Stories for young readers
1.The Invisible Man
The stranger came early in February, one wintry day, through a biting wind and a driving snow, the last snowfall of the year, over the down, walking as it seemed from Bramblehurst railway station, and carrying a little black portmanteau in his thickly gloved hand. He was wrapped up from head to foot, and the brim of his soft felt hat hid every inch of his face but the shiny tip of his nose; the snow had piled itself against his shoulders and chest, and added a white crest to the burden he carried. He staggered into the Coarch and Horses, more dead than alive as it seemed, and flung his portmanteau down. "A fire," he cried, "in the name of human charity! A room and a fire!" He stamped and shook the snow from off himself in the bar, and followed Mrs. Hall into her guest parlour to strike his bargain. And with that much introduction, that and a ready acquiescence to terms and a couple of sovereigns flung upon the table, he took up his quarters in the inn.
Mrs. Hall lit the fire and left him there while she went to prepare him a meal with her own hands. A guest to stop at Iping in the wintertime was an unheard-of piece of luck, let alone a guest who was no "haggler," and she was resolved to show herself worthy of her good fortune. As soon as the bacon was well under way, and Millie, her lymphatic aid, had been been brisked up a bit by a few deftly chosen expressions of contempt, she carried the cloth, plates, and glasses into the parlour and began to lay them with the utmost éclat. Although the fire was burning up briskly, she was surprised to see that her visitor still wore his hat and coat, standing with his back to her and staring out of the window at the falling snow in the yard. His gloved hands were clasped behind him, and he seemed to be lost in thought. She noticed that the melted snow that still sprinkled his shoulders dripped upon her carpet. "Can I take your hat and coat, sir," she said, "and give them a good dry in the kitchen?"
"No," he said without turning.
She was not sure she had heard him, and was about to repeat her question.
He turned his head and looked at her over his shoulder. "I prefer to keep them on," he said with emphasis, and she noticed that he wore big blue spectacles with side-lights, and had a bushy side-whisker over his coatcollar that completely hid his cheeks and face.
"Very well, sir," she said. "As you like. In a bit the room will be warmer."
He made no answer, and had turned his face away from her again, and Mrs. Hall, feeling that her conversational advances were ill-timed, laid the rest of the table things in a quick staccato and whisked out of the room. When she returned he was still standing there, like a man of stone, his back hunched, his collar turned up, his dripping hat-brim turned down, hiding his face and ears completely. She put down the eggs and bacon with considerable emphasis, and called rather than said to him, "Your lunch is served, sir."
"Thank you." he said at the same time, and did not stir until she was closing the door. Then he swung round and approached the table with a certain eager quickness.
As she went behind the bar to the kitchen she heard a sound repeated at regular intervals. Chirk, chirk, chirk, it went, the sound of a spoon being rapidly whisked round a basin. "That girl!" she said. "There! I clean forgot it. It's her being so long!" And while she herself finished mixing the mustard, she gave Millie a few verbal stabs for her excessive slowness. She had cooked the ham and eggs, laid the table, and done everything, while Millie (help indeed!) had only succeeded in delaying the mustard. And him a new guest and wanting to stay! Then she filled the mustard pot, and, putting it with a certain stateliness upon a gold and black tea-tray, carried it into the parlour.
She rapped and entered promptly. As she did so her visitor moved quickly, so that she got but a glimpse of a white object disappearing behind the table. It would seem he was picking something from the floor. She rapped down the mustard pot on the table, and then she noticed the overcoat and hat had been taken off and put over a chair in front of the fire, and a pair of wet boots threatened rust to her steel fender. She went to these things resolutely. "I suppose I may have them to dry now," she said in a voice that brooked no denial.
"Leave the hat," said her visitor, in a muffled voice, and turning she saw he had raised his head and was sitting and looking at her.
For a moment she stook gaping at him, too surprised to speak.
He held a white cloth—it was a serviette he had brought with him—over the lower part of his face, so that his mouth and jaws were completely hidden, and that was the reason for his muffled voice. But it was not that which startled Mrs. Hall, It was the fact that all his forehead above his blue glasses was covered by a white bandage, and that another covered his ears, leaving not a scrap of his face exposed excepting only his pink, peaked nose. It was bright, pink, and shiny just as it had been at first. He wore a dark-brown velvet jacket with a high, black, linen-lined collar turned up about his neck. The thick black hair, escaping as it could below and between the cross bandages, projected in curious tails and horns, giving him the strangest appearance conceivable. This muffled and bandaged head was so unlike what she had anticipated, that for a moment she was rigid.
He did not remove the serviette, but remained holding it, as she saw now, with a brown gloved hand, and regarding her with his inscrutable blue glasses. "Leave the hat," he said, speaking very distinctly through the white cloth.
Her nerves began to recover from the shock they had received. She placed the hat on the chair again by the fire. "I didn't know, sir," she began, "that—" and she stopped embarrassed.
"Thank you," he said dryily, glancing from her to the door and then at her again.
"I'll have them nicely dried, sir, at once," she said, and carried his clothes out of the room. She glanced at his white-swathed head and blue goggles again as she was going out the door; but his napkin was still in front of his face. She shivered a little as she closed the door behind her, and her face was eloquent of her surprise and perplexity. "I never," she whispered. "There!" She went quite softly to the kitchen, and was too preoccupied to ask Millie what she was messing about with now, when she got there.
