Scapemaker

By Steve Cypert

Matthew is the son of Mr. Nicholas Namely, a local high school teacher. But unbeknownst to Matthew, his father is a dreamscaper whose classroom is connected to the dream-world. From his classroom, his students enter the halls of Scapemaker, a dream-world high school for young dreamscapers.
Following a couple of heartfelt tragic events, Matthew is compelled to investigate the unbelievable mysteries surrounding those events and is propelled into a whole new world. Matthew and his mother, Mae, are soon coerced into moving across the country for his father's strange medical needs. While attending his new school, Matthew comes to know the secrets that Daedree, an annoying girl from his former high school, has locked away. Matthew also meets Amber, a beautiful enigmatic girl who leads him to Mr. Xoner's classroom. While there, he learns the art of dreamscaping (which has been in the Namely bloodline for thousands of years).

Matthew will come to know of Nox Celare, otherwise known as The Sandman, who is after a special element called Magineum. Neck deep in skinwalkers, sandsleepers, zombies, soul feeders, ghosts, dream-world criminals known as “night terrors” and more, Matthew learns he is in over his head. Matthew must not only solve the mysteries surrounding those tragic events, but he will also have to protect the Magineum with his life and find a way to be with the one girl of his dreams. Filled with secrecy, mystery and a forbidden tangle of young love, this new life will lead Matthew to unbelievable characters with the most extraordinary abilities he could never have imagined.

Scapemaker will keep you grounded in the real world while at the same time make the fantastical world around it that much more possible and enduring. This tale of young adult paranormal fantasy will keep you guessing and wanting more.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steve Cypert
• Release date: Nov 21, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301174843

Steve Cypert

Steve Cypert grew up in Los Angeles, California but now resides in South Jordan, Utah. He is married to a beautiful wife, sharing their home with their cute little Shih Tzu, Duke - who you can see by visiting his blog.Steve has been writing for as long as he can remember, but only recently became an active writer determined to author his writings. Steve has always been very creative and his stories are lined with well-developed characters and detail.“Port of Errors” is Steve's first novel, which is the first in the "Born of Tyranny" series. He will be adding a second novel, separate from the Born of Tyranny series. This second novel is called "The Son of Nicholas Namely" and it too is the first in a series.Aside writing, Steve also loves to photograph scenic landscapes, wildlife and zoo-life. He loves the great outdoors and he'll try anything once, including skydiving, cliff-jumping, bungee-jumping and many more adrenaline fueled experiences.Steve has been a mascot for a triple A baseball team, pick-up and delivery driver for MSS, a DJ at the University of Utah radio station (volunteer for class), where he graduated from, and many other non-traditional forms of jobs. He hopes to make writing his career as it is his second true love beside his wife.

Book preview

SCAPEMAKER

The first novel in the Scapemaker series

By

Steve V Cypert

Scapemaker

Written By Steve V Cypert

Copyright © 2012, 2013 Steve Cypert

All rights reserved

Smashwords Edition

ISBN: 9781301174843

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PREFACE

1. TOMMY

2. AMBER

3. TAKEN

4. TRAGEDIES

5. A NEW BEGINNING

6. MR. XONER

7. A GLIMPSE

8. VENTURING OUT

9. SCAPEMAKER

10. MAC’S PLACE

11. THE OTHER MATTHEW

12. THE COME-AND-GOES

13. DAYTIME TERROR

14. SANDSTORM PRISON

15. THE LOCKDOWN

16. SACRED GROUND

17. THE BIG GAME

18. BATTLE FOR THE STONE

19. A VERY DARK PLACE

20. SEARCH FOR HUNTER

21. HUNTER’S LAIR

22. HAUNTED

23. STEWARD KEEPER

24. THE BRIDGE TO SANDSTORM

25. ASCENSION

26. STONEHENGE

GLOSSARY

I believe in everything until it’s disproved. So I believe in fairies, the myths, dragons. It all exists, even if it’s in your mind. Who’s to say that dreams and nightmares aren’t as real as the here and now?

