New Cover, and a Brand New Crop of Readers!

What do you think, fans? We like the new cover, with its more sinister feel much better than the RL Stine knock off we had before! Don't you agree? The Wishmonger has been completely revised and is now available for 99cents on Amazon! Check this out, The Wishmonger, the story you read here first! http://write-to-be-heard.blogspot.com/2014/09/case-study-in-ebook-publishng-wishmonger.html
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Chapter 9 A Midnight Visit From Matthias

Chapter 9

A Midnight Visit From Matthias

That night Roger could not sleep. He lay awake watching the shifting patterns of moonlight on his ceiling. The shadows took on the forms of the various characters that had peopled his dreams and waking hours in the last few days. First there was Matthias wearing a big grin as if to say, I told you, you could do it. He was chased from the room by the man in black who, Roger now knew, was his uncle. The cold shadow felt so real that Roger sat up to look around.

“Hey…” Roger had no idea how long his Dad had been sitting in the corner of the room, “I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry about the way I responded to you. You deserve to know the truth about your uncle. I’m just not ready to tell it yet.”

“That’s okay Dad. I think I understand. It must be something big to scare you like this.”

His Dad smiled, “ Is that what you think? That I’m afraid of him?”

Roger was confused, “Well, aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah, he’s a scary guy. But…I’m not afraid for me. What happened between us was so long ago, he can’t hurt me now. I’m afraid for you and your Mom.” James Pine stood and looked out of the window.

Roger could see that his Father looked exhausted. He reached under the pillow and felt the key. He would have loved to share what he knew, but he and Joey had decided that the fewer people who knew, the better. All the pieces were in place now. All that was needed now was to make a wish.

“Don’t worry, Dad, it’s all going to turn out okay.” Roger gripped the key. It was up to him now. He was ready to save this town ,that meant so much to his father, whatever the cost.

“You say that like you mean it, son. I don’t know why, but I believe you.” His father bent over him, kissed his

cheek and left as quietly as he had come.

Roger rolled over and was drifting off to sleep when a sudden noise woke him. He sat up expecting to find his father had forgotten something. It was not his father who sat shrouded in black at the foot of his bed. Roger shook with fear. The figure turned, revealing Matthias bearded face. Roger nearly passed out from relief.

“ I thought he would never leave.” Matthias whispered.

“What are you doing here? You nearly scared me to death. How did you get in?” Roger choked.

“Has anyone ever told you it’s easier to answer questions if they’re asked one at a time? I came to give you this,” Matthias flipped a golden coin with his thumb and caught it in his other hand, “here.”

Roger took the coin. It was the one that he and all of Wishful had watched Matthias steal from midair the night before, “What do I need this for?”

“Did you know that legend says a true wish must be made on a gold coin?” the old man asked.

Roger looked at the coin carefully, “This is real gold?”

“And you increase your chances if it’s made in a place where another wish has come true.” Matthias was ignoring the question.

Roger was curious, “Why are you telling me this?”

“ I want you to listen carefully. The power of wishes

doesn’t come in the shape of coins or fountains. The power of a wish comes from the wisher.”

“Then what about the fountain? It doesn’t work?” Roger wasn’t prepared to believe that.

The old storyteller smiled, “That depends on the wisher. Roger, you should know that if you decide to use that key some people will not be happy about it.”

Roger wasn’t sure he had heard correctly, “If?”
“Well the choice is up to you. You have to decide if saving Wishful is worth the price.” Matthias looked him straight in the eye.

“I’m not sure I understand. Why did you take me through

all of this? If not to use it, when we find it, that is?” Roger wasn’t sure why but suddenly the image of his uncle warning everyone about this harmless looking man entered his mind. What if he were right? What if Matthias, or what was it the voice had called him, Eli? What if whoever he was could not be trusted. He wouldn’t tell him about finding the key just yet.

Matthias sighed, “There are bigger things than wishes, boy. You’re being prepared.”

“Now I’m sure I don’t understand. What are you talking about?” Roger moved closer to the end of the bed.

The old man looked at him quizzically, “I take it you didn’t finish your library research. Well no bother, it’ll come. Remember there’s one more part to your quest.”

“Quest? Oh, that silly riddle? But I thought that was about the key.”

“The key is only the beginning. Remember, the silly riddle as you called it, don’t forget,” the old man coughed, “And you should find a better hiding place than under your pillow. What if the Tooth Fairy should show up?”

Roger’s door opened. His father stood there in his pajamas. “Who are you talking to? I thought I heard voices.”

Great! How would he explain….Matthias was gone! “Sorry, must have been dreaming, I guess.” His father closed the door and padded down the stairs.

Must have been a dream, he thought. How else did Matthias get in and out without being seen? Roger laid down and closed his eyes. He slid his hand under his pillow. There was something in it. He sat up quickly and opened his palm. There in his hand where Matthias had left it was the gold coin! Roger quickly climbed out of bed. He grabbed the map light from his backpack on the back of his desk chair and turned it on. He snuck silently over to the closet and threw open the door, expecting to see Matthias. Instead all he found was his clothes and the locked wooden box containing the journal. This must be how Matthias had known about the key. He must have snuck in while Roger had been brushing his teeth or something and hidden in the closet. The pillow hiding place had been a lucky guess.