The visitor sat and listened to her retreating feet. He glanced inquiringly at the window before he removed his serviette, and resumed his meal. He took a mouthful, glanced suspiciously at the window, took another mouthful, then rose and, taking the serviette in his hand, walked across the room and pulled the blind down to the top of the white muslin that obscured the lower panes. This left the room in a twilight. This done, he returned with an easier air to the table and his meal.
"The poor soul's had an accident or an operation or something," said Mrs. Hall. "What a turn them bandages did give me, to be sure!"
She put on some more coal, unfolded the clothes-horse, and extended the traveller's coat upon this. "And they goggles! Why, he looked more like a divin'-helmet than a human man!" She hung his muffler on a corner of the horse. "And holding that handkercher over his mouth all the time. Talkin' through it! . . . Perhaps his mouth was hurt too—maybe."
She turned round, as one who suddenly remembers. "Bless my soul alive!" she said, going off at a tangent; "ain't you done them taters yet, Millie?"
When Mrs. Hall went to clear away the stranger's lunch, her idea that his mouth must also have been cut or disfigured in the accident she supposed him to have suffered, was confirmed, for he was smoking a pipe, and all the time that she was in the room he never loosened the silk muffler he had wrapped round the lower part of his face to put the mouthpiece to his lips. Yet it was not forgetfulness, for she saw he glanced at it as it smouldered out. He sat in the corner with his back to the window-blind and spoke now, having eaten and drunk and been comfortably warmed through, with less aggressive brevity than before. The reflection of the fire lent a kind of red animation to his big spectacles they had lacked hitherto.
"I have some luggage," he said, "at Bramblehurst station," and he asked her how he could have it sent. He bowed his bandaged head quite politely in acknowledgement of her explanation. "To-morrow!" he said. "There is no speedier delivery?" and seemed quite disappointed when she answered, "No." Was she quite sure? No man with a trap who would go over?
Mrs. Hall, nothing loath, answered his questions and developed a conversation. "It's a steep road by the down, sir," she said in answer to the question about a trap; and then, snatching at an opening, said, "It was there a carriage was up-settled, a year ago and more, A gentleman killed, besides his coachman. Accidents, sir, happens in a moment, don't they?"
But the visitor was not to be drawn so easily. "They do," he said through his muffler, eyeing her quietly through his impenetrable glasses.
"But they take long enough to get well, sir, Don't they? . . . There was my sister's son, Tom, jest cut his arm with a scythe, Tumbled on it in the 'ayfield, and, bless me! he was three months tied up, sir. you'd hardly believe it. It's regular given me a dread of a scythe, sir."
"I can quite understand that," said the visitor.
"He was afraid, one time, that he'd have to have an op'ration—he was that bad, sir."
The visitor laughed abruptly, a bark of a laugh that he seemed to bite and kill in his mouth. "Was he?" he said.
"He was, sir. And no laughing matter to them as had the doing for him, as I had—my sister being took up with her little ones so much. There was bandages to do, sir, and bandages to undo. So that if I may make so bold as to say it, sir—"
"Will you get me some matches?" said the visitor, quite abruptly. "My pipe is out."
Mrs. Hall was pulled up suddenly. It was certainly rude of him, after telling him all she had done. She gasped at him for a moment, and remembered the two sovereigns. She went for the matches.
"Thanks," he said concisely, as she put them down, and turned his shoulder upon her and stared out of the window again. It was altogether too discouraging. Evidently he was sensitive on the topic of operations and bandages. She did not "make so bold as to say," however, after all. But his snubbing way had irritated her, and Millie had a hot time of it that afternoon.
The visitor remained in the parlour until four o'clock, without giving the ghost of an excuse for an intrusion. For the most part he was quite still during that time; it would seem he sat in the growing darkness smoking in the firelight, perhaps dozing.
Once or twice a curious listener might have heard him at the coals, and for the space of five minutes he was audible pacing the room. He seemed to be talking to himself. Then the armchair creaked as he sat down again.
Mrs. Hall lit the fire and left him there while she went to prepare him a meal with her own hands. A guest to stop at Iping in the wintertime was an unheard-of piece of luck, let alone a guest who was no "haggler," and she was resolved to show herself worthy of her good fortune. As soon as the bacon was well under way, and Millie, her lymphatic aid, had been been brisked up a bit by a few deftly chosen expressions of contempt, she carried the cloth, plates, and glasses into the parlour and began to lay them with the utmost éclat. Although the fire was burning up briskly, she was surprised to see that her visitor still wore his hat and coat, standing with his back to her and staring out of the window at the falling snow in the yard. His gloved hands were clasped behind him, and he seemed to be lost in thought. She noticed that the melted snow that still sprinkled his shoulders dripped upon her carpet. "Can I take your hat and coat, sir," she said, "and give them a good dry in the kitchen?"
"No," he said without turning.
She was not sure she had heard him, and was about to repeat her question.
He turned his head and looked at her over his shoulder. "I prefer to keep them on," he said with emphasis, and she noticed that he wore big blue spectacles with side-lights, and had a bushy side-whisker over his coatcollar that completely hid his cheeks and face.
"Very well, sir," she said. "As you like. In a bit the room will be warmer."
He made no answer, and had turned his face away from her again, and Mrs. Hall, feeling that her conversational advances were ill-timed, laid the rest of the table things in a quick staccato and whisked out of the room. When she returned he was still standing there, like a man of stone, his back hunched, his collar turned up, his dripping hat-brim turned down, hiding his face and ears completely. She put down the eggs and bacon with considerable emphasis, and called rather than said to him, "Your lunch is served, sir."
"Thank you." he said at the same time, and did not stir until she was closing the door. Then he swung round and approached the table with a certain eager quickness.
