The Guardian of Threshold (35 page)

“Without a doubt,” I replied.

Carla picked up her backpack and left, still in her pajamas. She rushed across the street—just in time too, because not five minutes passed before I heard a car pull into the driveway.

I looked outside the window and saw that my dad was home. It was the first time in years that I saw my dad up early on a Sunday morning, a day he usually reserved to sleep late.

“Good morning,” said my dad, looking surprised to see me up and about that early.

“Morning, Dad, how did you sleep?” I asked, wondering how I was going to tell him everything that had happened.

Since I couldn’t decide the best way to tell him, I pulled a Jonas on him.

“Dad, we need to have a serious talk,” I said bluntly.

“What’s wrong, Son? Is it drugs?” he asked.

“No, Dad, as matter of fact, nothing is really wrong, but I have to tell you something important,” I replied.

“What happened?” my dad asked again, still looking worried.

“Dad, I know that you’re an atheist and all, and I respect that, but I need you to know that as much as you’re my role model, I can’t share your disinterest for religions, because I believe… Dad, I guess what I’m trying to say is that I can’t be an atheist like you because I believe in life after death. Not only that, I have irrefutable proof that life exists beyond death.” I was afraid I would hurt his feelings, and that was the last thing that I wanted to do. But he needed to know the truth.

“What are you saying exactly, Son?” he asked after a minute or so of silence.

“There is no easy way to say this, Dad, so I want to apologize in advance. Dad, I saw Mom last night. Not only last night, but for a few days now,” I said, afraid of his reaction.

“Son, it can’t be true, your mother is dead. You know, she has been dead for many years. You better accept that. And it’s really unhealthy to think otherwise,” he replied.

“Listen, Dad, I know how this whole thing sounds, but regardless of your personal beliefs, are you willing to put that aside for a minute and let me explain? Do you want to know the truth? Do you want to know what happened to me?” I asked.

We exchange looks for a few seconds before he took a deep breath.

“Son, I want to believe what you’re telling me. Trust me, I really do, but it’s very hard to accept. It goes against everything that I believe to be the truth. However, I’ll listen because you’re my son, and what you think matters most to me,” he said.

We sat at the kitchen table, and I told him everything that had happened to me in the past few weeks. At times, he seemed like he might storm out of the room, while at other times he looked like he was about to cry. Yet he endured my whole story and sat there bravely, only interrupting me a couple times to clear up a question or two.

“That’s an amazing story, Son, but I fail to see how that’s anything other than a dream,” he replied.

“Dad, I haven’t told you the whole story yet. Jonas and Carla were also there. They slept here last night because their parents also got snowed in. They just left a few minutes ago, after we checked the results of an experiment we did. They also remember everything that happened last night in Threshold, and they too saw Mom,” I explained.

He sat there, looking serious and thoughtful.

“Dad, I’m sorry if you’re mad, I figured it was better to tell you everything,” I said.

“Son, I’m not mad. If anything, I’m very proud of you. Your mother has taught you well. She used to say that if she could teach you only one thing, it would be to always follow your heart. I trust you, Son. I know that you did what you thought was best in a bad situation, but as far as this out-of-body experience is concerned, perhaps it was only a shared dream,” he explained.

“Dad, Mom wanted me to give you a message,” I said with a knot in my throat and my eyes filled with tears.

“What message?” he asked as his lips shook. He was almost crying.

“Mom wanted me to tell you that it’s okay for you to live your life fully and that you should find someone to keep you company,” I said as he started to sob uncontrollably. “She also wanted me to tell you she had a feeling that her time with us would be short, so she wrote us a letter and hid it behind your wedding picture frame. She also said that apart from the day I was born, her wedding day was the happiest day of her life. Oh, and before I forget, she told me to ask you to please fix the porch,” I said as we both looked at each other with tears in our eyes.

“I’m sorry for doubting you, Son. I love you so much. You guys were my world. I’m sorry for letting you down after she passed away. I just missed her so much that it hurt,” my dad said, sobbing.