- John Lennon -

PREFACE

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My name is Alec Xoner and I implore you not to venture on to this tale of the dream world—what some call fantasy—without an understanding of the truth. Do not fall asleep tonight unprepared or you fall prey to the infestation of the night-terrors. I pray you listen to my words, for I must tell you the true account of the most ruthless and evil being in all of the dream world. His name is Nox Celare, otherwise known as The Sandman…

It all began with a talented young dreamscaper named Cathleen. Cathleen attended the same real world high school as Steve, a young non-scaper who knew nothing of the Imagī-Nation, the dream world kingdom as a whole. Unbeknownst to all non-scapers, including Steve, Cathleen was actually attending Scapemaker, a dream world high school connected to her real world classroom through a dreamgate, a special door to the other side.

Intelligent and popular with both student and faculty, Cathleen was nominated to participate in the Imagilon, the most prestigious competition in the dream world.

In the dream world, Cathleen was classified as a cat—someone that appeared to have many lives, blessed with the ability to disconnect from the dream world upon death. For her, death in the dream world did not equal death in real life, which was the sad reality for most others. As a consequence, Cathleen healed quickly upon injury and illness in the real world, with the exception of love and other such matters of the heart. As a result, Cathleen did as she wished without threat of consequence, often testing her limits.

Toward the close of their junior year, Cathleen truly believed she had fallen in love with Steve. Although Cathleen was both intelligent and beautiful, Steve’s heart was already taken. He rejected Cathleen, wanting nothing to do with her. But so much was her dependence upon their union that she became obsessed and allowed her dark desires to take over. Unable to heal her own heart, she grew depressed and lost all control. Her nomination for the Imagilon was also lost. Scapemaker’s Imagilon team went on to a solid victory without her, adding to her frustrations.

In her depressed state, Cathleen was befriended by a despicable night-terror, a dark parasitic vampire—a soul feeder, drawn to the downhearted, empty souls. The bite of this soul feeder found an agreeable victim in Cathleen. Over the course of the next few months Cathleen and this dark parasitic vampire plotted to gain Steve’s love even if it meant that his love would not be true. She welcomed into her heart the hate she felt toward Steve’s girlfriend. In her bitterness and destructive self-loathing, Cathleen crossed further into forbidden territory by attacking Steve’s girlfriend in her sleep. Her experience was so traumatic, she died.

Cathleen’s ability had now changed into an uncontrollable, dark and deadly addiction. She had become what she had once despised—a soul feeder, believing as all night-terrors do, that her strength would blossom from embracing her addiction when in actuality her addiction only enslaved her.

Cathleen only wished to forget her once decent past. She wished only to wallow in the cravings growing within her tattered soul. She would, from that time forth, be known as Misery.

With the death of his girlfriend, Steve became depressed just as Misery had intended. Misery knew that, in his depression, Steve would be weak enough to fall for her cunning trickery. She consoled him in his slumber and sank her fangs deep into his neck. Misery’s bite gave Steve’s weakened mind such pleasure that he willingly submitted to her selfish desires.

Now, it is impossible to conceive a child in the dream world. However, on this particular evening Steve and Misery’s forbidden dream world intimacy actually did lead to real world conception. For several months Misery was unaware of the child growing within her belly as she brought Steve lower and lower into the depths of submission. A very wicked imagination, rooted in Misery’s evil, began to grow within the unborn child. Suddenly finding herself torn between her addictive hate and an unexpected love for the child growing within her belly, Misery wrestled within herself for days. Finally submitting to this love, Cathleen abandoned Steve in an unprecedented attempt to do right for him and her child.

Misery soon gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Because she loved the child so, she took him to the only place she ever considered worthy of home—Scapemaker. She kissed her son on the cheek and with a heartfelt tear, abandoned him to the arms of a young female skinwalker outside the doors of Scapemaker. Misery vowed to one day give up her death defying ability and her life for her son in remittance of her once dark and evil misdeeds.

