The Fantastic Adventures of James Grey [Part 1]

Part 1 of a long series I've been working on for quite sometime. Parts 1-10 can be found at http://myholouniverse.com, and parts are added daily! Enjoy!

"Life out of the ordinary is no life at all."


This was the mantra of Mr. Grey, an ordinary man living in an ordinary house, in an ordinary town in Indiana. He wanted nothing more than to live out his ordinary life without having ever broken routine.


Mr. Grey was a librarian, a perfect job for a man in such desperate need of order. Every day, he would wake up at 6:00 a.m on the dot, have two pieces of toast and exactly 16 oz of Black coffee, using sugar and cream was only a way to mask the taste of bad coffee, he thought. After finishing his coffee, Mr. Grey would prepare an omelet, which he would leave covered on the dining room table for his 14-year-old son, James. He would then drive the 35 minutes to the library, arriving promptly at 7:10 am where he would spend his day organizing and cataloging countless books, to return home, prepare dinner and sleep. As you can see, Mr. Grey did not spend a great deal of time with his son.


James was very much like his mother, a free spirit. Longing for adventure and excitement, while routine had been forced into him for years, his desire for change and wonder grew each and every day. While his father was the equivalent of a stick in the mud, he had not always been this way. He was once free until he met the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on, his wife, and James’ mother, Allison.


Allison Whitney, before becoming Mrs. Grey, was an extraordinary woman, from Charnwood England. From the time she was a little girl, her courage, and love of exploring led her on the most outstanding adventures. From the mystery of Mrs. Rosewood's pie thief to Charnwood's own treasure cove. However, it wasn't until she traveled to Tibet that she began the greatest adventure of her life. She had been searching for German,[This will be important later on in the story] a secret collection of Buddhist scriptures said to contain ultimate knowledge and the hidden secrets of our world. It was while she was searching the mountains that she came across John before he was known as Mr. Grey, no two souls ever matched so perfectly.


Until James was born, Allison and John traveled the world, searching for lost treasures, quenching their thirst to live a fulfilling life filled with wondrous experiences. Blindly walking into danger and mayhem, they lived. Until Allison became pregnant. The Grey’s returned to America and settled in Indiana to await the birth of their own personal treasure, trading in magic and adventure for family life.


On April 1st, Mr. And Mrs. Grey gave birth to their son. When Allison held James for the first time, she could almost hear music, a beautiful melody. She knew that she loved him with all her heart. However, something changed inside of her, a burning need, one that she couldn’t satiate in her ordinary house in the ordinary Indiana town. So one night, not more than a few months after James was born, while her family slept, Allison arose from her bed and gently kissed her husband's forehead and whispered.


“Goodbye, my love.” Silently, she moved through the house, to her sleeping son’s room. She stood over James’ crib and admired her precious son. She caressed his cheek, and he unconsciously rubbed against her touch. She dares not pick him up, in fear that she may wake him.


“My sweet boy. Never be afraid to believe.” She whispered tenderly.  She lingered in the beautiful song that was filling her heart, then slowly stepped out of the room and out of the John and James’ lives. It was that moment that changed Mr. Grey, losing the love of his life with no explanation affected him more than he could ever comprehend. Allison was his entire world, his light in the darkness. So he replaced the emptiness in his heart with routine, and mundane things. Blaming the burning blood and curiosity for mystery and adventure for his wife’s departure, he vowed to remove all surprise and ‘adventure’ from his and his son’s life, to not lose the one thing he has left. It was because of his careful and meticulous ways that James was fascinated by all things peculiar. This love, to the dismay of his father, was fueled by James’ grandmother, on his mother’s side, who had traveled all the way from England to take care of James after his mother left.


The first place Mr. Grey had looked for his wife, was her home in Charnwood. When he called his mother in law, she was just as surprised that her only daughter had fled, like everyone else. Worrying for her grandson's well-being, she locked her home and set out to America, trading her comfortable home in Charnwood for a small guest house just a few feet away from her daughters home.