Roger checked under the bed just to be safe. Matthias was definitely gone. Why had he been here? Just to give Roger a warning? What had he said about library research?

Roger hadn’t thought about what they had found in the hall of records since their narrow escape. The discovery of the key in a box in his own garage had pretty much wiped it from is mind.

He sat down at the desk to think. What was it he had seen? He remembered that the cartons were labeled with his Grandmother’s name. And the two birth certificates they had found matched his dad and uncle with one exception. Their name was Pine, Roger was sure of that. He had seen pictures of his grandmother Pine. He knew that her home sat on the top of the hill overlooking Wishful. The two boys in those documents had been named Wish. It could be a coincidence. Maybe his Grandmother had named her two sons after the Wish boys. That had to be it.

What else had his aged friend said? The riddle! Roger grabbed a notebook and pencil. The first line had been something about asking and receiving. He remembered that much for sure. The second line was easy because of the verse in the library, Seek and you will find.

In a candle lit room, down a dark alley somewhere in Wishful,Matthias pulled a door closed and turned to face the gathering, “Sorry for the delay, it couldn’t be helped. He’s been having me followed since the library. It took nearly an hour to lose them.”

A tall woman greeted him warmly, “We’re just glad you made it. Everyone’s here, tell us what you know.”

The circle of faces flickered in the candlelight, Matthias hated the mysterious feeling of it. But since their electricity usage had been tracked in the past, it was a necessary precaution, “It’s good to see you all, it’s been too long. We felt it would be wise to keep our gatherings to a minimum until we have everything in place. The boy is the one.”

A collective sigh of relief went up from the group, as if they had all been holding their breath, “He has the key. Benedict knows we were at the fountain. We must be ready to protect this young man from him if necessary.” They nodded in wary agreement. The members of the gathering were no strangers to combating the special kind of darkness that Benedict represented.

A round faced man spoke up, “What can we do?” Matthias looked around the circle with a grim smile, “Do

what you do best, pray.” And so they did. Late into the night they prayed for the city that meant so much to them.

An unseen creature standing guard on the dome of the town hall smiled quietly in agreement. He had waited a

long time for this.

Try as he might Roger could not remember the third part of Matthias’ riddle and he fell asleep at the desk. Roger’s dreams that night started with Roger flying out of his bedroom window. He was following Matthias who flew a little ahead. As they swooped down Roger’s street to the town square a big black limousine followed their progress from the ground. At one point his uncle climbed out of it and into a large tree that lined the street. He tried to grab Roger as he flew past. Roger escaped but his uncle managed to grab one of his shoes. He flew on , faster now, outdistancing the limousine that had to wait for Benedict Pine to climb back down from his tree.

They flew side by side now and Matthias was pointing. Roger looked at the spot the old man was indicating. It was a door in the back of a building Roger knew he had seen, but could not recognize from this angle.

“The door, knock on the door, I’ll lead your uncle away!” Matthias hollered.

Roger landed in the alley, his bare foot cold on the slightly moist pavement. He stepped up to the door and knocked. The door creaked open and Roger felt as if he were being sucked into the room beyond. The door slammed closed behind him. Dim red light permeated the room. As he walked he felt something brushing past his face. He looked up. Hanging from the ceiling were hundreds of gold fountain keys hanging from red velvet ribbons. Each of them had a different end. Some were round, some triangular, and still others octagonal. Roger walked through the keys and found himself in a long hallway.

The keys from the ceiling were the only similarity to the space he had just left. Brilliant green white light bounced off the pristine white surfaces. He followed the hallway for what seemed an eternity. Suddenly a voice behind him called his name! He turned to find the man in black floating down the hall, faster and faster. Roger turned and ran. The floor beneath changed to gravel and the stones pounded his bare foot mercilessly. Faces lined the hall. Screaming faces shouting, telling him to use the key. He knew he could never find the right key in all of these.

He ran as hard as his foot would allow, his uncle making up the distance between them. Finally the pain was too great and Roger stumbled and fell. As he lay looking up at the ceiling the room began to close in on him. He heard another voice calling his name.

This time a grandmotherly figure stood at the end of the shrinking hall beckoning to him from an open door. Roger flung himself up and through the door just as the room behind him collapsed crushing his pursuer. He now found himself in a wide open room. An extraordinarily tall, wispy, gypsy like woman hurried away humming to herself.

Roger tried to catch up, “Wait, wait for me.” The gypsy turned back with a smile, “Oh not now dear, come see

me tomorrow.”

Roger woke up to sunlight streaming through his window. Joey met Roger at the end of his driveway and the two set off for the half-mile trek to school. Their parents had encouraged him to ride the bus but Joey had convinced Roger that he would prefer the quiet morning walk to the overcrowded, noisy, and, sometimes, downright unreliable, bus.

It was the first day of school in a new town and it had taken quite a bit of convincing for Roger’s mom to let him go alone. Finally the combined arguments of the promised freedom of a small town, and the fact that Joey had the same class schedule, and would hold his hand if

need be, did the trick.

