the more he felt exposed. It felt as if there were millions of tiny eyes watching him clambering clumsily up the mountainside.
Even the mountain seemed to be against Aidan. Again and again, Aidan reached the edge of what he thought was a ridge he could get over and start climbing down, only to realize he still had to climb higher.
After what seemed like hours of back-and-forth climbing, Aidan made an all-out sprint toward a distant notch on the left peak. But it turned out to be just a plateau. And even worse, it looked like there was no way to continue up from there. The mountain rose up before him in a sheer face of stone—as if to say: “GO AWAY! IT’S NOT SAFE HERE!”
Aidan slumped down, his back to the mountain. The headache of hunger and fatigue continued its dull thudding while Aidan considered his options. He could either climb back down a bit to search for another way up, or he could edge along a narrow ridge looking for a spot more level to climb. Aidan opened the scroll once again—this time to the page after the map—but it was still blank. He rolled up the scroll, tied it, and let it roll off his hand to lie at his feet.
The moment he sat down, the sweat he had generated climbing turned icy, and Aidan shivered.
What’ll I do? he thought, looking up as the sun sank behind the clouds in the distance. Here he was, high above the trees on the edge of a dreary mountain in a world no one knew existed.
He wondered what his parents would do when they came home and found him gone. What could Grampin say to them?
“Dad, have you seen Aidan?” Mr. Thomas would ask.
“Well, yes, actually,” Grampin would reply. “Y’see, he believed in The Story , entered The Door Within, and ended up in The Realm.”
Aidan laughed through chattering teeth. They wouldn’t believe him if he told the truth. Perhaps, Aidan thought, I could bring home some proof—to show them once and for all that it is all real!
Aidan’s eyes grew wide as it occurred to him that the scrolls had helped him get into this realm, but they never mentioned getting back out.
It wasn’t at all like some of the stories Aidan had read. Stories where kids had run away without a care to strange new worlds. Stories where the characters never worried about food or where to go to the bathroom! Aidan trembled and hugged himself, for he was cold, afraid, achy, and hungry.
As the deep purple of night began to creep across the sky, Aidan succumbed to sleep. The temperature on the mountainside dropped even more during the night, so Aidan curled up, tucking the scroll under his arm like his old down pillow, and huddled close to the face of the mountain. Aidan’s eyes raced beneath his eyelids while he dreamed. Visions of his basement back in Colorado Springs paraded through his mind. He was there again, staring at the alcove beneath the basement stairs, listening to the strange scraping sound he had heard before the clay pots appeared.
But something in the dream wasn’t right. The scraping sound was too loud—out of place in the hazy quiet of his dream. Aidan’s mind jolted to consciousness.
Opening only one eye, Aidan scanned the dark ledge lit only by the cloud-veiled light of the moon. There was movement in the corner of the ledge near his feet. A fuzzy basketball-sized black lump was scratching at the ground. Aidan sat there motionless, unsure of what to do, until the creature rose up on its hind legs and opened two pale yellow eyes.
“Aaah!” Aidan yelped, leaping to his feet and pressing his back against the wall behind him.
He looked again for the eyes, but they were gone. To be sure, Aidan waited a few minutes and then ventured toward the corner of the ledge. The creature was gone.
At that moment, the moon escaped the clouds briefly and rained pale light upon the ledge. Aidan looked more closely and saw . . .
“Fruit!” Aidan screamed aloud. Not caring where it had come from, he grabbed one of the four plump purple fruit and bit
Even the mountain seemed to be against Aidan. Again and again, Aidan reached the edge of what he thought was a ridge he could get over and start climbing down, only to realize he still had to climb higher.
After what seemed like hours of back-and-forth climbing, Aidan made an all-out sprint toward a distant notch on the left peak. But it turned out to be just a plateau. And even worse, it looked like there was no way to continue up from there. The mountain rose up before him in a sheer face of stone—as if to say: “GO AWAY! IT’S NOT SAFE HERE!”
Aidan slumped down, his back to the mountain. The headache of hunger and fatigue continued its dull thudding while Aidan considered his options. He could either climb back down a bit to search for another way up, or he could edge along a narrow ridge looking for a spot more level to climb. Aidan opened the scroll once again—this time to the page after the map—but it was still blank. He rolled up the scroll, tied it, and let it roll off his hand to lie at his feet.
The moment he sat down, the sweat he had generated climbing turned icy, and Aidan shivered.
What’ll I do? he thought, looking up as the sun sank behind the clouds in the distance. Here he was, high above the trees on the edge of a dreary mountain in a world no one knew existed.
He wondered what his parents would do when they came home and found him gone. What could Grampin say to them?
“Dad, have you seen Aidan?” Mr. Thomas would ask.
“Well, yes, actually,” Grampin would reply. “Y’see, he believed in The Story , entered The Door Within, and ended up in The Realm.”
Aidan laughed through chattering teeth. They wouldn’t believe him if he told the truth. Perhaps, Aidan thought, I could bring home some proof—to show them once and for all that it is all real!
Aidan’s eyes grew wide as it occurred to him that the scrolls had helped him get into this realm, but they never mentioned getting back out.
It wasn’t at all like some of the stories Aidan had read. Stories where kids had run away without a care to strange new worlds. Stories where the characters never worried about food or where to go to the bathroom! Aidan trembled and hugged himself, for he was cold, afraid, achy, and hungry.
As the deep purple of night began to creep across the sky, Aidan succumbed to sleep. The temperature on the mountainside dropped even more during the night, so Aidan curled up, tucking the scroll under his arm like his old down pillow, and huddled close to the face of the mountain. Aidan’s eyes raced beneath his eyelids while he dreamed. Visions of his basement back in Colorado Springs paraded through his mind. He was there again, staring at the alcove beneath the basement stairs, listening to the strange scraping sound he had heard before the clay pots appeared.
But something in the dream wasn’t right. The scraping sound was too loud—out of place in the hazy quiet of his dream. Aidan’s mind jolted to consciousness.
Opening only one eye, Aidan scanned the dark ledge lit only by the cloud-veiled light of the moon. There was movement in the corner of the ledge near his feet. A fuzzy basketball-sized black lump was scratching at the ground. Aidan sat there motionless, unsure of what to do, until the creature rose up on its hind legs and opened two pale yellow eyes.
“Aaah!” Aidan yelped, leaping to his feet and pressing his back against the wall behind him.
He looked again for the eyes, but they were gone. To be sure, Aidan waited a few minutes and then ventured toward the corner of the ledge. The creature was gone.
At that moment, the moon escaped the clouds briefly and rained pale light upon the ledge. Aidan looked more closely and saw . . .
“Fruit!” Aidan screamed aloud. Not caring where it had come from, he grabbed one of the four plump purple fruit and bit
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