While Mr. Grey, drilled routine and habit into young James during the day, his grandmother would woo him with stories of romance and adventure by night. Every evening, after Mr. Grey had gone to sleep, James would sneak out of bed and creep down the stairs, to the living room where his grandmother waited by the stone fireplace, seated with a small antique box. Each time she opened the box, she would produce an envelope sealed with wax. An envelope containing a letter from James' mother.  James hung on every word, soaking up the details of his parents' adventures, hardly believing the courageous man described in each tale could possibly be the timid man who slept in the room above him. Until one day, James’ grandmother opened the last letter, the final adventure.


“This is the last one, dear. Are you ready?” She asked gently, holding the letter in her hand. James nodded eagerly, anticipating what greatness lie ahead.


His grandmother slid her finger underneath the Fox seal, and carefully unfolded the letter. She took a moment to read the first few lines, reveling in her daughter's beautiful handwriting.


“Dearest Mother,

I am afraid that I must keep this particular letter short, some rather… amazing news has presented itself.
You are going to be a grandmother! We are in Macao, but we are going to be returning to the United States,
John insists that we postpone our search, and return home to have the baby.”


“That’s me!!!” James exclaimed happily at the thought of being apart of one his mother’s fantastic tales.
His grandmother smiled and nodded; “Yes it is, my dear.” She returned her gaze to the letter, finding her place quickly.


“I insisted we stay, but he is so persistent. You wouldn’t believe his reaction when I told him, he almost fainted. It was actually quite hilarious. Our flight isn’t for another two months. However, we have decided to take our chances with Madam Calypso. It is the fastest way to travel after all!”


James once again interrupted, confused. “Grandmother… Who is Madam Calypso? I don’t remember her being mentioned before.” James had listened so intently, he could name every acquaintance who had happened by his parents, and the name ‘Calypso’ had never been mentioned before, and his mother wrote as if she was very familiar with her. Who was she?


His grandmother paused, giving great thought in how to respond to her grandson’s innocent question.

“I think that's a story for another day. Madam Calypso is somewhat of a legend. Hers is a tale that would need much more time than we have tonight.” She watched her grandson's expression, noticing the disappointed gaze. "If you want to hear of Madam Calypso, I will gladly oblige. However, we will read your Mother's letter another night.”


“But Grandma!” James exclaimed in protest.


His grandmother folded the letter and leaned closer to James, Almost face to face. “Young man, in life the choices you  make always have consequences, and you must decide which path you will take or live your life forever wondering what could have been." She said sternly.


James pondered her words for a moment. It was just a story. Why does he have to choose? He wanted both, but he knew his grandmother would not give any ground.


“Okay grandma, I choose Mom's letter.” He conceded, deciding to save the mystery of Madam Calypso for another night. His grandmother smiled satisfied by her grandson's choice.


"Right, now where were we?" she said unfolding the letter and finding her place, yet again.


“I know you'll disapprove, but I've made my choice." James grinned at his mother's words, almost as if she had used his grandmother's lecture against her.


“Unfortunately I must end here. John is in a hurry, he thinks we are being followed, while I would love to attribute this new found paranoia to the nerves of a new father, I fear he may be right. Ever since we found the scrolls in Tibet a few months ago, I have felt eyes watching us from the shadows. At first, I thought it was only my imagination, but I stole a look into John's journal, and he has noticed the same feeling. I fear if we continue we may be in danger. Perhaps this break will do us some good. I'm sorry mum, I really must go! I will give you a ring when we arrive home.

P.S.

Don't worry, it's impossible for anything to follow us home!

Love,

Your Loving Daughter, Alli”

Emma sighed sadly and folded the letter and placed it back into the envelope. James sat open mouthed glaring at his trickster of a grandmother.


"That's all?!" James gasped angrily, trying to keep his voice from rousing his sleeping father. Emma placed the letter back inside her antique box.