“Dad, I love you too, and you don’t have anything to be sorry for. Come, let’s go find her letter,” I said as we both stood in the kitchen, hugging and crying.

After we dried our tears, we went upstairs to find my mother’s good-bye letter. We read it together, taking turns and crying some more. So many years had passed since her passing, and only now were we finally able to properly mourn her.

I felt deeply blessed by the whole experience. Over the course of the next few weeks, our relationship slowly transformed. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that my dad became an ex-atheist, but he tried hard to believe that the human soul is in the very least immortal.

In the meantime, I found solace knowing my mother was watching over us and that one day we’d be together again.

THE END

Coming Soon:

I Am Goblin- MG

(Book One of the I Am Series)

May 2013

&

Dweller on the Threshold- YA

(Book Two of the Threshold Series)

July 2013

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www.TheGuardianOfThreshold.com

See next page for I Am Goblin excerpt

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Excerpt from: I Am Goblin

This is a sample and it’s not supposed to represent a finished product.

Chapter One

Who Am I?

If you saw me in the streets of Boston, you wouldn’t recognize me, of that I bet you 100 gold shiverings. You would never guess what I am and more importantly where I’m from.

You would think that at least my age you could guess, but you would most certainly be wrong. Appearances are a funny thing in my kind.

You see, I’m cursed. My curse is that everyone thinks that I’m ten, but I couldn’t be. For, I have not a single tooth left, my hair is grizzly white—nearing baldness and if that weren’t enough, the little hairs I have left resemble a brillo pad. Granted, I’m as tall as a ten year old, but doesn’t anyone see my battle scars? Or the green tinge of my skin? Surely, my long and pointy ears should be enough to make everyone run as though the world was coming to an end, but no. People just tell me how much I’ve grown since they last saw me and how cute I am.

At times, I wonder if I’m the one cursed or they are. All those people living their miserable lives, working for monopoly money. Imagine that, a content life with just a smidgen of gold, sometimes just a trinket or two. How is that possible?

How rude of me, I didn’t even introduce myself. I’m Clash. Goldblood is the last name. My family owns this city, well not technically, but in a sense. My mother is the school principal so she bosses everyone around. My father owns the biggest building in the city, you may have heard of it. It’s called “The Prudential Building.” Okay, okay you got me, he doesn’t own it yet, but he manages it. Their jobs are so important that I have lost track of how many shiverings they bring home, and I don’t normally lose track of such things. You don’t believe me? I’ll show you. Since I was born I’ve collected 6,278 gold shiverings and spent a whopping 37 shiverings.

I know, I splurged, but it was for a good cause. Ember needed my help. What was I supposed to do? Let her cry?

Sigh… I guess you still haven’t figured out who I am, well trust me it’s for the best. Anyway, she had lost her precious trinket and was inconsolable, I don’t even know why; it wasn’t even made of real gold. How do I know? I know gold when I see it, besides I get this unmistakable itchy feeling on the tip of my nose whenever I’m near it.

So, in a moment of insanity, I opened my super-secret safe and took out the 30 shiverings. It sort of worked. I mean, Ember stopped crying after I gave her another trinket. However, every time I remember that I spent 30 shiverings I feel like crying myself.

I wonder if you are ready to know who I am? First, promise not to tell anyone… Okay, I’ll just assume you did.

Come closer… okay listen… I’m cursed to look like a regular boy, like any other 10 year old. But, I’m not. Far from it, I’m really a—I’m a goblin… there I said it.

My dad is a goblin too, but nobody knows that, not even himself. As far as my mother, well I couldn’t figure that out yet. I can never catch her near a mirror to check.

But, there is more. Like that wasn’t enough. My dad’s boss, Mr. Moneybags is also not what he seems. Promise you won’t laugh? Okay, don’t tell anyone I said it, but he’s a leprechaun.

That’s right, a freaking leprechaun.

What’s worse is that my father doesn’t believe me. Imagine that, a goblin working for a leprechaun. That’s wrong in so many ways that I can’t even begin to describe, but for the sake of argument I’ll try.

