Click here to read Part One. “The Isle of what!?” cried Matt Baker in horror. “The Isle of Dread, of course,” said Mr. Tickleten. “Why do you sound so surprised?” “That’s the island no ship has ever come back from!” Matt shouted frantically. “I don’t want to die!” “Matt, we told you all about this trip yesterday,” said Mr. Smith slowly. “And it was all in your contract. Didn’t you read it before you signed? Weren’t you listening?” “Well, um, maybe not as well as I should have…” replied Matt, not quite sure which question he was answering. “I thought this was a sea voyage, not a death exploration!” “Yes,” said Mr. Smith. “A day’s sail to the Isle of Dread, and that is where your mapmaking skills will be needed. You really didn’t understand that?” “No!” blurted out Matt. “Well, in that case…” said Mr. Smith, preparing to rip the paper Matt had given him. “Wait just a minute!” cried the younger Mr. Franklin, walking up and snatching the paper out of Mr. Smith’s hands. “Just because this boy isn’t too bright, we can’t be held responsible for his stupidity.” Matt blushed and hung his head as several of of the crew members jeered. “We need a map maker, and this boy signed our contract. It isn’t our fault he didn’t know what he was getting himself into, but he is coming!” Mr. Smith’s eyes burned with anger. “Do not insult this lad like that, and he is not coming if he doesn’t want to!” he said with clenched fists. “Gentlemen, gentlemen!” cried Mr. Tickleten, squeezing in between the two men. “That comment was out of line, Mr. Franklin. You shouldn’t pick on people that you don’t even know...” Mr. Franklin’s face contorted in anger. “But,” said Mr. Tickleten, turning towards Mr. Smith, “Mr. Franklin does have a point. We have been waiting a long time to go on this exploration, and we need this lad to complete our goals. I don’t want to force him to do something, but perhaps we should ask him what he thinks is fair.” All eyes turned on Matt. “Well,” said Matt, sighing, “I definitely don’t want to go to the Isle of Dread.” The crew hung their heads in disappointment. “However, I gave my word that I would come, so... I’m in.” Mr. Smith nodded. “Thank you lad.” He turned to the crew. “Well men, it’s time to sail!” Matt breathed in deeply, realizing what he had gotten himself into. With a fake grin of confidence, he followed the others to the ship. Had Matt fully understood what would happen, our story most likely would have stopped here as he ran away with his tail between his legs. But as no one can ever see the future, quite an interesting tale awaits us. “Welcome to the Bella Fawn,” said Mr Tickleten, helping Matt up onto the deck. “May not be the biggest vessel, but in the 6 years she’s sailed for us, not once has she let us down... except for that time last year with the giant eel, and several years before that with the storm, and the first adventure we went on with her when her steering got us completely lost, and last week when we found a leak. But, other than that, she’s as good as gold.” Matt gulped, “Thanks for the reassurance.” Despite the Bella Fawn’s misgivings, the day unfolded better than Matt could have hoped. All through the morning and afternoon, there was nothing but smooth sailing. The crew was a very kind group of men overall, and they were so glad to finally set sail that they let Matt believe that his knots and steering were almost sea worthy. By the time night rolled around, Matt had not only become friends with just about everyone on the ship, the exception being Mr. Franklin, but he was second guessing his hesitation to come in the first place. That night, Matt slept in a room full of snoring stinky men on an unsafe ship, sure that he was by far the luckiest 16-year-old boy in the world.