She grinned at her angry young grandson. “No, didn't you hear? Your father has a journal with more adventures.”


“Do you have his Journal?” James asked hoping that the tales had yet to end.


Emma shook her head, “unfortunately I do not. However, I'm sure that if you ask him. He would gladly give it to you."


"But, the letter was so short! You tricked me!" James protested. Emma gasped mockingly.


"I did no such thing!"


James stood refusing to back down, "You did, you said there wasn't enough time to talk about Madam Calypso."


Emma looked down her nose at James who was all but steaming. "And there isn't, I gave you a choice, and you chose the letter. The very last letter." Emma held the antique box out in front of James, "with that, these are now yours."


James' glare transformed to a look of wonder, forgetting his argument for the time being. Reaching out, he carefully accepted the box.


"Really?" he asked questioning the abrupt gift.


"Happy Birthday, James." she responded lovingly.


James looked at the clock above the fireplace. It was Midnight, he had forgotten about his birthday!


James wrapped his tiny arms around Emma's waist, hugging her tightly. "Thank you, Grandma." He said still holding her. Pulling away, James rubbed his fingers around the box, feeling a sense of loss. He had spent countless nights listening to the adventures of his mom, he felt almost as if she was there with him, sharing all of her exploits with him. But that was all over, now she was really gone.


"What's the matter?" Emma probed, reading the emotions written all over James' face.


“Why did she have to leave?” James asked, genuinely believing it was because of him.


"She didn't leave because of you, James." Emma assured him, "Your mother was a very complicated woman...She always wanted to be free, and couldn’t sit still for more than a few minutes. Perhaps, it was the fear of falling into the mundane life. I know she loved you very much, and if she left you here, she had to have had a very good reason.” She continued.


James stood silently, letting her words sink in. Could it be his dad’s fault? He wondered, she hated being bored, maybe she didn’t like the ordinary life he provided. No, the letters kept in his antique box, were proof that his father wasn’t always the dull bulb he is now.


“Do you think she’ll ever come back?” He wondered.


“Nothing has ever been so certain, if there is a breath in your mother’s body, she will come back to you,” Emma said confidently. Her words had the desired effect, James nodded in agreement and wiped the tears forming in his eyes with his pajama sleeve.


“Okay, you’re right. Thanks, grandma.” James squeezed his grandmother again.


“Goodnight my dear,” Emma said, hugging her grandson back. She watched as James released his vice-like hug and bolted off, clutching his antique box tightly. When he was out of sight, she stared into the smoldering fire and wondered if her words would actually come true. She prayed that they would.


James rushed up the stairs and into his room, he jumped under the covers. He reached under his pillow and produced a keychain flashlight to marvel at his gift. He ran his fingers over the intricate forest engraved in the dark wood. The branches on the trees twisted forming a large “C” at the center of the box’s lid. James continued to trace the branches with his fingers, feeling them form letters of a language unknown to him. “Ирээдүйн дотор нуугдсан байна”


James stared at the words for a moment, as if waiting for the translation to come to him. The words felt familiar, but the meaning escaped him like a trying to remember a dream long forgotten. He’ll ask his grandma tomorrow.


Surely she would know.


James opened the lid of the box, revealing his mother's letters, perfectly lining its interior, filling it to the brim. A refreshing smell of lavender and mint permeated from the envelopes as he ran his fingers across their smooth edges. Pulling an envelope from the box released more of the lavender mint scent into the air, intoxicating James with a soothing feeling, urging him to seek the comfort of his pillow. It worked, James replaced the envelope and set the box on his nightstand. I’ll ask dad about the journal tomorrow he decided. He set his alarm for 5:30 am and closed his eyes and drifted off into the most peaceful sleep he had ever known. Asleep he will never know again.