Everyone knows that goblins love gold—in fact I would even say there is nothing we like more—and what do leprechauns love to steal? That’s right, gold. I can tell you one thing for sure, no sleazy-ball leprechaun is coming anywhere near my shiverings. The reason Mr. Moneybags has so much money is because he stole our family’s gold.

How else do you think Mr. Moneybags got that name? Not to mention that building. Even if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll see to it that the Prudential gets returned to my family. Besides, that’s the only way I can get this curse broken and assume my true goblin form.

Here is how I figured it happened, my family owned the Prudential for centuries. I assume that we lived on top in the penthouse, but maybe the penthouse was in the basement since it is closer to the super-secret-hidden underground vault. On a rainy day Mr. Moneybags—well, back then he was called Mr. Nobags—rang the doorbell of 800 Boylston Street. My father’s soft spot must have taken control over his actions and he probably offered Mr. Nobags a job. But, little did he know that Mr. Nobags had a master plan and in an ultimate act of betrayal Mr. Nobags stole our family super-secret-hidden vault when my father trusted him with its super-secret location.

From that day forward, I suppose Mr. Nobags became Mr. Moneybags and my family was evicted from the Prudential. I can only assume that Mr. Moneybags offered my dad the manager’s position so that he could keep a close eye on him and my father probably accepted the offer to do the same to Mr. Slimebal—Mr. Moneybags.

So now it’s up to me to fix the mess that Mr. Moneybags caused.

I was finally in a position to execute my 1
^st
plan of action. I was on my way to my new school.

It was called “Kids are People Elementary School” or something like that, I guess nobody told them that some kids aren’t people but goblins. Maybe I should let them know that. Anyway, the reason I chose this particular school was because that’s the school Mr. Moneybags’ kids attended.

My 2
^nd
plan of action is to discover their names and befriend the little slime-balls. That shouldn’t be too hard since I’m bringing my secret weapon, the reflectionator. What’s a reflectionator you asked? Well, to put in terms your ungoblin mind can understand, let’s just say it’s… a mirror.

I doubted there would be many leprechauns in that one school. Just thinking the word leprechauns made me feel nauseated. To distract myself I looked outside the bus window, and as luck would have it, we happened to be passing right in front of the Prudential Building. Maybe it was a sign that my family was destined to own that building again.

Since the bus came to a complete stop in front of Dunkin’ Donuts, I thought we were getting breakfast or something. But, I was wrong; the school was located just above the store.

As I went up the stairs to the office, Mrs. Buttkins greeted me with the most unnatural morning smile.

“You must be Clash, we’ve been expecting you.”

“Hello,” I said unsure of what else to say.

“You’ll love it here. We have music and poetry. Talking about that, here is your journal. We encourage every student to keep a diary. Follow me.”

Mrs. Buttkins took me on a tour of the place. She showed me the library, the different classes, media rooms and bathroom. The whole grand tour took less than five minutes.

“Your teacher today will be Miss Robinson.”

“Huh, excuse us, Miss Robinson. This is Clash, he’ll be starting today.”

“Oh hi, nice to meet you. Let me see… here you are, Clash Goldblood is it? Wow, what a fancy name. Please come in and have a seat.”

I quickly scanned the classroom and among so many ugly human heads I spotted a single familiar face, Ember’s… And as luck would have it, next to her was the only free seat in the whole class. It took me ten long steps to get to my seat. I know because I counted them. My face was beet red as everyone stopped doing whatever they were doing to stare at me.

I felt so out of place that I almost tripped on my own feet. Luckily, nobody seemed to notice, at least I hoped they didn’t. I looked at Ember and she smiled at me. Somehow her smile was warming and comforting.

Miss Robinson was nice enough, but this school was nothing like my old public school. Everything and everyone seemed more… preppy. Even the subject matter seemed harder, but the teacher was more patient.

I couldn’t wait to get started with my nefarious goblin plans. He was here, I could sense it. One of these innocent looking kids was a sleazy, slimy and greedy leprechaun.

Wait a minute…
I thought.
All I have to do is look for someone wearing green,
I told myself.