawking and get to work!” Chris growled, pulling me around the barn and shoving me in the direction of a field. “Here, take this and start weeding,” he ordered, handing me a hoe. In a daze, I began to work the hoe and dig weeds out of the moist earth. “Let’s see who can weed the most,” my little sister Sarah suggested. In disbelief I stared at her. Her sturdy little legs stuck out of a faded blue dress, and a white sunbonnet dangled from her neck. It was then that I noticed Chris wore boots that went up to his knees, brown pants, and a coarse cotton shirt. I, also, was dressed like him, only I wore a faded red shirt and suspenders. What’s happened? What’s wrong? I cried to myself. Everything is so different! For the next two hours, I worked my way down the rows of the patch. Soon my hands blistered, and my back ached from bending over. The hot sun beat down, making me think I was the most ill-treated boy in the universe. My hands smarted. I was never so glad to hear the dinner bell in my life. We all trooped into the house. I was startled. The house was changed like everything else. There was no dishwasher or freezer but nothing seemed unusual to the rest of my family. I began to get scared. Was the life with cars, freezers, and dishwashers all a dream? Was this a dream? Would I ever wake up? Would I have to do work like this all my life? My dad’s voice interrupted me. “After dinner, Chris, you and Sarah go and keep weeding the patch. Brandon, you can clean the wagon because tomorrow I’ll be heading into town, and it squeaks something fierce.” For a split second my heart leaped when I heard I wouldn’t have to weed potatoes. It fell, though, when I heard I would have to clean the wagon. I had never done it, but something inside told me it was no easy job. “OK, Father,” I answered. Then I wondered why I had called him Father. I glanced at him, but nothing seemed amiss. Strange, I thought. I had called him Dad forever, and now something possessed me to call him Father. He didn’t even bat an eyelid. After dinner, I set to work cleaning and oiling the wagon. The axle grease smelled awful, but I smeared it on without trying to look disgusted. I cleaned the rust off the springs of the seat and wondered why Dad just didn’t go and buy a car. It would be a lot easier to wash, I thought, forgetting I had once thought it would be fun to live in the old days when there would be no cars to wash. When I finished, I looked with pride at the wagon. “Not bad, son,” Dad remarked, coming up behind me. “Ride over to the Gilberts on Bess and get that new saw blade he promised me.” “Yes, sir,” I answered. As I saddled Bess, I wondered that I knew how to saddle a horse since the only ones I had ever ridden were at the county fair.
Fantasy
Woodpecker’s Way
CHAPTER ONE: HOLIDAY CHARACTER Braden was very lucky in many ways. His only bad luck was that he had a severe allergy to rabbits. Not many have traveled the world by boat and are at a wonderfully academic-filled private school, called Turnlamb Terrace. But this does not take place in school, or neither in town. Braden was also lucky as his grandparents had a 320-acre farm. With spreading hills, plains and valleys, and also numerous vegetable patches, it was a beautiful place to be. It was also natural with beautiful green grass and trees, and the only dirtiness was the cows’ pies. It was Braden’s favorite place in the world: 728 Whatten Road, Admaston County, Ontario—Admaston County was just outside of Renfrew. This place had a lot of activity. The activities ranged from hikes, milking cows, playing on the tractor, setting up a pretend farm business, helping Grandma prepare supper and much, much more. It was holiday, but it was active. At the age of ten, with no map (though he was planning to draw one out one day), Braden could only go on short hikes by himself. Grandma told him even though it was eight PM, and darkening (on August 10) that he could go on one hill where he always exuded happiness. It was very short—you had to turn around sooner or later. This fact allowed him to go on it alone quite frequently. He liked to be alone—he could think about the new school year of grade five—he had just turned ten in July. Braden was hoping desperately that either the snow or the woodpecker-rabbit would stop soon “Oh, yes, that hill’s perfectly fine for you—just stay out of mischief!” Grandma said in her valley voice. For the last part (“stay out of mischief . . .”) she had been joking, as Braden never got into mischief. “Can I have my midnight snack