The next morning, he woke early and walked out on deck to find Mr. Tickleten at the wheel. “Why, good morning, my young fellow,” he said cheerily. “Hope the snores didn’t keep you awake.” “It was great; all of the crew has been so nice.” “Indeed, you couldn’t find a better bunch even if you located every piece of fruit in Ildathore,” he chuckled at his own subtle joke and turned to see Matt’s blank face staring back. “You’re a very down to earth young man, aren’t you? ” “Actually, I’m pretty tall for my age,” replied Matt. Mr. Tickleten grinned. “That’s what I thought.” Matt looked up at the crow’s nest to see the outline of a man looking out ahead of them. “Who is that up there?” Mr. Tickleten sighed. “That would be Mr. Franklin. He likes to get away from everything sometimes and take some time to think.” “Oh, can I ask you something?” “Well, if I were to take your question literally, then yes, you can and you did ask something, but I will permit another.” Mr. Tickleten smiled. “What’s on your mind?” “Why didn’t you get in trouble for intervening in your boss’s business yesterday morning? I don’t know anyone who could get away with something like that.” “Well, that is mainly why they hired me,” said Mr. Tickleten. “I always speak my mind, and when it comes to important matters, I tend to choose the reasonable approach. I knew the young Mr. Franklin and Mr. Smith long before they started working together. Then one day, each asked me to meet, and each seemed rather upset. So, at noon, I went to see Mr. Franklin, and he told me that he’d met with his new business partner for the first time and he was absolutely terrible! He complained about how his new partner would actually rather help people than make money, ‘Imagine that!’ Well, that night, I went to meet my friend Mr. Smith, and before long, he was all fired up about how his two new business partners were dreadful and how they wanted to make money more than be fair. ‘Imagine that!’ “Well, I’m no genius, but lucky for me, it didn’t take one to solve that puzzle. I continued to calm them down whenever I saw them, and before they knew what was happening, not only were they working together, but the business was a huge success. Then, a few months later, I lost my job and my dear friends both offered me one at the company. Now, though it isn’t in my job description, I continue to help them compromise since they both respect me.” Mr. Tickleten laughed quietly to himself. “What’s more is that I am such an old friend to each of them that I don’t believe either has caught on. Isn’t life ironic?” Before Matt could answer, Mr. Franklin yelled from the crow’s nest, “Land ho, land ho!” “Well,” said Matt slowly, “it’s time!” Mr. Tickleten clapped his hands together happily, “Goody, goody! Isle of Dread, here we come!” Written and Illustrated by Sabina B. Edited by The Flabbits Copyright © 2018 by The Flabbit Room
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My sister, the oldest,
Is a bookworm indeed. She showed me a path, Trodden by the boldest. Weaving its way through mystery hills, The road is soft dirt. Barefoot I can go, As birds sing about in trills. So I run at full speed, Down the winding path. It carries my quickly to the end, But there it plants a seed. At the end is a gate, Which leads to another world. One of darkness malice, Hate. But looking down far, I see a light end. For through the dark way, One comes to a star. On this road do I move, Through the gate of metal, dark. My feet land on bricks, slimy gross. So I step on quickly, My toes finding each brick’s groove. The darkness is frightening, The path doubles back. But I don’t want to see the same again, So I push on faster, feeling the road curve tightening. I’m now back around, Moving towards the star. In the sadness it’s gloomy, But evil doesn’t surround. The road becomes steep, And I start to slide. It’s pulling me faster, And closer does the bright point creep. So I close my eyes, Pulling through to the end. And when I open them back, I can’t believe the darkness dies. This sad path has ended, I’ve seen it’s full course. But now there are two gates, One well kept, with a road behind. But I turn to the other. It’s gate is new wooden, But the path behind… Is not made. It’s waiting for someone to come, And guide its way. It’s calling on me, So path guide I become. Written by Buddy J. Edited by The Flabbits Copyright © 2018 by The Flabbit Room Matt Baker sat nervously in a chair opposite Mr. Ankletoe, owner of the repair shop on Hensfine Lane. He fidgeted as Mr. Ankletoe looked at him, skeptical. “Name?” “Baker, Matt Baker,” fumbled Matt. “Age?” “16 years, seven months, and five days,” replied Matt, trying not to sound too desperate. “Work experience?” asked Mr. Ankletoe. “Well, I don’t have any, yet….” said Matt, trying to stall what he knew was coming, “but I’m good at fixing things….. generally speaking….. most of the time.” “I see,” said Mr. Ankletoe, rubbing his temples. “Well, I have your home address. If we ever need you, I’ll let you know.” Matt sighed. “I understand. Thanks for your time.” Matt stood and shook hands with Mr. Ankletoe, knowing