Lore of the Underlings: Kid of Lore
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He leaned against the door and listened… Mom and Dad were getting schooled.
“We’re sure gonna catch it,” he sighed.
It got quiet.
Outside the squad car drove away.
Johnny could see the starry sky from where he sat, transfixed on the window. He barely blinked his big blue eyes. He was wider awake than usual. Thinking…
“Gonna need proof I’m not making this up. Or totally nuts. I can just hear ‘em now. Oh sure — a ghost girl in a mud hole. Happens all the time. Ya, right!”
A dark cloud passed across the moon.
Johnny himself had a shadow of doubt.
So he tried again to conjure her up. “Maybe if I look hard enough…”
And to his wonder, a figure appeared.
It rattled the window but it was locked. It knocked three times.
“Who’s there?”
He heard cursing. Yet Johnny was tempted and cracked the window open.
“Hurry up! Let me in!”
He should have known when he spotted the brown eyes and hair.
He yanked Hank into the room.
“Jeez Bro! What the heck took so long?”
Johnny just shrugged. “I was gonna ask you.”
Hank dove onto the bunk behind him, the bottom one. “Sorry how that went down.”
“You better be. Haylee and me got busted while you guys…”
“We watched from the trees. It was wild.” Hank yawned loudly and closed his eyes. “Rust-man always has a plan…”
Suddenly Hank felt his face get pelted. Little green army men. By the platoon.
“Yo, dude! What’s the deal?!”
“Guess we shoulda squealed.” Then Johnny reloaded and threw again.
Hank ducked the incoming. He looked panicked. “But you didn’t, right?”
“It’s not too late.”
“Hey, I’ll make it up to you Johnny. You name it.”
“Just cover for me. I’m going out.”
“Again?”
“There’s something I gotta do…”
Then Johnny jumped from the bedroom window.
Chapter 4 ~ Sleepless Knight
“Back to the scene of the crime,” Johnny muttered. But everything seemed to be different now.
There was nothing up. Nothing going down.
A ghost town.
He biked the road unseen then ditched his trusty Schwinn in the woods.
Though Johnny wasn’t taking chances this time. He’d come armed. Or sort of.
The kid was sporting a broken broomstick that he’d grabbed from his father’s shed. He wielded it like an old-time pike. The way he’d read in Robin Hood.
“Come out, critter… wherever you are…”
Suddenly Johnny heard a screech. It wasn’t far. He had to see.
He trudged toward an opening in the trees. It hit midnight. No flashlight but he didn’t need it. Johnny could make things out by squinting. Something was flapping on the ground.
It sensed him too. It switched to an angry hiss, a suspicious “Who?! Wh-who?!”
“Who, me?” asked Johnny. He stopped in his tracks — but close enough to size it up.
A great horned owl was caught in a rusty trap. To be exact, Rusty’s trap. He’d snared the big bird’s leg. It struggled to fly. Its feathers flew everywhere.
Johnny inched closer and chucked his stick. “Easy there buddy… I’ll get you out.” Then he kneeled and showed his empty hands.
Somehow it understood. It calmed down.
Johnny examined the homemade contraption while talking to keep the owl distracted. “Doesn’t look bad, pal — just half shut.” He tried to pry the jaws apart. “Unh!”
That’s when he felt the little lever and clicked it. Snap! That did the trick.
The owl fell over then picked itself up and took off. Like a missile. It didn’t look back.
Its silhouette reached the hazy moon.
It was gone when Johnny belatedly shouted, “Watch your step down here, Mr. Owl. Rusty’s got traps everywhere!”
With that he stood up, fetched his stick, and looked around. “Let’s find that swamp…”
He hiked ten feet and came to a trailhead. “Where’d you come from?” Johnny asked.
He heard a weird echo. He went on anyway.
Warily.
It had a rocky start.
But then it turned into a cakewalk — a smooth, straight path.
He got there in nothing flat.
Johnny sat still on a log in the bog for a long, long time. A fog rolled in. It was hard to see anything, let alone shadows. Or mystical girls.