As she went behind the bar to the kitchen she heard a sound repeated at regular intervals. Chirk, chirk, chirk, it went, the sound of a spoon being rapidly whisked round a basin. "That girl!" she said. "There! I clean forgot it. It's her being so long!" And while she herself finished mixing the mustard, she gave Millie a few verbal stabs for her excessive slowness. She had cooked the ham and eggs, laid the table, and done everything, while Millie (help indeed!) had only succeeded in delaying the mustard. And him a new guest and wanting to stay! Then she filled the mustard pot, and, putting it with a certain stateliness upon a gold and black tea-tray, carried it into the parlour.
She rapped and entered promptly. As she did so her visitor moved quickly, so that she got but a glimpse of a white object disappearing behind the table. It would seem he was picking something from the floor. She rapped down the mustard pot on the table, and then she noticed the overcoat and hat had been taken off and put over a chair in front of the fire, and a pair of wet boots threatened rust to her steel fender. She went to these things resolutely. "I suppose I may have them to dry now," she said in a voice that brooked no denial.
"Leave the hat," said her visitor, in a muffled voice, and turning she saw he had raised his head and was sitting and looking at her.
For a moment she stook gaping at him, too surprised to speak.
He held a white cloth—it was a serviette he had brought with him—over the lower part of his face, so that his mouth and jaws were completely hidden, and that was the reason for his muffled voice. But it was not that which startled Mrs. Hall, It was the fact that all his forehead above his blue glasses was covered by a white bandage, and that another covered his ears, leaving not a scrap of his face exposed excepting only his pink, peaked nose. It was bright, pink, and shiny just as it had been at first. He wore a dark-brown velvet jacket with a high, black, linen-lined collar turned up about his neck. The thick black hair, escaping as it could below and between the cross bandages, projected in curious tails and horns, giving him the strangest appearance conceivable. This muffled and bandaged head was so unlike what she had anticipated, that for a moment she was rigid.
He did not remove the serviette, but remained holding it, as she saw now, with a brown gloved hand, and regarding her with his inscrutable blue glasses. "Leave the hat," he said, speaking very distinctly through the white cloth.
Her nerves began to recover from the shock they had received. She placed the hat on the chair again by the fire. "I didn't know, sir," she began, "that—" and she stopped embarrassed.
"Thank you," he said dryily, glancing from her to the door and then at her again.
"I'll have them nicely dried, sir, at once," she said, and carried his clothes out of the room. She glanced at his white-swathed head and blue goggles again as she was going out the door; but his napkin was still in front of his face. She shivered a little as she closed the door behind her, and her face was eloquent of her surprise and perplexity. "I never," she whispered. "There!" She went quite softly to the kitchen, and was too preoccupied to ask Millie what she was messing about with now, when she got there.
The visitor sat and listened to her retreating feet. He glanced inquiringly at the window before he removed his serviette, and resumed his meal. He took a mouthful, glanced suspiciously at the window, took another mouthful, then rose and, taking the serviette in his hand, walked across the room and pulled the blind down to the top of the white muslin that obscured the lower panes. This left the room in a twilight. This done, he returned with an easier air to the table and his meal.
"The poor soul's had an accident or an operation or something," said Mrs. Hall. "What a turn them bandages did give me, to be sure!"
She put on some more coal, unfolded the clothes-horse, and extended the traveller's coat upon this. "And they goggles! Why, he looked more like a divin'-helmet than a human man!" She hung his muffler on a corner of the horse. "And holding that handkercher over his mouth all the time. Talkin' through it! . . . Perhaps his mouth was hurt too—maybe."
She turned round, as one who suddenly remembers. "Bless my soul alive!" she said, going off at a tangent; "ain't you done them taters yet, Millie?"
When Mrs. Hall went to clear away the stranger's lunch, her idea that his mouth must also have been cut or disfigured in the accident she supposed him to have suffered, was confirmed, for he was smoking a pipe, and all the time that she was in the room he never loosened the silk muffler he had wrapped round the lower part of his face to put the mouthpiece to his lips. Yet it was not forgetfulness, for she saw he glanced at it as it smouldered out. He sat in the corner with his back to the window-blind and spoke now, having eaten and drunk and been comfortably warmed through, with less aggressive brevity than before. The reflection of the fire lent a kind of red animation to his big spectacles they had lacked hitherto.
"I have some luggage," he said, "at Bramblehurst station," and he asked her how he could have it sent. He bowed his bandaged head quite politely in acknowledgement of her explanation. "To-morrow!" he said. "There is no speedier delivery?" and seemed quite disappointed when she answered, "No." Was she quite sure? No man with a trap who would go over?
Mrs. Hall, nothing loath, answered his questions and developed a conversation. "It's a steep road by the down, sir," she said in answer to the question about a trap; and then, snatching at an opening, said, "It was there a carriage was up-settled, a year ago and more, A gentleman killed, besides his coachman. Accidents, sir, happens in a moment, don't they?"
But the visitor was not to be drawn so easily. "They do," he said through his muffler, eyeing her quietly through his impenetrable glasses.
"But they take long enough to get well, sir, Don't they? . . . There was my sister's son, Tom, jest cut his arm with a scythe, Tumbled on it in the 'ayfield, and, bless me! he was three months tied up, sir. you'd hardly believe it. It's regular given me a dread of a scythe, sir."
"I can quite understand that," said the visitor.
"He was afraid, one time, that he'd have to have an op'ration—he was that bad, sir."