James’ symphony of dreams was shattered by the loud bells from his alarm. Slapping the alarm next to his antique box, James sat up and rubbed his eyes. The light of the moon still shines through his bedroom window, it was still early, and he didn't have much time. Rushing to the bathroom, he quickly brushed his teeth and rushed downstairs. He would make breakfast for his father for once. By the time he had finished the eggs, he could already hear his father's alarm. 6:00 am and he had still yet to make the coffee. James quickly tried to grab the coffee from the jar above the refrigerator. Standing on a chair you just barely reach the jar, with his fingertips just touching the smooth glass, he rose onto his toes for extra length. Before he could catch it, it was too late. James had knocked the jar off the fridge and watched it pass through his hands before smashing to hundreds of little bits on the kitchen floor.


John walked into the kitchen, eyes wide at the spectacle in front of him. On the table sat two plates, each housing two burnt pieces of toast. Two glasses where more juice had found its way onto the table than inside them. Atop the stove, what he assumed were once eggs were now black mush. And standing on a chair surrounded by coffee grounds and broken glass, was his son, gawking like a deer in the headlights. John could feel his blood boil, he had no time for this. His morning routine had been obliterated.


“What are you doing?!” John growled, stepping carefully over the broken glass, to grab the burning pan off the stove.


“Trying to make you breakfast,” James said head hung low.
John dropped the pan in the sink and turned to face his son, who had sunk down in his chair. He wanted to be angry, but couldn't bring himself to remain so. Nimbly walking back to the table, he sat in his chair and grabbed a piece of the blackened toast and took a large hungry bite.


“Mmm, what’s the occasion?” John asked, trying to hide his displeasure in the burnt dry toast.


James looked up bright eyed, “It’s my birthday, and I wanted to talk to you about something.”


John sat frozen in his chair, he had forgotten James’ birthday. Not again, he thought to himself. “Shouldn’t that mean I make you breakfast, Jim?” He asked, hiding his forgetfulness.


“Well, I want something else this year,” James said sheepishly, pulling his chair up to the table.


John checked his watch, 6:08 am, he was behind schedule. “Really, and
what is that?” He asked taking another bite of the toast, washing it down with what had made it into the juice glass.


“I would like, your journal with all the stories about you and mom,” James said, a mouthful of toast.


John immediately began to choke on the toast he had attempted to swallow, coughing hard. Reaching for the empty glass, he rose from the chair and rushed to the sink, slicing his foot on the broken glass in the process. Letting out a growl in pain, he filled his glass and drank the water greedily, washing down the dry toast that had caught in his throat.


“You want what?!” He yelled, angrier at his now bleeding left foot than James.


“Your journal,” James shyly said, aware of the mistake he had made. “Mom talked about it, in one of her letters to grandma.”


“She’s STILL reading you those?!” John was angry now, his routine was ruined, his foot was bleeding, and his throats was sore, and now his mother in law was reading Allison’s adventures notes to his son! “I’m going to have a talk with her later tonight.” He added.


“It’s not her fault, I beg her to read them to me.” James pushed further, “Can I have it or not.”


John turned and glared at his son, “absolutely not.”


“Why not?!” James snapped back, angry that his father would say no.


“Because I said So!” John was done with the interruption of his morning.


“But that’s not fair! It’s my birthday, and you didn’t even remember!” James roared.


“Go to your room!” John commanded.


James stood from his chair and swiftly moved passed the broken glass, gritting his teeth as tears of anger rolled down his face.


John watched as James stormed away and turned his eyes back to the mess. He sighed, as he began to clean the mess his son had left.


By the time, John had finished sweeping the floor, scrubbing the pan, wiping the table, and wrapping his foot it was already 6:45 am. He would absolutely be late. Taking just a moment to check his watch, he felt a moment of regret. Maybe he had been too hard on James. He decided to go talk to him. He made his way up the stairs and down the hall, to James’ door where a freshly drawn sign had been taped. KEEP OUT! Had been scribbled on the sign. He knocked anyway.


“Go Away!” James yelled through the door. John tried to turn the knob, but it was locked from the inside.