“Oh man, what a nightmare.”
He kicked at the stick with his muddy Keds and mumbled. “You daydreamed the whole darn thing, dude. Don’t be a dummy. She’s not coming back.”
And Johnny looked ready to pack it in when…
Whoosh!
Something swooped down, landing next to him.
Hoo! Hoo!
It was his owl friend.
Johnny jumped. “Whoa!” Almost out of his skin. “Didn’t expect to see you again buddy…”
Hooo!
“Sorry, I don’t speak Owl. Sure could use the company though.”
The old gray bird made a cooing sound. But its big yellow eyes looked kind of haunting.
“What’s that saying — birds of a feather? Guess that’s us, bro. Me and you… Think I’ll call you Spooky. That okay? Cuz I get called that too…”
Spooky spun his head around and gave a hoot. Then he just listened.
“Yeah, I’m like a total night owl. Sleeping’s never been my thing. But that’s a problem when you’re people. It’s not cool to prowl around.
“Like right now. I should be in bed. Not out hunting things with you — no offense. But then what? Duck back under the covers? Read all night? I’m tired of that.
“It’s almost worth getting razzed by guys like Rusty after they find you out…
“Yo Johnny Zombie! Wassup, walking-dead kid?! Mummy boy!!!” Johnny bit his lip.
The owl clucked back. He seemed to get him.
Johnny reached out. Spooky let him pet him.
“Fact is, I don’t have an off switch. It’s how I’m wired — don’t ask me why. But I got a hunch that Shadow Girl knows.” He held up three fingers and studied them. “Something.”
Sigh. “If she even…”
A light caught his eye.
Sunrise.
Johnny’d lost track of time — and big-time. Dawn broke his train of thought.
A blood-red dawn. It choked the sun.
“Yikes! Sorry Spooky. Gotta get going. Have to be home before they’re up.”
He snatched his broomstick from the muck and found the sharp end. “Can’t forget.” Then he stuck it in the ground like a sword of lore. His Excalibur. “I’ll be back.”
Spooky hopped up on it, chittering something, a warning, when all of a sudden…
Boom!
A big wingy thing blew by their heads and vanished with a blinding flash.
A thunder crash.
A splash of blue.
“Whoa!”
Spooky flew off. This time for good.
Johnny gawked. “Now that was no owl,” he muttered.
“Guess I’m not crazy after all…”
Johnny dug into the thicket where he’d hid his bike and pulled it out. Or tried to. It was kind of entwined. He fought the vines and won but caught his fingers on their tiny thorns. “Ouch!” He peddled toward the road.
Click, click, click. There were sticks in the spokes. He stopped and dropped the kickstand to clear them.
That’s when he heard a noise from behind. A voice. A funny one.
“Look what I’ve found!”
Johnny spun. A man shook something at him.
“See how the early bird gets the worrrm?”
Then he laughed and flashed a Cheshire Cat grin. Johnny squirmed. “What law did I break this time?
” he mumbled, watching the man approach. He braced himself for the worst.
Till he noticed…
He’d never seen this gent before. And he wasn’t a cop but some kind of stranger. In fact he was dressed like someone from far, far away. At least some other country. He wore a kerchief around his neck, five or six shirts, and a hat with fur ear flaps. The hair that spilled out from under it was a messy yellow.
The fellow looked forty.
“Good morrrning,” he purred with an odd sort of accent. “Have you had brrreakfast yet my friend?” There was a big rusty coffee can in his hand. He shoved it in Johnny’s mug.
Chock full o'Nuts. He took a quick whiff of it… but got a noseful of something else.
“Gross! What is that?”
“Ripe, juicy earthworms.”
“Yuck!”
“Nice plump ones, frrreshly picked…”
He gagged at the thought. He just about puked.
“To catch something tasty und delicious!”
It took him a minute but Johnny caught on.
“Oh! You goin’ fishing? Mister…”
“Rrrosewood. Yesss. You could say that…” He pulled the yellow can back and dug out a worm. “I’m hoping you know a spot.”