that they would never work together. As he left the repair shop, he looked up at the sky full of storm clouds. Bringing his eyes back down, he saw a stray cat whose desperate appearance reminded him much too much of himself. “Trust me. You're better off far away from me,” he said. “I’m probably not even qualified to pet you, knowing my track record.” The cat cocked its head, as if trying to understand and then walked off. Matt made his way slowly around town, watching all the other boys his age running errands and working in shops, and wishing he could be one of them. Without meaning to, he eventually found his way to the edge of town. As he walked, a sign caught his attention. Eagerly he read it. “In need of mapmakers, sailors, explorers, writers, interesting and desperate individuals willing to gamble safety, and handymen.” “Handymen!” he said again, brightening. Maybe there was a job he could do after all. If Matt Baker had been paying better attention and wasn’t so desperate for a job, and was perhaps just a bit brighter of a person altogether, he might have realized that having employers who wanted people desperate for a job wasn’t the best idea. However, Matt Baker was not brighter than Matt Baker, so he didn’t consider it. As he walked into the building, a little bell rang on the door. “Hello?” he said to an empty room and a vacant receptionist desk. Out of a door popped a short jolly man as thin as a stick and as perky as a rabbit. “Oh, hello!” he said, making an enthusiastic bow. “Welcome to Franklin, Franklin, & Smith, Enterprise of Unusual and Extraordinary Events and/or Conquests and/or Business Deals and/or the Buying and/or Selling of Exotic and/or Downright Interesting Objects, or as we have affectionately called it because the full name is much much too long, Franklin, Franklin, & Smith. My name is Mr. Tickleten. How may I help you?” said Mr. Tickleten with a sing-song voice and a friendly smile that brightened the room. “Hi, I am Matt Baker, and I noticed that your sign said you wanted help from a….” “Oh yes!” cried Mr. Tickleten delightedly. “You have come just in time to meet your possible employers! Please follow me right this way.” “Um, thank you,” said Matt, slightly confused. “Mr. Tickleten, am I meeting….” “No, you are not meeting Mr. Tickleten. There is only one of me!” said Mr. Tickleten, leading him through the hall with a spring in his step. “And in case you never studied grammar, or just don’t remember it, or possibly you don’t care and I am just rambling, which I do all the time anyway, the correct way to ask is: Am I meeting Mr. Tickleten, not the other way around. As it is, you are meeting Mr. Franklin, Mr. Franklin, and Mr. Smith, the founders of Franklin, Franklin, & Smith.” “The founders!” said Matt surprised. “But Mr. Tickleten, I’m just a handym...” “Here we are!” piped in Mr. Tickleten, flinging open some double doors that led into a meeting room. At a table in the middle of the room sat three men. One was old with a grumpy look on his face, another looked like a younger version of him, also with a grumpy look on his face, and the other was between their ages and seemed rather bored. “Gentlemen,” said Mr. Tickleten, bowing again, “This young boy is interested in being a mapmaker here.” The bored man stood up with a sparkle in his eyes, “Indeed! A fine looking young man and just when we needed him most! My name is Mr. Smith.” Matt’s face went pale, “Mapmaker?” “Yes he is and a very good one, too!” added Mr. Tickleten proudly. “What?” hissed Matt into Mr. Tickleten’s ear. “I said I was Matt Baker not a map...” “You look like a nice young man,” said Mr. Smith. “As I said, my name is Mr. Smith, and those two happy-go-lucky gentleman are Mr. Franklin and his son. So, how do you feel about sailing?” Matt’s eyes opened wide. Sailing! he thought, excitedly. He remembered rowing with his father years ago on a little boat. Those were by far the happiest memories he had. “Now you must understand the possible dangers of this trip….” But Matt wasn’t listening anymore. He was far away on a beautiful ship, riding the waves and feeling the sun on his face, and best of all, getting paid to scribble some drawings on paper! “I’ll do it!” he said as soon as Mr. Smith stopped talking. “A boy after my own heart!” said Mr. Smith, clapping his hands together. He handed Matt a contract. “Read over this tonight, sign it, and be at the docks tomorrow morning. We set sail at dawn!” That night, Matt could barely sleep he was so exhilarated. The next day, he hurriedly signed the contract without having time to glance through it and made his way to the dock. When he got there, Mr. Tickleten, the young Mr. Franklin and Mr. Smith were waiting with the crew. “Good to see you, lad!” said Mr. Smith, smiling. “Do you have the contract?” “Right here!” said Matt, handing it over. “I can’t wait!” cried Mr. Tickleten, bouncing up and down in excitement. “And now, away we sail, to the Isle of Dread!” “The Isle of what!?” Written and Illustrated by Sabina B. Edited by The Flabbits Copyright © 2018 by The Flabbit Room |
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