The visitor laughed abruptly, a bark of a laugh that he seemed to bite and kill in his mouth. "Was he?" he said.
"He was, sir. And no laughing matter to them as had the doing for him, as I had—my sister being took up with her little ones so much. There was bandages to do, sir, and bandages to undo. So that if I may make so bold as to say it, sir—"
"Will you get me some matches?" said the visitor, quite abruptly. "My pipe is out."
Mrs. Hall was pulled up suddenly. It was certainly rude of him, after telling him all she had done. She gasped at him for a moment, and remembered the two sovereigns. She went for the matches.
"Thanks," he said concisely, as she put them down, and turned his shoulder upon her and stared out of the window again. It was altogether too discouraging. Evidently he was sensitive on the topic of operations and bandages. She did not "make so bold as to say," however, after all. But his snubbing way had irritated her, and Millie had a hot time of it that afternoon.
The visitor remained in the parlour until four o'clock, without giving the ghost of an excuse for an intrusion. For the most part he was quite still during that time; it would seem he sat in the growing darkness smoking in the firelight, perhaps dozing.
Once or twice a curious listener might have heard him at the coals, and for the space of five minutes he was audible pacing the room. He seemed to be talking to himself. Then the armchair creaked as he sat down again.
Romeo and Juliet
The noble families of the Montagues and the Capulets live in the city of Verona. They have had an argument, and are enemies, so all their servants are enemies as well. The young men who work for the Montagues and the Capulets get into gangs and fight each other in the street. Because it is fashionable to carry a sword, sometimes they get badly injured.
Verona is ruled by Prince Escalus. He tells the Montagues and the Capulets that they have to stop fighting or they will be punished, but it is very difficult to control the young men. Montague has only one child, a teenage boy called Romeo. Capulet also has only one child, a beautiful 14-year-old daughter called Juliet. They do not know each other, because Juliet never goes anywhere without her nursemaid. Romeo and his friends go to a masked ball at the home of Juliet's parent. Romeo and Juliet meet at a party and fall in love.
Their love should heal all the problems between their families, but because they think they will get into trouble from their parents they try to hide their love by not talking about it at home. Juliet knows that her parents want her to marry a cousin of the prince. Romeo and Juliet get married in secret. Because of their secret marriage, a lot of things happen which bring about many deaths. The unhappy families of Montague and Capulet are finally brought together in sorrow.
Verona is ruled by Prince Escalus. He tells the Montagues and the Capulets that they have to stop fighting or they will be punished, but it is very difficult to control the young men. Montague has only one child, a teenage boy called Romeo. Capulet also has only one child, a beautiful 14-year-old daughter called Juliet. They do not know each other, because Juliet never goes anywhere without her nursemaid. Romeo and his friends go to a masked ball at the home of Juliet's parent. Romeo and Juliet meet at a party and fall in love.
Their love should heal all the problems between their families, but because they think they will get into trouble from their parents they try to hide their love by not talking about it at home. Juliet knows that her parents want her to marry a cousin of the prince. Romeo and Juliet get married in secret. Because of their secret marriage, a lot of things happen which bring about many deaths. The unhappy families of Montague and Capulet are finally brought together in sorrow.
Change the world
"Nic!" Sharon called up the stairs.
"Yeah?"
"I’m going to the library, and you’re coming. Come on!"
"Alright, alright. Sheesh. What exactly is the point of books when I could simply lay here doing nothing this entire summer like I planned?" I grumbled irritably.
Sharon was right. It was hot, and I was only going to lay on my bed the whole summer with nothing else, which might possibly kill me with boredom, but gosh, books. She couldn't think of any other time killer? Next thing I knew, we were at the library. The huge brick building glared down at me, as if sensing that I didn't want to be there. I scurried up the steps to escape the reproving face of the library, and found myself in a huge, cool, quiet, book filled room. I stared for a full ten seconds until Sharon brought me back to my senses by hitting me in the shoulder with an atlas. "Come on!" She hissed. "There's a section that I think that you might like." She dragged me to the teens section because, after all, I am only fourteen. Sharon is my stepmom. My dad married her after my mom died. But Sharon is alright, I guess. When she’s not trying to make me into one of those good students who always turns in their homework, doesn't talk back to the teacher, reads, all that crap. That's the only reason that she took me to the library. She doesn't want a juvenile delinquent as a stepdaughter, so here we are. I searched the shelves, not looking for anything particular, until one book caught my eye. I had no idea why. It looked boring, the title was boring, everything about it looked like I should pass it up and move on with my life. But I didn't. I pulled it from the shelf, sat on the floor, and skimmed. Until I came to page thirty nine. The page itself was mostly blank, one of those pages before a new chapter. But there was an extra piece of paper in the book. A note. To whom, I didn't know. But as I read the words written in the book, I knew that I would have to find out. I read the note so many times that I had it memorized, and I couldn't have forgotten it if I wanted. I raced to the check out counter faster than appropriate for a library, and shoved the book at the startled librarian. "Who checked this out last!" I shouted. My outburst drew Sharon to where I was almost instantly
"Nicole!" Sharon scolded. "I'm sorry, miss, she can get a little overexcited about things. Nicole, put the book down and go outside. Now. Your father and I will speak to you when we get home. The librarian looked less scared of me now, so I asked her again, hoping for an answer. "Please, I really need to know. There's something in this book, and it's extraordinarily important that I find out who had this book before me!" I was yelling again, and the librarian had shrunk against the far wall. Sharon grabbed my shoulder, and began forcibly dragging me out of the library.