“You new here?”
“I… got in last night.”
“Well, Broder’s Pond is where we go. Me and my brother Hank. And sometimes his friends — just watch out for one named Rusty. Anyway, it’s just down the road.” Johnny pointed over his shoulder. “Perch. Some bass. And tons of sunfish… but you don’t want those. Too many bones.”
Mr. Rosewood petted his earthworm. “Catfishing?”
“Eastie caught one last week.”
“Mmm…” Then a thought seemed to dawn on the man. “Won’t you come?”
Johnny looked tempted but not for long. “No thanks, mister. I gotta get home…” Some sun poked through the clouds. “Like now. Or else I’m gonna have heck to pay.”
The man looked disappointed. Hurt. He pouted a little. “That’s a pity. But I can see you’re not rrready to take the bait. I’ll wait to catch you later.”
Johnny got back on his bike. “Ya, sure. Whatever.” He just wanted outta there quick.
“Caw!”
Like an omen, a lone black crow swooped down. And Mr. Rosewood perked up.
“Dark days, sleepless nights are coming…”
But Johnny was already heading away. Not really paying attention. “Sorry?”
“You may be… verrry sorry,” the stranger muttered. Then he laughed out loud.
“Farewell till next time John Cap, my newfound frrriend!”
“B-bye sir. See you around.”
Mr. Rosewood bowed and whispered to his worms, “Oh yesss, we’ll see him again…”
Johnny was way down the street by the time it hit him. “How’d he know my name?”
But he couldn’t worry about that now. He had other fish to fry.
Johnny tried the kitchen door.
Click.
Good luck. It wasn’t locked.
He tiptoed in, Gazette in hand. He’d grabbed it off the porch. In case…
“Who’s there?!”
Uh-oh. He knew that voice.
“You!”
“Auntie Lou. What a… nice surprise.”
It was his mother’s spinster sister. Louise. She gave him the evil eye.
“What’re you up to this time, boy?! Giving folks strokes? Haven’t learned your lesson?”
“I didn’t know you were coming Auntie. Sorry… er… just went to bring this in.”
Johnny tried waving the newspaper at her.
She didn’t buy it. He let it drop.
The big woman fished in her housecoat pocket and pulled out her trademark cat-style glasses.
This called for a fresh inspection.
“I warned Nora. Even when you were in diapers. ‘This one — he’s a devil child. That stare. Those eyes. They never close. I swear they’re cursed...’
“She still won’t admit it.”
Auntie Lou lit up a smoke and glared.
“That’s why it’s up to me to watch you, night stalker. Sleepwalker. Don’t you forget it!”
Johnny just missed her lipstick-stained Winston trying to sidestep toward his room. He muttered, “I got it. I’ll never belong at this snoozefest. Can’t we give it a rest?”
But there’d be no rest for Johnny, the Kid of Lore. A sleepless knight was born. (And that Shadow Girl, Vaam? She was destined to test him — oh, that’s a tale for another time…)
To be continued… Stay tuned for more exciting adventures from the lands of the Lore!
About the Author
John Klobucher is the author of many technical manuals that you’d never want to read. But he is also to blame for Lore of the Underlings and other tales from the world of Lore.
John lives in Framingham, Massachusetts, USA with his wife Diane, son Sam, and daughter Mia.
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Other ebook titles by John Klobucher:
Lore of the Underlings: Episodes 1 & 2 ~ A Door to the Lore
Lore of the Underlings: Episode 3 ~ Fyryx
Lore of the Underlings: Episode 4 ~ The Letting Pen
Lore of the Underlings: Episode 5 ~ Into the Pit
Lore of the Underlings: Episode 6 ~ Meeting Minyon
Lore of the Underlings: Episode 7 ~ Ho-man Holds Court
Lore of the Underlings: Episode 8 ~ The Trial
Print titles by John Klobucher:
The Lore Anthology
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For more on the author and the Lore
including epic poetry, artwork, and podcasts
visit loreoftheunderlings.com
May the Lore be with you!