Roger filled his friend in on the midnight visit from Matthias and his latest dream. Joey couldn’t remember the last part of the verse either, but was fairly certain it was a quote from something. They decided to ask Miss Jarvis, their school librarian for help and stopped for

Monday breakfast.

Every Monday, for as long as he could remember, Joey had left fifteen minutes early to stop in at Top of the Morning for donuts. This had been a ritual for he and Jack. It was a cheerful little shop facing the town hall, wedged right between The Wishful Thinking billiard parlor and a used bookstore. Roger had a cinnamon roll. Joey told him that he tried something new every week and it was all good. The two boys bought their food and two bottles of orange juice and sat at the café’s only table situated in the front window of the shop.

It was a beautiful sunny morning and the mysterious happenings of the weekend seemed almost silly in the light of full day.

Joey laughed, “Look, it’s the rent-a-spy from Saturday.” Sure enough there on the corner, looking extremely confused, was the James Bond Wannabe in the cheap suit, “he looks like he lost something.”

Roger’s hand, which had been carrying his juice bottle to his mouth, froze in midair. Pulling up to the curb where ‘James Bond’ stood looking up and down the street was his uncle’s limousine. The back window rolled down and a face hidden behind a scarf and dark glasses emerged to

talk to the inept stalker.

“Yeah, he lost something! Us! Is there a back way out of here?”

Joey rolled back from the table, “come on.” Leaving their unfinished breakfast on the table the two boys hurried through the kitchen and out the back door.

George, the baker, hardly even looked up until the boys had left the building for the alley. He walked to the front of his shop and looked out the window. There it was, just as he had expected, Benedict’s limousine. George Popodolis smiled grimly, “Let the games begin.” He picked up the phone and dialed, it was answered on the first ring, “There here.” He hung up and with a quick glance at the limo he went back to his baking as if nothing had happened.

Once they had reached the relative safety of the alley Joey stopped, “Dude you could’ve at least let me get my donut wrapped up. It isn’t like they would kill us.”

Roger opened his backpack to reveal the wooden box that contained the key and Jeremish Wish’s journal, “They might if they knew I had this.”

“Oh!” Joey gulped, “What did you bring that thing for?”

Roger looked down the alley nervously, “After last night I thought I should keep it close. Besides my Mom does sometimes clean my room. What if she found it?” They started walking.

When they were about halfway down the alley the boys saw the black limousine pull up to the curb in the street ahead of them. Benedict Pine climbed out and seemed to be looking up and down the street. Roger knew he couldn’t see them, it was unnerving none the less. He looked around for a good hiding place. The building they were behind had a strange familiarity to it. He knew he’d never seen it before but something was definitely familiar, the door! It was the door from his dream!

Joey followed his gaze. They both looked at each other the memory of the riddle echoed in their minds. Knock, and the door will be opened unto you. They did. And it was. Two bony arms reached out and dragged them in out of the alley.

_________________________________________________________________________

Flying in dreams has always been a fascination with me. They say som people can and some people can't, although what that mean about those that can/can't is different for every interpreter. I have, but not recently, which probably says something about my life, but who knows what?

In the next chapter Matthias' identity becomes more clear. He was inspired by all the older folks I have ever know that maintained their child-like sense of adventure and twinkle in their eye. My Great Aunt Winnie, my Mother's Mother's sister, was one of those. She never failed to small and chuckle every time I saw her.

The pupper theatre is kind of a no-brainer for those who know me, one of my first loves in life is the stage. I spent nearly two decades as a proffessional theatre director and acting coach. Puppets have fascinated me since about the fifth grade, when it was revealed that a girl in our class, whose father was a Methodist minister, also produced TV show in a nearby town, with puppets. He came and shared his construction techniques and we all built our own puppets and put on a show, based on a classic fairy tale. My group got the Three Billy Goats Gruff, and I made a styrofoam head  puppet named Mr. Beaver, who narrated the story.

This chapter got redivided as I was polishing this for publication here. I'm not sure if I got the break in the right place, let me know what you think.

SO, is it the right key? What will happen when they turn the fountain on and make a wish, assuming it still works. What do YOU think you would wish for, if you were Roger. Leave a comment and let me know!

The Wishmonger, Chapter 8 Bird Watching

CHAPTER 8

BIRD WATCHING

When Joey heard the story of his encounter with the man in black, he whistled, “Whoa, that is tough.”

The two boys sat beneath a tree on the town hall green watching the Sunday afternoon strollers pass by.

“That’s not all, I think I was followed,” Roger said, pointing. Sitting on a trolley stop bench, half hidden by a newspaper was a young man. He was dressed in a cheap thriftstore imitation of the man in black, right down to the cheesy shades.

“Who is he kidding? Watch this!” And before Roger could respond Joey was in his chair and halfway to the stranger. Those wheelchair Olympics really paid off. The cheap suit looked panicked and hid behind his newspaper. Joey rolled right up to him and pulled the paper down, “What are you staring at? Never seen a guy in a wheelchair before? Take those stupid glasses off when I’m talking to you! I can’t see your eyes.”