"Wait," the librarian said. "You found it, didn't you?" She asked. I nodded. "Teagan Hilton." And just like that, she turned back to her books, and it was as if our conversation had never happened. But Sharon was to have none of it.
"Get your delinquent behind out of this library NOW!" Sharon shouted, now completely disregarding the fact that libraries are supposed to be quiet. Not completely wanting her to have some sort of stressful breakdown, I walked out, knowing that I was completely dead when I got home.
***********************************************************
"Nicole," my father started. "Nicole, what were you thinking? Scaring a librarian, disturbing many other people who were trying to read, and put a fake note that you wrote into a library book for attention. Shame on you. What would your mother say if she knew about this?" He was going to continue, but I was to have NONE of it.
"Well guess what? Mom isn't here. She isn't coming back! Never, and it's time that you accepted that. I did NOT put any note in that book! I didn't even want to read it, I didn't even want to go to the library! And goodness knows that Sharon didn’t want to go either, she just doesn't me the way I am as her step-daughter! I found something in that book that INSPIRED me, made me want to be better, and of course, you two won't allow that! And just so you know, I'm going to find the person who wrote the note, and maybe I'll CHANGE, so that I can fit your stupid impossible standards that are anything but who I want to be! Hmmmm? Oh, now you're listening, because there's something in it for you! Guess what else? I'm not doing this for you, I'm doing it for me, and for the person who wrote the note!" I was done, done, done. I stormed upstairs and slid my laptop out from under my bed and slammed it onto my desk. "Teagan Hilton," I whispered as I typed it into the Google search bar. "Teagan Hilton," I said, as the page loaded. And, "Teagan Hilton," I groaned as, not tens, not hundreds, THOUSANDS of results popped up onto the page. "Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh-ugar," I snapped to no one in particular. Frustrated, and hoping for a break, I logged onto my Facebook. "Teagan Hilton," I snarled to my laptop as I punched the keys. But, lo and behold, there were, not thousands, not hundreds, but NINE! I guess there aren't many Teagan's on Facebook. Here's hoping one of them was the one I was looking for. I messaged all of them about the note. But as soon as I finished messaging, I became horribly restless. Have they replied now? Now? How about now? I sat there for HOURS, and none of them replied. I fell asleep with my face on the keyboard of my laptop.
***********************************************
"AAACCCKKKK," I shouted, waking up suddenly as something dinged in my laptop. I logged on, and, cue slight hyperventilation/slight hyperecstasy. I slowly typed in my password for Facebook. And there was a message from the third Teagan that I had messaged. I looked at the note, read it all the way through. When I got to the end of the message, I could not believe it. No. This is NOT the truth. The message said, “No, I’m not Teagan. I’m her mom, Andrea. Teagan died a while ago. From leukemia. Teagan could have written the note, I don’t know. But I’m glad that you were inspired. The world could use more inspiration for good things.”
*******************************************
Teagan Hilton, dead? No, that couldn’t be. It isn’t right. But alas, what was in the note, and what her mom had said confirmed my worst fears. Teagan’s death, it all lined up. Teagan was dead. I was left to finish this mission by myself.
“Hey. I’m Teagan. I have leukemia. Yeah. And I will probably die before I should. That sucks. But before I go, I’m going to make sure that I leave traces of me. I’m going to change the world. Don’t even doubt me. I want the world to be a brighter, happier, more peaceful place. A less cruel one, a world where everyone at least gets along. And I know what you’re probably thinking, “Well, that’s crap. That’ll never happen. What a stupid idea.” And that’s what a lot of people think. But maybe that’s the problem. What if, instead of that mindset, people thought, “Well, I’m going to go out today and be nice to everyone that I come across today?” What if? That’d be great. So, if you happen to be reading this note right now, do something good. Get off your lazy thang and do something good! Pass it on, pay it forward, that sort of stuff. You can start an amazing thing. Wouldn’t it be great to change the world? My life was cut short, so I was never able to change the world, directly. But I’d like you to do what I couldn’t. Go on. Do something GREAT. Be amazing. Change the world.
Teagan is dead. And there was only one thing that I could do about it. Do something good.
********************************************
“Nic!” Deja vu. Sharon was calling my name from downstairs, and heaven knows that there was something that she wanted me to do. Shoot. I dropped the note on my bed and ran down as to not disappoint her any further with my delinquent-ness. “Nic!”
“I’m here. What do you need?”
“You father and I are going out for coffee this morning. You are staying home. Make yourself breakfast. If you need to buy anything, use your own cash. We’ll be gone the entire day, we expect dinner to be made by the time we’re back.”
“Aye, captain.” I said, rolling my eyes as soon as she turned around. Sharon swept out the door like the high and mighty thing that she thinks she is. I peered in the fridge. Shoot. I actually had to go to the store. Using my own cash. I was pretty much broke. I dug in my pockets and scrounged up a few dollars, and hopped on my bike to ride to the store. I had enough for the items that I was buying, with a bit extra. There was a little girl standing behind me with her mother. The little girl had a package of candy in her hand, and continued to brag to her mom that she was a big girl, and got to use her own money to buy her own treat. I checked the price sticker underneath the display for the candy. It cost a dollar, which was all that I had left after my shopping spree. I looked at the girl, thought of the note, and looked back at the money in my hand. I leaned towards the cashier, handed her the money, and whispered, “Use this to pay for that little girl’s candy. Tell her to pay it forward.” The cashier, Becky, nodded, and smiled at me. I smiled back and made my exit.
As I pedaled home, I realized that that was what Teagan had meant about good deeds. It felt good to do good.