The skinwalker woman, along with her husband, took it upon themselves to look after the child as their own. Because of his unusual conception, the boy grew up with extraordinary abilities, one of which paralleled the skinwalkers, able to cross in and out of the dream world with his physical body. The boy was strong and took on his biological father’s goodness; a father who would never come to know of his son’s existence. But unknowingly, the boy’s goodness continued to coexist with a darker portion of his imagination, which was still rooted in Misery’s abandoned evil.

For the first seventeen years of his life the boy was in control of his own thoughts. He kept hidden the dark portion of his imagination, which was continually growing within his being. He attended Scapemaker and learned quickly, rising to the top of his class. However, the strong temptation to concede to his darker thoughts grew ever stronger and began to consume his heart like a cancerous tumor. He thought he was all alone, unable to tell anyone about the secret struggle going on within his heart and mind. He was unaware that his adoptive father’s ever watchful eye had always been upon him, just waiting for an invitation to help.

Upon graduation from Scapemaker the boy was allowed into the Imagī-Nation. And right there on the front steps of Scapemaker, in plain view of several graduates, the dark imagination drove its addictive cravings aggressively into the boy’s thoughts with such force that he fell to his knees. As with any addiction, the struggle to choose a side literally tore the boy apart from the inside. Before the dark imagination could gain control he called out for help. The boy’s adoptive father immediately came to his aid. By the power of the skinwalker people, he placed his hands upon his son’s head giving him added love, strength and spirit to fight.

With this intense increase of strength, the boy fought with such will and determination that the magineal bond between the boy and the darker portion of his imagination was undone. The magineum that once fused his imagination to his spirit and body ripped away. Over the course of the next few hours, the boy writhed in agony as all but one of the seven pieces of magineum—which correlated with the points at which the imagination is fused—ripped painfully through his skin. The graduates watching from the steps of Scapemaker tried their best to console him while the magineum slowly fell to the floor in the form of six elemental stones, the seventh still fusing the good portion of his imagination to at heart.

Now completely independent, the dark imagination, quickly dissolved away like sand in the wind. It then vanished into the obscurer regions of the Imagī-Nation, thus eluding capture.

The boy’s father knew that if this dark imagination were to consume all six pieces, it would reconnect with the boy and gain the power to physically cross over into the real world. Knowing the dark imagination would soon realize the significance of the magineum and seek to reclaim each piece, the boy’s adoptive father attempted to destroy them all. But the stones would not give in to destruction. Because the tainted magineum stones could not be taken to the sacred and holy lands of the skinwalker people, the boy’s father called upon the graduates who were consoling his son. He placed the stones into six different containers, sealing each one with a protective charm tailored to that individual. He then pronounced them all official Keepers of the Magineum.

To give added protection, the boy’s father created six protectors and gave them each the power to cross over as needed. He then pronounced each of these creatures official Protectors of the Magineum.

Feeling an overpowering sense of weakness, the boy crossed over to the real world, where he knew his physical strength would be able support him.

Because the stones could not be destroyed, the boy’s father set out to capture and imprison the dark imagination. Following an extensive year-long search for the dark imagination, the boy’s father did find it. Upon capturing the dark imagination, the boy’s father was inspired to bestow a name upon it. He immediately pronounced it Nox Celare—meaning hidden night.

Without a physical body, Nox could only exist as a sandsleeper, feeding off the dark memories of night-terrors. He was therefore banished straightway to Sandstorm Prison, where all sandsleepers exist and where he would rule them all.

To this day, Nox uses his night-terrors to seek out the boy and his magineum. So, the boy—now a man—must keep his identity hidden until the day he dies or until Nox or the magineum is no more. However, more aggressive activity in recent years have arisen suspicions that indicate Nox may have uncovered the secret of the boy’s identity.