Roger nearly laughed out loud when the would be secret agent pulled the glasses off, “I’m sorry,” He stammered, “Some guy said he’d pay me twenty bucks to put on the suit and follow that kid -he pointed at Roger- And tell him where he went.”

Joey had to bite his lip to keep from laughing, “Guy in a big black limo?” the spy nodded, “next time, make him pay you double. And ask him for a new suit. It’s embarrassing being followed around town by a Goodwill reject. Now get out of here, and don’t let me catch you again!”

The boys laughed until their sides hurt watching their stalker streaking down main-street like a scared rabbit.

Roger checked his watch. It was nearing two o’clock when the library would open for the weekly meeting of the local Audubon society. Joey had suggested they walk in with the other bird watchers and wait for a chance to sneak upstairs to begin their search.

Roger’s father had looked at them funny when they asked to borrow his ‘field guide to North American songbirds’ but it wasn’t hard to convince him. He was pretty shook up over last night, not to mention this morning. So, Roger, guidebook in hand, and Joey with his father’s field glasses slung around his neck made their way into the library with their fellow ornithology enthusiasts.

The addition of two new bird watchers created a bigger stir than either boy had counted on and they wondered if they would have an opportunity to make their escape. As exciting as fresh blood was, it could not compete with a guest lecture by the author of ‘Afield with the Finches of Finland’ and, the boys managed to sneak out the back door of the meeting hall.

They made their way to the freight elevator and traveled to the upper floor. As Roger pulled back the grate for Joey to roll out he heard his friend whisper, “seek”.

There above a row of shelves labeled, ‘Law’ was this inscription, “Seek justice, encourage the oppressed, Defend the cause of the fatherless, plead the case of the widow.”

Roger took this as a good sign. Having learned their lesson the day before he made sure to turn the elevator key to the off position. For added security he pulled it out and dropped it into his pocket. The boys headed for the central room, the Hall of Records. In contrast to the darkness of the basement the hall of records turned out to be a cozy, well-lit room with large windows at either end and large oak tables running down the center. The walls on either side were lined with shelves from floor to ceiling. These were full to overflowing with hundreds of the same paper cartons they had found in the basement.

Roger and Joey looked at each other, where should they start? Joey pointed out that each box had a label card in a metal frame on its end. The labels were hand lettered with legends like, ‘park fund donations’, ‘town council minutes’, and other misc. business.

After a few minutes of random searching they were able to determine that the boxes were in order by date. The earliest cartons dated to the late eighteen hundreds and the most recent seemed to be the nineteen fifties. Roger assumed the more recent records must be on microfilm or computer.

“Now what?” Roger sat at one of the tables.

“I guess we need to know more about what we’re looking for,” Joey answered.

Roger had an idea. He walked back to the room with the law books in it and reread the inscription, “Seek justice, encourage the oppressed…maybe a court record of some kind?”

Joey was still in the hall of records, “Does it say anything about orphans?” he hollered.

Roger came back into the room, “Yeah, something about the ‘Fatherless’, why?”

Joey pointed to a shelf about halfway up where more than a dozen boxes marked, “Celia Pine Home for

Orphans” rested. Roger found a ladder and climbed up, taking down the first box.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Joey asked.

“ If you mean it’s quite a coincidence my name is Pine, yeah. But that’s nothing compared to the fact that my grandmother’s name was Celia.” He pulled the first folder out of the box and handed it to Joey, taking the second one for his self.

Joey spread the documents out on the table and examined each one carefully, “This might be something. It’s the original permit granting the right to construct, ‘ An home for the maintenance and rearing of the orphan children of Wishful and surrounding areas.”

Roger riffled through his folder pausing to examine documents that caught his eye, “These are mostly adoption records. Wow! They date back almost to world war one. There sure were a lot of baby Pines back then. We must have been a big family.”

“When do you suppose the fountain was closed?” Joey asked.

“I don’t think anybody knows.” Roger replaced the folders in the box and returned them to the shelf. He reached for the second box.

“Wait, what if we’re looking for something about someone we know?” Joey thought aloud, “Maybe you should check the newer stuff?”

Roger climbed down off the ladder and moved it to the end of the stack. From the trails in the dust Roger could see that the last box in the row had been moved recently. He took it down and carried it to the table. He grabbed the first folder and pulled it out of the box. Something pink fell out of it and fluttered to the table. It was a post it. Roger turned the sticky note over and read the scribbled message aloud, “Thought you might find this interesting, Matthias.” Roger opened the folder. The first page was a yellowed document with an official seal in the lower right corner. The top read, “Certificate of Record, Live Birth”. The second line stopped Roger cold, “Baby boy, James Madison Wish, born to Eli and Carrol Wish”.

“My father’s middle name is Madison,” Roger gulped and turned to the second page. He scanned to the second line, “Baby boy, Benedict Arnold Wish.”

“Dude! Isn’t your uncle’s name Benedict?” Joey's eyes bulged as he searched the page for further clues.

Before Roger could answer they heard footsteps on the stairs. The two boys flew to the elevator. Roger turned the key and pushed the button for the ground floor.