That week, I did all sorts of random acts of kindness. And none of my subjects knew that it was me. I left a hot bag of fast food next to a sleeping homeless man. I helped an older woman carry her groceries to her car. I bought a gift card to a local restaurant for a veteran, and went around town leaving coins heads up where they might be found. And every time I did a good deed, I said, or left a note saying, “Pay It Forward.” Ever since finding that note from Teagan, and ever since I payed for that little girl’s candy, I have felt a change in myself, and a change in the world. I could feel the world becoming a better place. I noticed people committing little random acts of kindness. And I was on the receiving end of one, when my friends had the entire school bus sing “Happy Birthday,” to me on my birthday. I made a change, and Teagan, even though she wasn’t here, had played an instrumental role in this change. The world was becoming a better place, because of all of us. Amazing. Always remember, that one person can make a change. This change started with a note left by a dead girl in a library book. While you’re alive, make a difference. Change the world.
"Yeah?"
"I’m going to the library, and you’re coming. Come on!"
"Alright, alright. Sheesh. What exactly is the point of books when I could simply lay here doing nothing this entire summer like I planned?" I grumbled irritably.
Sharon was right. It was hot, and I was only going to lay on my bed the whole summer with nothing else, which might possibly kill me with boredom, but gosh, books. She couldn't think of any other time killer? Next thing I knew, we were at the library. The huge brick building glared down at me, as if sensing that I didn't want to be there. I scurried up the steps to escape the reproving face of the library, and found myself in a huge, cool, quiet, book filled room. I stared for a full ten seconds until Sharon brought me back to my senses by hitting me in the shoulder with an atlas. "Come on!" She hissed. "There's a section that I think that you might like." She dragged me to the teens section because, after all, I am only fourteen. Sharon is my stepmom. My dad married her after my mom died. But Sharon is alright, I guess. When she’s not trying to make me into one of those good students who always turns in their homework, doesn't talk back to the teacher, reads, all that crap. That's the only reason that she took me to the library. She doesn't want a juvenile delinquent as a stepdaughter, so here we are. I searched the shelves, not looking for anything particular, until one book caught my eye. I had no idea why. It looked boring, the title was boring, everything about it looked like I should pass it up and move on with my life. But I didn't. I pulled it from the shelf, sat on the floor, and skimmed. Until I came to page thirty nine. The page itself was mostly blank, one of those pages before a new chapter. But there was an extra piece of paper in the book. A note. To whom, I didn't know. But as I read the words written in the book, I knew that I would have to find out. I read the note so many times that I had it memorized, and I couldn't have forgotten it if I wanted. I raced to the check out counter faster than appropriate for a library, and shoved the book at the startled librarian. "Who checked this out last!" I shouted. My outburst drew Sharon to where I was almost instantly
"Nicole!" Sharon scolded. "I'm sorry, miss, she can get a little overexcited about things. Nicole, put the book down and go outside. Now. Your father and I will speak to you when we get home. The librarian looked less scared of me now, so I asked her again, hoping for an answer. "Please, I really need to know. There's something in this book, and it's extraordinarily important that I find out who had this book before me!" I was yelling again, and the librarian had shrunk against the far wall. Sharon grabbed my shoulder, and began forcibly dragging me out of the library.
"Wait," the librarian said. "You found it, didn't you?" She asked. I nodded. "Teagan Hilton." And just like that, she turned back to her books, and it was as if our conversation had never happened. But Sharon was to have none of it.
"Get your delinquent behind out of this library NOW!" Sharon shouted, now completely disregarding the fact that libraries are supposed to be quiet. Not completely wanting her to have some sort of stressful breakdown, I walked out, knowing that I was completely dead when I got home.
***********************************************************
"Nicole," my father started. "Nicole, what were you thinking? Scaring a librarian, disturbing many other people who were trying to read, and put a fake note that you wrote into a library book for attention. Shame on you. What would your mother say if she knew about this?" He was going to continue, but I was to have NONE of it.
"Well guess what? Mom isn't here. She isn't coming back! Never, and it's time that you accepted that. I did NOT put any note in that book! I didn't even want to read it, I didn't even want to go to the library! And goodness knows that Sharon didn’t want to go either, she just doesn't me the way I am as her step-daughter! I found something in that book that INSPIRED me, made me want to be better, and of course, you two won't allow that! And just so you know, I'm going to find the person who wrote the note, and maybe I'll CHANGE, so that I can fit your stupid impossible standards that are anything but who I want to be! Hmmmm? Oh, now you're listening, because there's something in it for you! Guess what else? I'm not doing this for you, I'm doing it for me, and for the person who wrote the note!" I was done, done, done. I stormed upstairs and slid my laptop out from under my bed and slammed it onto my desk. "Teagan Hilton," I whispered as I typed it into the Google search bar. "Teagan Hilton," I said, as the page loaded. And, "Teagan Hilton," I groaned as, not tens, not hundreds, THOUSANDS of results popped up onto the page. "Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh-ugar," I snapped to no one in particular. Frustrated, and hoping for a break, I logged onto my Facebook. "Teagan Hilton," I snarled to my laptop as I punched the keys. But, lo and behold, there were, not thousands, not hundreds, but NINE! I guess there aren't many Teagan's on Facebook. Here's hoping one of them was the one I was looking for. I messaged all of them about the note. But as soon as I finished messaging, I became horribly restless. Have they replied now? Now? How about now? I sat there for HOURS, and none of them replied. I fell asleep with my face on the keyboard of my laptop.