1. TOMMY

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Bruised and bleeding, Matthew stood at the battlefront. Only seventy yards lay between total victory and defeat. This was an all-or-nothing match. In order to win, the Privera Pathfinders would have to pull off a major upset against the number-one-ranked Whitmonte Cardinals. Matthew’s dream had long been a victory at Nationals. Now, at the California state high school football finals, that dream was just one goal away.

Matthew pulled out a lucky charm from underneath his jersey as it hung around his neck—a gift given to him earlier in the day from his best friend, Doby Brown. Matthew rubbed it between his fingers for good luck.

This was the one goal that truly mattered and the lengthy distance weighed heavily against them. With mere seconds left in the fourth and a three point deficit, they were too far to kick a field goal to tie the game. They decided, against all odds, to go for it.

Before Matthew knew it, the quarterback stepped back into the pocket with the ball. Matthew dropped the charm and darted forward—his cleats kicking up dirt and grass.

The ball was soon in Matthew’s hands. His heart raced as he charged forward with the football tucked protectively at his side. He could feel the pressure of the game upon his shoulders as beads of sweat formed into little droplets racing down his brow and the sides of his face. Blood dripped from his chin and cheek.

Following a brutal block by one of his teammates, Matthew was all alone with nothing but open space between him and the end zone. He could taste the imminent victory.

As he past the forty-yard line, the stands erupted into the kind of chaos that Matthew had always dreamt of. The clock, so it seemed, had all but paused for this one proud moment.

Unable to admit defeat, a handful of Whitmonte Cardinals desperately sped across the field at a fair distance behind him. But it was no use. It was now impossible for them to catch up.

"I finally made it to Nationals," he thought.

But no one could explain what happened next.

A single defensive player appeared just before the end zone. The number on his chest read twenty-nine. But Matthew couldn’t recall that number from any previous play.

"Where’d he come from?" he wondered.

Soon, Matthew was close enough to see the whites of his eyes. But he noticed something very peculiar. Number twenty-nine’s body seemed to flicker quickly in and out of tangibility. Matthew shook his head, knowing he had to be seeing things and continued on. Number twenty-nine instantly raced forward toward Matthew, who gripped the ball tighter. Matthew instinctively lowered his shoulder, determined to muscle his way through. When number twenty-nine’s image flickered again, Matthew’s focus faltered. Consequently, his pace stuttered and slowed just before impact. But where the impact should have taken place—there was none. Matthew past directly through number twenty-nine’s body. Matthew’s balance was immediately compromised and he stumbled roughly about, though he didn’t fall. He stopped at the five yard line in complete disarray when number twenty-nine reappeared directly in front of him.

What are you doing? shouted Matthew’s coach, who couldn’t see anyone at the goal line but Matthew.

Now standing face to face with what appeared to be an apparition of some sort, Matthew suddenly recognized him. Tommy?

You look like you’ve just seen a ghost, he replied. But don’t worry. I’m not a ghost. I’m just a bad daydream.

Matthew could see that Tommy’s lips didn’t move when he spoke. The words were heard within his own head as though all at once.

You’d better duck, he continued vocally, as he faded away.

Suddenly, two defenders slammed into Matthew from behind, taking his feet out from under him. Noted throughout the game by the name on their jerseys, their similar build and straight blonde, almost white hair, flowing out from underneath their helmets—they were twin brothers. Matthew was forced into a half-twisted backflip onto his head just inside the end zone. Unfortunately the ball had already been dislodged from his grip. Matthew was out cold before he even knew what happened, though he was aware it was the twins by the sound of their taunting laughter just before the hit.

While Matthew was being driven away by an ambulance, Whitmonte High was celebrating an undefeated season. The National title was now within their reach.