The Audubon society was just leaving and Joey and Roger stepped into the greeting line to thank the author for her speech. The assistant librarian came rushing up out of breath. She looked like she wanted to say something but instead she glared coldly at the boys and walked on by.

Narrow escapes were becoming a habit. A habit they agreed would not last forever. If they were not more careful they were going to get caught.

Roger’s mother met him at the back door, “I’m glad your home. Your father is still not feeling well. Would you empty the trunk of his car for me please? I need to deliver some things to the Salvation Army in the morning. It’s all sitting on the workbench, would you put it in the trunk, please?”

Roger took the keys and opened the trunk. He pulled the cooler out and emptied the trash. He slid the now empty cooler under the workbench where his father always kept it. He grabbed the two folding camp chairs and the blanket and closed the trunk. He tossed the blanket on top of the washing machine and set the chairs beside the workbench. He didn’t have the energy to get the stepladder and climb up to the shelf.

Then he saw the box. Roger shook like a leaf as he stood looking at the cardboard carton he had seen the day before. He grabbed the cardboard carton and pulled it to the front of the bench. What should he do? His mother was giving it away anyhow, surely she wouldn’t mind?

Roger ran into the house and grabbed the phone, dialing Joey's number before the dial tone even sounded. With everything else that had happened he didn't dare to open the box alone, “Joey? Come now, meet me in my garage.” Roger let his friend in and they sat staring at the unopened carton.

“Well, it’s not likely to be a bomb, is it? So, we just have to open it,” Joey said bravely.

Roger was sweating, “What do you think is in it?” There was no indication as to contents on the outside.

“Whatever it is my mother is prepared to donate it to the Salvation Army,” Roger rubbed his palms together nervously.

Joey quickly grabbed the carton, set it in his lap and pulled off the lid. Roger leaned over his shoulder for a better look. There, nestled in newspaper lay a small mahogany box. Roger gently lifted it out and examined it. It was about the size of a cigarbox with a yellow rosette inlay on its lid. In the center of the rosette a decorative “W” was surrounded by flowering vines. Roger tried the lid. The box was securely fastened by a silver lock with a skeleton keyhole.

“Wheeew” Joey whistled, “Are you thinking what I'm thinking?”

Roger looked around nervously, even though they were alone in the garage both boys felt exposed. “We better open this where no one can see.”

Roger quickly placed the remaining charity donations in the trunk, filled the carton with some old magazines they found beside the work bench, added it to the stash in the trunk, and left the garage for the sanctuary of Roger’s room. Roger laid the box on his desk and opened the drawer. He took out the small silver key and held it for a second. It slid into the lock with a click and turned smoothly. Roger felt like the bomb guy in a movie, red wire or blue? He opened the lid carefully. There was no explosion, no puff of smoke. Joey looked positively disappointed. Roger opened the lid all the way and pulled back the tissue that wrapped whatever was in the box.

Inside the tissue lay a small leather journal with gold embossed lettering. It spelled out a man’s name. The founder of Wishful, Jeremish Wish!

With trembling hands Roger gently picked up the book. Underneath it, the bottom of the box was lined in black velvet, and there in a neat little depression lay a golden key! In his excitement Roger almost dropped the book, then laid it carefully on the desk. He picked up the key which hung on a crimson silk ribbon. The tip of the key was a square box about a half an inch across.

“For the fountain?” Joey whispered. Roger could do nothing but nod.

Joey shook with excitement, “What’re we going to do with it?”

“I think this town has gone wishless long enough, don’t

you?” Roger asked.

__________________________________________________________________________________

Forgot the commentary yesterday, so double duty today. The Festival of wishes is made up of various memories of small town celebrations I attended as a child, particularly the 4th of July, which has always been a favorite holiday of mine. The scary uncle was partially inspired by my Mother's brother Jerry, who is no way a scary man. Although he does look a little like Charles Darwin as he ages, no, it was a single incident the spurred the connection. When I was young, maybe five or six, we visited my uncle and he had in his basement a large, dark wood trunk, which he insisted had belonged to a pirate and was filled with horrible creatures that would eat little boys who entered the basement unaccompanied. Weak connection I know, but there it is.

I actually had a bird book when I was younger, an Audubon field guide to be precise and I would hike a mile or so from home with a sack lunch and sit in a wooded area and try to find as many different species as I could. My kids have the book now, with check marks near the one's I found.

Journals have always had a fascination for me. My dad was a big fan of history, still is I guess, and would read us journals of old mountain men and explorer's. One in particular was the journal of a pioneer namer Isaac P Rose called "Four Years in the Rockies" in it he tells of fighting bears and tracking Indians and all manner of other adventures, mostly true, although I am sure somewhat embellished for posterity. It was undoubtedly the inspiration for Jeremish Wish's journal. Jeremish, by the way was originall a typo of Jeremiah, but I liked it, so it stuck. Hope you are enjoying the story so far, come back soon for more!