***********************************************
"AAACCCKKKK," I shouted, waking up suddenly as something dinged in my laptop. I logged on, and, cue slight hyperventilation/slight hyperecstasy. I slowly typed in my password for Facebook. And there was a message from the third Teagan that I had messaged. I looked at the note, read it all the way through. When I got to the end of the message, I could not believe it. No. This is NOT the truth. The message said, “No, I’m not Teagan. I’m her mom, Andrea. Teagan died a while ago. From leukemia. Teagan could have written the note, I don’t know. But I’m glad that you were inspired. The world could use more inspiration for good things.”
*******************************************
Teagan Hilton, dead? No, that couldn’t be. It isn’t right. But alas, what was in the note, and what her mom had said confirmed my worst fears. Teagan’s death, it all lined up. Teagan was dead. I was left to finish this mission by myself.
“Hey. I’m Teagan. I have leukemia. Yeah. And I will probably die before I should. That sucks. But before I go, I’m going to make sure that I leave traces of me. I’m going to change the world. Don’t even doubt me. I want the world to be a brighter, happier, more peaceful place. A less cruel one, a world where everyone at least gets along. And I know what you’re probably thinking, “Well, that’s crap. That’ll never happen. What a stupid idea.” And that’s what a lot of people think. But maybe that’s the problem. What if, instead of that mindset, people thought, “Well, I’m going to go out today and be nice to everyone that I come across today?” What if? That’d be great. So, if you happen to be reading this note right now, do something good. Get off your lazy thang and do something good! Pass it on, pay it forward, that sort of stuff. You can start an amazing thing. Wouldn’t it be great to change the world? My life was cut short, so I was never able to change the world, directly. But I’d like you to do what I couldn’t. Go on. Do something GREAT. Be amazing. Change the world.
Teagan is dead. And there was only one thing that I could do about it. Do something good.
********************************************
“Nic!” Deja vu. Sharon was calling my name from downstairs, and heaven knows that there was something that she wanted me to do. Shoot. I dropped the note on my bed and ran down as to not disappoint her any further with my delinquent-ness. “Nic!”
“I’m here. What do you need?”
“You father and I are going out for coffee this morning. You are staying home. Make yourself breakfast. If you need to buy anything, use your own cash. We’ll be gone the entire day, we expect dinner to be made by the time we’re back.”
“Aye, captain.” I said, rolling my eyes as soon as she turned around. Sharon swept out the door like the high and mighty thing that she thinks she is. I peered in the fridge. Shoot. I actually had to go to the store. Using my own cash. I was pretty much broke. I dug in my pockets and scrounged up a few dollars, and hopped on my bike to ride to the store. I had enough for the items that I was buying, with a bit extra. There was a little girl standing behind me with her mother. The little girl had a package of candy in her hand, and continued to brag to her mom that she was a big girl, and got to use her own money to buy her own treat. I checked the price sticker underneath the display for the candy. It cost a dollar, which was all that I had left after my shopping spree. I looked at the girl, thought of the note, and looked back at the money in my hand. I leaned towards the cashier, handed her the money, and whispered, “Use this to pay for that little girl’s candy. Tell her to pay it forward.” The cashier, Becky, nodded, and smiled at me. I smiled back and made my exit.
As I pedaled home, I realized that that was what Teagan had meant about good deeds. It felt good to do good.
That week, I did all sorts of random acts of kindness. And none of my subjects knew that it was me. I left a hot bag of fast food next to a sleeping homeless man. I helped an older woman carry her groceries to her car. I bought a gift card to a local restaurant for a veteran, and went around town leaving coins heads up where they might be found. And every time I did a good deed, I said, or left a note saying, “Pay It Forward.” Ever since finding that note from Teagan, and ever since I payed for that little girl’s candy, I have felt a change in myself, and a change in the world. I could feel the world becoming a better place. I noticed people committing little random acts of kindness. And I was on the receiving end of one, when my friends had the entire school bus sing “Happy Birthday,” to me on my birthday. I made a change, and Teagan, even though she wasn’t here, had played an instrumental role in this change. The world was becoming a better place, because of all of us. Amazing. Always remember, that one person can make a change. This change started with a note left by a dead girl in a library book. While you’re alive, make a difference. Change the world.
History of wizardry
Ezumalid was a wizard boy that lived in a cozy cottage in the Dank Forest in the world Arkin. Though he didn’t know what was about to happen to him at his house, the axe-raiders had it all planned. Axe-raiders were creatures of large size with gray skin, their faces grotesque, and their head shaped into an axe. They were very big and creatures anyone wouldn’t want to see. Their eyesight isn’t as good in the light, but they see like eagle eyes in the dark. Vish and the axe-raiders were at the Sermin headquarters the day before the attack. The three Sermins were three dark wizards, brothers born from a cruel king, Malignant the Third, who ruled with magic and sorcery in Arkin’s capital Paranl. Those were dark times. The three Sermins used to be just like Ezumalid, but when their father Malignant ruled with his harsh ways of darkness and magic, it changed them. Before they were named the Three Sermins, they were named Tuzix, Zonopj, and Reseit. They were very silent brothers, and always received education from their private tutors or teachers at home. King Malignant III destroyed all public schools, for he didn’t know what they were teaching. After that, there hasn’t been any public schools in Arkin since. Ever since then, parents have either forgotten how to teach children education in the generations past in Arkin.