“Son, I’m sorry.” John said through the door, “I know that you want my journal right now… but I just can't give it to you…” John waited a moment, hoping for a response. “The stories written on those pages, aren't something you should strive for. Adventure and excitement, are great at the moment but ultimately… it just turns out to be a great disappointment… Like your mother leaving… I know that…” John was interrupted by the door whipping open, James stood eyes full of tears, glaring at him.


“Maybe mom left, because you aren't the person she talked about in her letters! You’re not brave, or adventurous. You're boring and a coward. I wish you would have left instead of mom!” James slammed the door and ran back to his bed.


John stood, staring at the door… he had never felt so low in his life. “Happy Birthday, son… I love you.” No response. Fighting back the tears in his eyes, John checked his watch, 6:54 am. He carefully removed the leather timepiece and hung it on his son’s door knob. John sulked down the stairs and grabbed his coat.


Maybe James is right… maybe Allison left because I'm boring, he thought to himself, getting into his car.


“Okay, I’ll fix it tonight.” He said out loud. Starting the engine, he pulled out of the driveway and started his trek to the library. 45 minutes off schedule.


The traffic didn’t help his case but managed to pull into the Indiana State Library parking lot at 8:10 am. Stepping out of the car, John winced in pain as the cut on his foot was tender under his sudden addition of weight. Placing both feet out of the car, John rose and all to suddenly sensed a familiar feeling. A feeling that he was being watched. His senses on high alert, he searched the empty parking lot for the source of this feeling of dread, but nothing could be found. Just the building and the surrounding trees, which he felt was the location of whatever it was that was watching him. Staring into the tree-line, John waited. For what, he did not know, but he waited all the same.


“What took you so long?” Chris said, suddenly breaking the silence from behind. John almost jumped out of his skin, he didn’t even hear the young intern walking up.


“Sorry, there was some heavy traffic on the way.” John lied, trying to quell his heart beat.


“No worries, Fred told me to tell you to just tack the extra time to the end of your shift.” Chris pat John on the shoulder handed him the keys to the library and walked toward his parked pick-up.


Fred being John’s boss, was usually strict with other employees on tardiness, but with John Grey it was different. He had not been late in the 15 years he had arrived at the library's steps if he was late there was obviously a good reason. John relaxed thankful for Fred’s absent understanding.


“Alright, thanks, Chris. Sorry again!” He yelled as Chris stepped into his truck, he just waved in acknowledgment. Chris worked the night-shift, and spent his days sleeping and taking classes in criminology, he didn’t mind being able to come into work an hour later tonight. John watched him drive away. Leaving him standing alone in the parking lot. Taking one last glance at the treeline, he turned towards the libraries double glass doors, writing off his paranoia as nothing more than a lingering feeling from this morning's disaster.


He had never been so wrong.

Author's Note

Constructive input is always welcome! I've never been a fan of my writing style and I feel my dialogue is always lacking. I can't put my finger on it!

Reviews

[slfisher89]

I like the two asides about John not spending time with his son and the important fact about what Alison was looking for. I love when the narrator breaks the fourth wall. The heavy use of commas; makes me see you writing the story on the typewriter. The explanation of John's past creates deep empathy for him and understanding of his current being.I could picture the grandmother in the living room with the story box. I can also picture the scene of Jame's trying to make breakfast. Its sweet in a "aww he tried" kind of way.The story hooks you in; classic page-turner and I like how it leaves you on a cliff; with the last sentence. bravo (thunderous applause) It begs to be a novel series.

[Haimaii]

The family situation is quite realistic, I must say. The large amount of room between sentences makes it feel less intimidating and refreshing.
Overall a very fun read, I'm off to read the next part.

[Alexander Courtney]

You use just the right amount of dialogue within the story. Too much dialogue takes away from the real detail of the whole story. So don't change the amount of dialogue. I really love your writing and can't wait to read more of this adventure.