The Wishmonger Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7 THE MAN IN BLACK REVEALED

Roger ran to the door of the elevator. He nearly tipped over one of the heavy book carts dragging it out of the way. He flipped the power on and pushed the basement button, the old machine rattled and thumped its way down. The gate flew up with a bang and dust billowed from it as Roger bolted out of the elevator car.

“It's about time,” Joey said, looking up from a book he had been calmly reading.

Roger smiled, “You won't believe what just happened to me while you were sitting down here reading.”

The boys rode up, Roger recounting his adventures while Joey listened, wide eyed. The front door refused to open, but it only took a minute to find a modern fire escape door with a push bar that led to a ramp and the boys were out in the open air.

From their vantage point near the steps of the bandstand gazebo they watched the library for the rest of the afternoon, looking for some sign of a fleeing Matthias, none came. After their harrowing moments in the library basement, Joey and Roger were both certain they would never feel the same about a trip to the library again.

Being none the worse for wear the two were now doubly determined to solve the mystery before them. What was the purpose of the skeleton key, and where would they find the key to the fountain? Undoubtedly, as Matthias had said, it would be in the last place they looked.

Roger was now convinced that a part of the answer lay in the hall of records on the top floor of the library. Why else would Matthias be headed there after hours? And what about the voice? That was one part of this riddle that neither of the boys was eager to investigate.

After much discussion they decided that the answer lay in solving Matthias’ riddle. They would assume for now that they had already asked, and received the small silver skeleton key. Now, they reasoned their next step would be to seek out the lock that it opened. Having no other leads than the idea of searching the hall of records, and since the library was closed for the day, Roger suggested an expedition to the fountain. It was just now four o’clock and both boys were expected at Roger’s house for dinner at six, so they should have plenty of time.

They hitched Joey’s chair to Roger’s bike and set off. After making certain they were not being observed, Roger turned off into the drive that lead to the park. Joey’s chair fit neatly through the door in the gate, which was a bit of a concern, and in less than a quarter hour they found themselves in the fountain gazebo.

Joey spent several speechless minutes just letting the reality sink in. Although he had complete faith in his friend this was truly the kind of thing you had to see for yourself. The boys were enjoying the moment so much they almost didn’t hear the voices.

As usual it was Joey that heard them first, “Sshh! Listen! I hear voices!”

Roger froze, he heard them too. If someone was coming he knew they couldn’t be seen here. He ran quietly back toward the Gazebo trail. From his vantage point behind the trunk of a huge oak tree Roger had a clear view of the gate. Parked in the middle of the drive, its brilliant chrome grill gleaming like a monstrous set of teeth was a huge, jet-black limousine. Two men stood at the gate, fumbling with the lock.

“Are you sure that’s the key?” The first one, dressed all in black, with his face wrapped in a black scarf, wore dark glasses. Roger thought he recognized the voice from the library.

The second man was nervous, “Yes, I’m sure! I have used it before, you know!”

The first one was definitely in charge, “Hurry up, you fool! I can not afford to be seen here!”

The key slid into the lock and the second man wrestled the chain off the gate, “You? Nobody here knows you. What about me?” There was something familiar about the second man too! It was Mayor Wish, Roger was certain of it!

The two men pushed the gates open and climbed into the back of the car. Roger wondered why they hadn’t made their chauffeur open the gate. They were headed to the fountain, that much was certain. He and Joey would only have seconds to hide the bike and find cover. Roger ran for all he was worth.

When he entered the gazebo he knew something was wrong! Where was Joey, where was his bike?

“Psst! Hey! Up here!” Roger looked up in amazement, there was Joey safely nestled in the arms of a giant Oak.

Roger ran to the tree, “How’d you do it?”

“I’ll explain later, give me your hand,” Joey whispered.

Roger reached up and Joey hauled him up into the branches of the giant tree, “What happened to your chair, and my bike?”

Joey threw a thumb over his shoulder, “I improvised”.

Roger looked to where his friend had pointed. He hadn’t realized it, but the fountain set on the crest of a steep hill. Joey had managed to roll both the bike and his chair down it. They lay tangled in a bush, dusty but unhurt. He didn’t even ask how he’d gotten into the tree. Due to propelling himself in a wheelchair Joey had the most developed arms of any thirteen year old Roger had ever seen. Combine that with a grip that could practically crush a cue ball, and you get the idea.

The boys watched in silence as the limousine pulled to a stop at the foot of the fountain path. Two men got out and walked quickly up to the fountain.

“They’ve been here already!” Mayor Wish said.

“I told you! I knew this would happen. We should have stopped him permanently years ago!” The man in black snarled, “You didn’t have the guts years ago! Now that our plan is in place…” he cursed. Roger was sure now, this was the voice from the library.

“As long as they don’t find that key…”said the mayor.

“ Yes, as long as,” said the man in black, “By the way, where is that key?”

“I told you it’s somewhere safe!” the mayor was practically cowering.

“What you mean is you don’t know. I want you to spend

every available moment on it, do you understand? I want that key found yesterday.” The man in black removed his dark glasses! He was blind! Just like the dragon in Roger’s dream. No wonder he couldn’t find Matthias in the library. “What’s over there?” he pointed straight to where the boys lay hidden!

