Dan Poblocki - The Stone Child

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What if the monsters from your favorite horror books were real?
Eddie Fennicks has always been a loner, content to lose himself in a mystery novel by his favorite author, Nathaniel Olmstead. That's why moving to the small town of Gatesweed becomes a dream come true when Eddie discovers that Olmstead lived there before mysteriously disappearing thirteen years ago. Even better, Eddie finds a handwritten, never-before-seen Nathaniel Olmstead book printed in code and befriends Harris, who's as much an Olmsteady as he is. But then the frightening creatures of Olmstead's books begin to show up in real life, and Eddie's dream turns into a nightmare. Eddie, Harris, and their new friend, Maggie, must break Olmstead's code, banish all gremlins and monster lake-dogs from the town of Gatesweed, and solve the mystery of the missing author, all before Eddie's mom finishes writing her own tale of terror and brings to life the scariest creature of all.

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“What the heck!” said Harris, rushing up the steps and pushing past her. She stepped aside. Eddie could see what she’d been trying to hide. Someone had spray-painted black graffiti on the floor of the porch.

The Woman Is Coming for You…

Frances covered the graffiti with an old rug. She told them she would be busy with several book orders upstairs, so they had the place to themselves. Since the bookstore was empty, they organized themselves at a quiet table in the back.

Eddie felt like the graffiti had been his fault. If he hadn’t picked the flower, the gremlin wouldn’t have attacked them. If the gremlin hadn’t attacked them, no one would have spread any rumors, and the vandals wouldn’t have targeted Harris’s store again.

Harris told him to forget about it. “It’s happened before,” he said. “It’ll happen again. Besides, it can be painted over.”

Looking at his friends, Eddie wondered if they weren’t all the class freaks now. At least they would be freaks together. The Exiled . In a twisted way, the three of them were like the Lilim now, weren’t they? Eddie kept the thought to himself.

They picked up their notebooks and pens. Eddie opened The Enigmatic Manuscript to the spot where he had been interrupted the night before. He laid The Wish of the Woman in Black open to its last page, where the code key was written. “We work together, like yesterday,” he said, more determined than ever.

After researching the legend of the key in Romania for nearly a month, Nathaniel finally returned to the United States. He felt ready to be home.

Once there, he started to dream about a small town nestled in a group of wooded hills. It was called Gatesweed. The image of the town was so beautiful, he felt compelled to look up the name, to see if, somehow, the place might truly exist. To his surprise, after searching an atlas in the local library, he located a town called Gatesweed that happened to be a two-hour drive southwest of Coven’s Corner. Having already traveled so far for inspiration’s sake, he thought that one more jaunt-for curiosity’s sake-couldn’t hurt.

When Nathaniel arrived in Gatesweed, he felt like he’d come home. The hills, the mills, the park, the shape of the town itself were all familiar. Something told him to stay. With a loan from his parents, Nathaniel bought a house in the hills outside the center of the town. The place had been abandoned for years and needed plenty of work, so the price was right.

As he worked on the house during the day, he was struck by the number of story ideas that began to come to him. With every board he tore up and every stone he replaced, another image seemed to pop into his brain. He wrote them down in his notebooks, trying to capture them before they got away.

In the midst of renovations, Nathaniel discovered a passageway in the fireplace that led to a series of catacombs under the house. He was frightened, yet intrigued, to explore the space. After several hours, he decided that it would be perfect for a private office. What better place to write creepy stories than in a secret room in the basement?

At night, Nathaniel continued to have strange dreams. Now, instead of dreaming about Gatesweed, he began to dream about the woods beyond the orchard. Just like his earlier compulsion to find Gatesweed, Nathaniel now felt the need to explore this new pastoral domain at the bottom of the hill behind his house.

The next day, I trudged over the small ridge and down into a wide, wooded flatland. I walked for almost ten minutes before coming upon a dirt clearing.

On the other side of the clearing, I could see a strange white figure staring at me-a statue of a pretty young girl. Her face was pure white, but it was her eyes that caught my attention. Something about her gave me the chills. She held a book out to me. On the spine was carved a peculiar symbol-like some sort of Hebrew letter. I was shocked. Was this the letter, Chet, I’d read about in Romania? Looking closer, I noticed images of strange creatures carved into the base on which she stood. My suspicions began to materialize, like ghosts all around me.

I thought I heard a faint voice speaking unintelligible words into my ear; I dismissed it as a figment of my imagination. But the longer I watched the statue, the more I understood. Strange knowledge washed across my brain. I was standing on the brink of something huge. The evidence was unmistakable. The statue, the book in her hands, the symbol carved onto its cover, the images of the creatures dancing on the half-buried pedestal under the child’s bare feet. The words “oracle, henge, and monolith” repeated through my mind. These places truly existed-just like I’d read in The Myth of the Stone Children. And yet, reason would not allow me to believe that I had found a piece of the Garden’s wall.

Certainly, this was a powerful place. Its energy was palpable. But there must be some sort of explanation, I thought. I was certain that if I stood there long enough, the answer would come to me.

I remembered the silver pendant the Romanian woman had given me. According to the texts I read, the archangel’s key had the ability to lead whoever possessed it to the places where Eden ’s wall fell. Was it possible that the same thing had happened to me? If so, then my friend at the university had been wrong-the relic was not a fake. The pendant I had brought home was no mere souvenir. Looking into the stone child’s eyes, I knew that the key, which had once unlocked the Garden of Eden’s gate, was buried at the bottom of my sock drawer! The girl seemed to speak to me without words. The longer I stared at the statue, the more I felt I knew what I needed to do.

I walked all the way home, went upstairs to my bedroom, and removed the silver necklace from the drawer. It seemed to pulse in my hand with a cold heat. I was instantly filled with a great purpose. I knew then that the moment I had found this object, my destiny had been to come to Gatesweed and discover the statue in the woods-but there was something else, one final action I felt compelled to take.

I turned to a blank page in a notebook on my desk. Instinctively, I pressed the tip of the pendant to my notebook’s paper. To my surprise, a black line appeared like a pen mark. Then, for a reason I could not name, I drew the symbol that was carved into the stone child’s book.

Looking back, I now realize that at that moment, I had begun to tear a dangerous hole in the delicate fabric that protects our world from the mysterious ones that border it. I’d do anything now to take it all back.

“This is crazy,” said Eddie.

“Do you think he’s telling the truth?” said Maggie. “What if this is all just fiction?”

“After everything we’ve seen recently?” said Harris. “I think we can assume that he’s telling the truth.”

It had finally gotten dark out. Maggie cleared her throat and started rubbing her eyes. On the other side of the park, a car honked its horn. It was the first time since they’d opened the book that afternoon that they heard proof of the world outside their own private circle.

“Do you want some water?” Harris asked Maggie, who had been reading the last section aloud.

“No. I’m fine,” she said. “I actually feel like I don’t even really need the piece of paper to translate anymore.”

“What do you think is going to happen to him?” Eddie asked.

Harris closed his eyes, as if shutting out the inevitable conclusion.

Maggie shook her head. “I have an idea,” she said, “but I don’t want to spoil it.” Then she began where she had left off.

Using the pendant like a pencil, Nathaniel continued to write down bits and pieces of images and ideas-dark basements, secret keys to hidden doors, statues, ghosts, and demon dogs. From these notes, a story began to materialize.

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