There was a time when public schools were dominant in Arkin, but only for a short time. Until the earlier king, who ruled with good ways named King Grefagan II, a man named Malignant was his advisor and was extremely jealous of the King Grefagan’s power. So Malignant decided to assassinate King Grefagan II with the help of some of his royal friends. When Malignant ruled over Arkin, it was a dark place. Schools all around Arkin had to close since many of their books were burned.
The question was, why was King Malignant burning the books? For a reason. King Malignant never told this reason. This secret reason was Arkinian schools used to teach magic in books along with the similar subjects schools have. Since King Malignant discovered teachers were teaching magic, he banned it and killed those who taught it. The answer to why he didn’t want people learning magic would be so they wouldn’t rise up against him and defeat him. There was one wizard who used to be a teacher in the Arkinian schools but then had hidden during the dark years named Omereg. Omereg soon rose up against him with an elf army and defeated him. King Malignant’s sons were furious, and raged to get revenge. They fled their castle and built the Dark Kingdom instead.
When they built the Dark Kingdom, a man met them, great power he had, and who used to be a king himself. This person called himself the “Dark Lord” and for some reason, he persuaded the three young princes to let him join and help them build the Dark Kingdom Empire. The wizards agreed, and sooner or later discovered this Dark Lord was a sorcerer himself. They became enveloped in dark magic and became known as the Three Sermins.
These Sermins created axe-raiders with their evil magic and ruled the whole world of Arkin thereafter. But before that, there was King Omereg, who had been leader of Arkin for a long time after defeating King Malignant. The Sermins overpowered him and banished him out of Arkin, threatening to kill him if he came back. Omereg soon was living in an old cottage home. He had an unknown son from his wife, Queen Verana, who was named John, who didn’t have any magical powers. Verana died from an illness, having being kept imprisoned in the kingdom and having a baby at the same time. Verana had met Omereg after his conquer and had fallen in love with him quickly. The Sermins took the baby John and orphaned him to their relatives Berado and Poracqa, who were their aunt and uncle who also practiced dark magic since John had no powers. Berado and Poracqa both died while John was growing up never telling John of their magic, and John soon ran away to find his own home. He met a woman named Maila and fell in love with her immediately.
When Maila and John had a newborn, he was named Ezumalid. Surprisingly, Ezumalid had magic powers. John knew Ezumalid hadn’t gotten those powers from him, but Maila. John found out Maila was an enchantress who was part elf and part human and who practiced magic.
Ezumalid grew up to learn fast, and Maila (really mostly) and John taught him magic from hidden magic books John had got from his real father Omereg, whom he met years after he met Maila. Omereg had congratulated him for his new family, but had told John to leave with Maila before it was too late.
As the three Sermins grew to power in Arkin, they began gaining news from people around the villages about a new wizard. The three Sermins were furious and sent vast searches across Arkin until they found Ezumalid’s home.
There was a time when public schools were dominant in Arkin, but only for a short time. Until the earlier king, who ruled with good ways named King Grefagan II, a man named Malignant was his advisor and was extremely jealous of the King Grefagan’s power. So Malignant decided to assassinate King Grefagan II with the help of some of his royal friends. When Malignant ruled over Arkin, it was a dark place. Schools all around Arkin had to close since many of their books were burned.
The question was, why was King Malignant burning the books? For a reason. King Malignant never told this reason. This secret reason was Arkinian schools used to teach magic in books along with the similar subjects schools have. Since King Malignant discovered teachers were teaching magic, he banned it and killed those who taught it. The answer to why he didn’t want people learning magic would be so they wouldn’t rise up against him and defeat him. There was one wizard who used to be a teacher in the Arkinian schools but then had hidden during the dark years named Omereg. Omereg soon rose up against him with an elf army and defeated him. King Malignant’s sons were furious, and raged to get revenge. They fled their castle and built the Dark Kingdom instead.
When they built the Dark Kingdom, a man met them, great power he had, and who used to be a king himself. This person called himself the “Dark Lord” and for some reason, he persuaded the three young princes to let him join and help them build the Dark Kingdom Empire. The wizards agreed, and sooner or later discovered this Dark Lord was a sorcerer himself. They became enveloped in dark magic and became known as the Three Sermins.
These Sermins created axe-raiders with their evil magic and ruled the whole world of Arkin thereafter. But before that, there was King Omereg, who had been leader of Arkin for a long time after defeating King Malignant. The Sermins overpowered him and banished him out of Arkin, threatening to kill him if he came back. Omereg soon was living in an old cottage home. He had an unknown son from his wife, Queen Verana, who was named John, who didn’t have any magical powers. Verana died from an illness, having being kept imprisoned in the kingdom and having a baby at the same time. Verana had met Omereg after his conquer and had fallen in love with him quickly. The Sermins took the baby John and orphaned him to their relatives Berado and Poracqa, who were their aunt and uncle who also practiced dark magic since John had no powers. Berado and Poracqa both died while John was growing up never telling John of their magic, and John soon ran away to find his own home. He met a woman named Maila and fell in love with her immediately.
When Maila and John had a newborn, he was named Ezumalid. Surprisingly, Ezumalid had magic powers. John knew Ezumalid hadn’t gotten those powers from him, but Maila. John found out Maila was an enchantress who was part elf and part human and who practiced magic.
Ezumalid grew up to learn fast, and Maila (really mostly) and John taught him magic from hidden magic books John had got from his real father Omereg, whom he met years after he met Maila. Omereg had congratulated him for his new family, but had told John to leave with Maila before it was too late.
As the three Sermins grew to power in Arkin, they began gaining news from people around the villages about a new wizard. The three Sermins were furious and sent vast searches across Arkin until they found Ezumalid’s home.