“Just an old oak tree.” the mayor grew more nervous by the second.

“Just a tree, you’re sure? I could swear we were being watched!” the boys shuddered and hugged the trunk closer.

“No, there’s no one there. Just a tree like I told you. We’d better go. I’m due to hand out awards at the festival picnic. If I’m late there could be questions.” The mayor walked to the limousine and stood glancing fearfully around while the man in black surveyed the hillside with his blind although, Roger thought, far from unseeing eyes.

Finally he seemed satisfied and walked back to the car. The mayor opened and held the door for him. They both climbed in and the limousine sped down the hill, stopping so the mayor could hop out to close and lock the gate. The mayor turned nervously and looked back up the hill to their hiding place. Both boys gulped! Then he climbed in and the limousine roared away.

“Whoah! What was that all about?” Joey turned to Roger who sat speechlessly watching the speeding limousine.

“I’m not sure but it seems like our friend in black has every intention of beating us to that key.” Roger let himself down from his perch and scrambled down the hill to retrieve the bike and wheelchair.

When Roger and Joey wheeled into the driveway of Roger’s house his father was packing the picnic things into the trunk of his car, “There you are. We were just about to leave without you,” he joked.

Joey laughed, “What, and eat all that chicken by yourself?”

“Jeanie was going to help, of course,” Roger was glad to hear his Dad in such a great mood, “Roger, grab that other camp chair out of the garage. It’s on the top shelf.”

Roger climbed the stepladder and tugged the nylon, folding chair off the shelf. Behind it Roger saw the corner of a carton. It was exactly like the pressboard cartons in the library basement. Roger had just spent the better part of two days filling a rental truck with every earthly possession the Pine family owned, and he was certain this had not been among them.

“Hey, what’s the hold up with that chair?” James Pine stood smiling, with hands on hips, watching Roger

Roger looked at the carton wistfully. It would have to wait. Besides, there had to be millions of boxes like that, it was probably left here by the previous owners. He tossed the chair in the trunk, and helped his Dad fit Joey’s chair between the picnic basket and the cooler.

“Boy that salesman was right when he sold me on the big trunk. I never thought I’d need all this space, but look at that.” He ruffled Roger’s hair and shut the trunk.

Picnic blankets decorated the library lawn like a giant patchwork quilt. Roger and Joey helped carry the picnic things to a spot near Joey’s parents and then hurried off to enjoy the festival. The last night of the festival of wishes was like New Years and the fourth of July rolled into one. The boys bought sparklers, noisemakers, and party hats. A big band played in the bandstand. Clowns strolled through the crowd making balloon animals, and a stilt walker juggled flaming batons, it was great!

At eight o’clock, on the dot, the band stopped. The stilt-walker blew out his batons and the clowns tied off their last balloons. The crowd began to migrate toward the bandstand where a podium had been erected for the annual mayor’s address. Roger and Joey found their parents. Both boys were curious to hear what the mayor would have to say. They wondered if the events of the afternoon would color the evening.

At precisely five after eight a busy little man with a large
red bowtie took the stage. He walked excitedly to the microphone, “My name is Herbert McEldrew. As many of you know it has been my honor to serve as deputy mayor of our fine town for more than twenty years.” A few hoots and a ‘way to go Herb’ greeted this introduction.

“Thank you, thank you very much. I hope that you all have enjoyed our seventy-fifth annual Festival of Wishes! Now, without further adieu, it is my pleasure to introduce to you the man that has made this wonderful evening a reality. In truth, without his generous family, our little burg would not exist. Please welcome our Mayor, Mr. Ishmael Wish!”

There was a flurry of applause as Mayor Ishmael Wish walked to the microphone, “Thank you! Thank you Herb for those kind words, and thank you citizens of Wishful for your warm welcome. As Herb so graciously mentioned it has been my honor to follow in the footsteps of my father, grandfather, and great grandfather as mayor of Wishful. On this the seventy-fifth anniversary of the founding of wishful it is my privilege to bring to the microphone the lady of the evening, the queen of this fair festival, Miss Wish, Lacy Gillespie!”

A highschool girl mounted the steps of the bandstand. She wore a red evening gown and a gilt banner that proclaimed her as ‘Miss Wish’.

“As is our custom on this occasion I will now ask Miss Wish to make the ceremonial wish for continued prosperity and health in the coming year. Following that she will be giving her rendition of “When You Wish Upon a Star,” the mayor proclaimed, dropping a golden coin into her hand.

The crowd collectively held their breath as Lacy flipped the coin in a perfect arc toward the water of the “official fountain of wishes” which was conveniently placed on the bed of a trailer parked next to the bandstand.

“Joey, look!” Roger hissed. His attention had been drawn

to the steps of the library. The boys watched as a dark shadow bolted down the stair, flashed across the lawn weaving through the crowd toward the bandstand. Amazingly it seemed as if the two boys were the only ones to see the little old man until he reached the steps of the bandstand, “that’s Matthias.”

By now the whole crowd was aware of the storyteller as he leaped between the girl and the fountain. Just as the coin reached the peak of its travel, his grizzled hand shot out and snatched the golden disk, then, he was gone!