first?” Braden joked back to Grandma, as one, it was not midnight, and two, he never ate between meals. * * * CHAPTER TWO: JUST HIS BODY AND HIS EAGERNESS So he set off. It hadn’t rained too much this year, in 1989. This didn’t affect the grass, as I said it was as green as fresh cabbage, but it did affect the crop—especially the potatoes. Poor Grandpa had been out in the potato fields since two PM, and had only returned once for a drink, and once for a very brief supper. Grandma despised this. He was still off there, watering them, and he was also digging some up for Grandma’s own soup recipe. I can’t describe how convenient that McDonald farm is. Right in the middle (quite a far distance away) are all the crops, and to the sides are the hills. Braden’s hill to hike on was closest to the crop to the right side. Remembering all this himself, Braden began to gather speed. Luckily, he was not carrying anything, but he was tired from helping groom the horses all day. That didn’t stop him. He remembered his harder times, when he had had pneumonia for six months, and at some times had been unable to breathe. He still had a touch of that pneumonia, so was hoarse. He had reached his favorite hill and could see Grandpa in the distance. He did not bother yelling “hard work, is it?” as the poor man was hard of hearing. So he turned the opposite direction as he saw something gleaming in the distance. With this farm lacking technology, it couldn’t be a satellite dish with medallion edges, or anything of that sort. As Braden approached it he could see that it was some sort of rock. Even closer . . . he could tell that it was huge. He could also see many pecks and nibbles imprinted in it. Braden was very excited—and because of this he looked around for any piece of farm equipment he could find—a shovel, a rake—anything. Nothing could be seen. Not thinking twice, he put his hands down into a little crevice and pulled. He pulled on the rock, but something from beneath pulled him down into some kind of hole. * * * CHAPTER THREE: NEVER BEEN THERE; NEVER DONE THAT Braden had expected it all to be pitch-dark—due to soil. However, it was as clear as day—bright, too. It was some different land—just a valley. It was snowing, but woodpeckers could be seen off in the distance. Some of them were carrying wands in their teeth; and some were using them. For example, a tree could have come to life, if the woodpecker that pointed its wand at the tree hadn’t been half asleep. Braden was astonished. He realized that it wasn’t just ordinary snow falling—the snowflakes didn’t have any pattern (they were square) and some were black. So he climbed down to feel the unique snow. As happy as he was when he set off hiking—and he was very impressed with himself to have found the land—he was very sad and hurting now, as when the black snow touched him, it seemed to have burnt a hole in his skin. So his spirits dropped very quickly—as if it were a thermometer showing a drop of temperature from 30 degrees Celsius to minus-30 degrees Celsius. He could not seem to get back up to his homeland—there were too many woodpeckers in the way. The ones that weren’t in the way were pecking away noisily and annoyingly. He tried to stay closer to the white snowflakes, but when one touched him, he realized it was bitter ice. Black “snow” must have been hot embers, and white “snow” must have been ice. To make it even worse, some woodpeckers were swooping at him; and there was one in the lead—it wasn’t a woodpecker. * * * CHAPTER FOUR: NEVER SEEN THAT; NEVER HEARD THAT Or rather . . . wasn’t just a woodpecker. It had two sides for faces—on the right and left side. At
A Window by the Sea
Eve set her bags down with a sigh, and looked around. The room’s white walls stood out in stark contrast to the wood floors, the bed, with its antique-looking iron headboard and footboard and the patchwork quilt, and the bare walnut bookshelf. The only ornament in the room was an old-fashioned fishing net hanging on the wall, with seashells and sea creatures attached to it. Eve looked at her relatively bare surroundings, and remembered her room at home, misty green, Eve’s favorite color, with a huge bed and a canopy Eve blinked away a tear, and began to unpack. Before she could take anything out of her bags, a knock sounded on the door. “Come in,” Eve called. The door opened, and Nan Carter appeared. Nan was Eve’s foster mother for the month, tall, motherly, and gray-haired. Nan had two children, twins, a boy and girl, a bit older than Eve’s age of fourteen. The