The crowd sat in stunned silence. The mayor appeared to be undergoing core meltdown. The only person that seemed unfazed was the man in dark glasses that now stood at the microphone.

It was the man in black! Without the black scarf Roger thought the man looked vaguely familiar, “Citizens of Wishful, listen to me.” The crowd was coming alive. Scattered murmurs were hushed by the man’s next statement, “Your town is in grave danger! The man you just witnessed stealing your wish is a despicable character. He and his cohorts are plotting a diabolical scheme to turn the hearts and minds of every citizen of this town away from the steady course that has guided you for the past fifty years. He and others like him do not believe like you and I. They will stop at nothing to destroy your town, your livelihood, your very way of life. They are determined to stop progress in its tracks. I am here to see that that does not happen,” with that the man took a golden coin from his pocket and without so much as a glimmer of hesitation flipped it directly into the fountain.

He left the bandstand followed by the mayor and two other men in dark suits. The crowd’s eyes followed the man as he and his entourage swept out of the square and leapt into a black limousine, speeding off in the direction of the Fountain Park.

Suddenly Roger knew what it was that was familiar. He looked to his left where James Pine sat with his face buried on his mother’s shoulder. Minus the dark glasses, the man in black looked exactly like his father!

The Pine family rode home in silence. Joey had opted to ride home with his parents. Roger’s mother caught his eye in the rearview mirror. She was driving, his father was too upset, “So, now you know,” she said.

But he didn’t, he didn’t know anything and something told him that now was definitely not the time to ask. The next morning was Sunday and Roger and his mother went to Church by themselves for the first time in recent memory. His father was still soundly asleep thanks to two extra-strength sleeping pills.

Roger and Joey sat together on the outside aisle talking quietly, “So, your Dad’s pretty wigged out, huh?”

“You could say that, wouldn’t you be?” Roger asked.

“Yeah, I guess so. So the man in black is your uncle, huh?” Joey’s eyes were as big as dinner plates.

Roger squirmed uncomfortably, “That’s about all I could get out of my Mom. She wouldn’t even tell me that much until after my Dad fell asleep. I get the impression that no one has seen him for a long time.”

Joey scratched his ear absently, “I wonder why?”

“Me too,” Roger thought to himself.

When Roger and his mother got home the long black

limousine was parked outside their house. Roger’s heart felt like it would explode! His head was tight and he could hardly breathe. The man in black was sitting in his living room!

“Well, hello Benedict. Roger this is your father’s brother, Benedict Pine.” Roger’s mother said all of this with icy politeness.

“Hello, Roger, you can call me uncle Ben,” the man in black held out his hand.

Roger felt his mother’s hand on his shoulder gently, pushing him toward the man in black. He looked up at her, pleading.

She smiled at him apologetically, “Shake hands with

your uncle, Roger.”

The man’s hand felt like ice. “Look at this, almost a man and never met your uncle Ben. That seems a shame.”

Actually, Roger couldn’t think of anything that was less of a shame, “Where’s my Dad?” he asked.

“ I don’t know. The door was unlocked so I let myself in. I thought he was at Church with you.” The man said.

Shuffling footsteps announced James’ late arrival to the family reunion, taking place in his living room, “You,” he said quietly, “Are not welcome here. You need to leave.”

Benedict Pine didn’t scare easily, “I just came to meet Roger.”

“ You’ve seen him. Now you need to leave.” Roger knew that his father had chosen that word carefully, -seen-, if it was intended to hurt it had no visible effect on the man.

“You should be careful who you try to intimidate. I just came to “see” my nephew. Roger, I wondered if I might talk to you alone?” Benedict smiled, sending shivers down Roger's spine.

Roger swallowed, hard, “Alright, but then you go, deal?”

Benedict Pine extended his hand, “Deal.”

Roger led the blind man out of the house without shaking

his hand. They stopped on the driveway, “I came to warn you. You and your little friend don’t know what you’re messing with. You have no idea the power that fountain can wield.” Benedict spoke calmly.

“You sound scared,” roger said. The next thing he knew his feet dangled in air and his uncle’s face was so close he could feel his stubble.

The man in black, who looked like his father, whispered in his ear, “If you think I care whose kid you are, you’re wrong. Now, you tell that old meddler to stay out of my way, that means away from the fountain too, do you understand?”

Roger rubbed his raw neck as he watched the limousine
drive away. His father sat at the table drinking a cup of coffee. “A twin brother? What else don’t I know?” the boy demanded.

James stood up and began to pace. He didn’t think he could do this sitting down. “Yes, ironically enough I have an evil twin. Now you know my deep dark secret, happy?”

“But that doesn’t explain anything! Who is he? What is he doing here? And why were you keeping him a secret?” a million other questions burst in Roger’s mind but they would have to wait.

Roger’s father let out a deep sigh, “He is my brother, the owner of Wishful first bank and trust and all around power broker. I’m not really sure why he’s stayed here all these years, but he’s never up to any good. And last but not least, I’m keeping him a secret for personal reasons, satisfied?”

“I guess I’ll have to be,” Roger fumed.