twins would be sixteen in October, which was four months away. Eve was just one of the many foster children who came to the Carters’ house. “Well,” Nan said, concern showing in only her eyes, “How are you doing?” Eve bit her lip. “I’m great, Ms. Carter. Thank you for the room. It’s beautiful.” “It’s not much,” Nan said, sighing, “I need to paint it a nice color, and maybe get a couple of rugs down. But the view from the window’s lovely, and I’ve got some nice curtains I’m going to put up tomorrow.” Befbre she could take anything out of her bags, a knock sounded on the door Eve nodded. “That’d be nice, Ms. Carter.” “Call me Nan, please. Supper’s going to be on the front porch in about an hour, so I’ll leave you to get unpacked and settled. You get your own bathroom, it’s right down the hall, and we made a little sign with your name on it for you, and there are towels in the linen closet. You can get Jasmyne to give you a tour of the house, if you want. This is pretty much your wing of the house, because my room’s on the other side, and the twins have the upstairs, so don’t worry about disturbing any of us. I hope you’ll be comfortable here during your stay. We’ll talk more during dinner.” “That’s good,” Eve said. She turned back to her packing as Nan closed the door. Pretty soon, it got too dark to work without a light, so Eve switched on the electric light overhead. It didn’t work, so Eve had to make do with two bedside lamps and a floor lamp that lit the room surprisingly well. Pretty soon, Eve had her worldly belongings unpacked, and arranged. She lay on the chaise lounge and looked out the window at the rocks and the ocean. Nan Carter owned a small island with a “cottage,” and from almost every window, you could see the ocean. Eve had a room that looked out over a rocky area, and then ocean until the mainland, with its little twinkling lights. Eve sighed, and settled down. It had been a tumultuous day, what with her coming to her first foster home, and the flurry of getting to Carter Island, and introductions, and so many countless little things. Eve kept busy, not liking to think about her parents, her loving wonderful parents, who had been working at the prison. While Eve had waited at home, there had been an awful fire, and both of her parents had died. Eve had no other relations, and so she ended up in foster care. Before Eve was even settled, there was a rap at the door. It came again, so Eve ran to the other side of the room, and opened the door. Jasmyne and Jake were standing in the doorway, grinning. Eve suppressed a sigh. “Hello,” Jasmyne said, coming in and perching on the bed. “Are you settled yet?” Jasmyne was beautiful, so beautiful that Eve had nearly walked into a pole the first time they met. Jasmyne had long, thick, glossy black curls, with wonderfully fair skin, and not a freckle. Her eyes were big and violet, her mother spoiled her, and she was dressed at the height of the fashions. She had pierced ears, a professional manicure, and Eve would have bet anything that Jasmyne had a huge room, elaborately decorated, and with big windows. Jake was Jasmyne’s perfect counterpart, tall, handsome, with glossy black hair, and gray eyes. Eve was all too aware of how she looked next to these Carters. Eve had long thick blond hair, with startling green eyes, and red lips, but she wasn’t really pretty. Eve had older clothes, her ears weren’t pierced, and manicures were unknown to her. The twins, despite their angelic appearance, were on Eve’s bad side though. She didn’t trust them, not one bit. And they knew it. “So,” Jasmyne said, smirking. “Is this all of your stuff? Cuz it isn’t very much. My room is packed with stuff.” “This is it,” Eve said, retreating into her shell. That was what her parents called the quietness and mumbling that came with Eve being upset, or embarrassed. “May we look around?” Jake asked. “I’d prefer you didn’t.” “Oh, but surely,” Jasmyne said, “you don’t have anything to hide?” Eve didn’t, but she didn’t want these twin devils looking at her parents’ pictures, and at all her other stuff. To change the subject, Eve said, “Why don’t you give me a tour of the house? Nan said you should.” Jasmyne frowned. “I dunno. Why would you want to do a thing like that?” Eve smiled. “I want to know where I’m living for the next month. I’m sure your room is lovely. Can I see it?” Once upstairs, Jasmyne flung open the door. Eve bit her lip to keep from gasping. It was a large room, about the size of a master bedroom. The room was painted a pale yellow, and it