*****

While unconscious, Matthew could hear someone speaking in the darkness of his mind, though he could not understand what was being said. He felt strangely cold—a feeling that seemed to pierce his soul. When the darkness lifted, he found himself standing in the shadows of a curious room. The twins, who had just knocked him unconscious, were standing there in their street clothes speaking to a man who Matthew had never before seen. Matthew could sense his vile nature. The man had only one arm and bore a head of dreadlocks, which hung chaotically hiding portions of his face. But what little of that face Matthew saw, he could not forget.

Matthew also recognized Tommy, standing in the corner keeping watch and holding a long black cloak in his arms. However, Tommy, also without a football uniform, appeared normal without translucency.

"Where am I? wondered Matthew. What’s going on?"

The twins appeared to be frightened. Matthew wished he could find some place to hide but he wasn’t able to move. He couldn’t make out the muted whispers. He soon realized that none of them were able to see him. Matthew could sense the despicable nature of the conversation. Soon, their voices faded in and Matthew was able to hear the tail end of the parley.

We had a deal! I did my part. I broke your minds free of their control. I taught you more than you deserve. I brought out more strength and power from inside of you than those mindless instructors could ever hope to do with their rules and foolish laws. All they did was hold you back. I showed you a better way!

Dark images crept out from the shadows immediately around the man and began surrounding the twins.

But it’s not that simple, said one of the twins.

The other twin chimed in. The classrooms and halls need to be empty. It could be months before the time is right.

The man laughed in a mocking tone as he lifted one of the twins off the ground by the neck with his one arm. A dark smoldering plume seeped out from his mouth and nose. And the smell of smoke and ash consumed the room.

I’ve been waiting two years and it still feels like prison, explained the man, as the twin struggled for breath. I can’t go anywhere without looking over my shoulder, hiding behind hoods and cloaks. I need to be free. I can’t do this much longer. I need those stones!

When the twin started fighting for his life, Matthew tried to help, but he couldn’t move. He tried shouting, but found he was mute.

We just need some time, said the other twin. A few more months are all we need. I promise. We’ll do whatever it takes. Just put him down. You’re killing him.

To Matthew’s horror and amazement, the man began to change, shape-shifting into some sort of monster. His one arm grew in bulk along with his chest, defining his muscles as his clothing shredded. A second arm grew out from his left shoulder, matching the size of the other. His skin, covered in dreadful tattoos, changed to an ugly greenish-tint. He was a large ogre with a temper to match.

By the look on the twins face, the ogre was squeezing even harder. He opened his mouth, forcing out a deep and wretched roar. Wake up, he shouted, as he threw the twin across the room.

All at once, the twin slammed into the stone wall, which began to swirl into a cloud of dissipating sand, opening up into a dark nothingness. The twin, plastered to the wall, was sucked through like a vacuum.

Matthew’s heart beat harder as he gasped in thought, still without a voice or ability to move.

The ogre sized back down to his human form. He took the other twin by the neck and gave an unpromising ultimatum. When you wake up, you tell your brother you’ve got three months! Get me into that school! After that, you can show those weaklings how powerful you’ve become. But if you fail, I’ll show you how truly weak you are by feeding on your fear until you rot.

The man let go of the twin and was about to thrust his heel into his chest, when he unexpectedly turned toward Matthew. Matthew immediately felt an overwhelming sense of terror.

The man quietly motioned to Tommy, who opened up the cloak and placed it over his shoulders. The man covered himself, throwing the hood over his head.

He then sniffed the air in Matthew’s direction and stared as though he could tell someone was there by the smell. He looked right through Matthew unable to see him. An extension of the man’s touch, in the form of dark shadowy images, stretched forth from his skin at the chest and out from underneath the cloak toward Matthew. The closer the shadowy images came, the deeper the feeling of hate and a sense of death Matthew could feel. The man smiled, savoring the moment as though he could actually taste Matthew’s fear.

Matthew was suddenly able to hear his mother’s voice calling out to him, which echoed distantly through his mind. Matthew realized his eyes were actually closed and he strained to open them. When they finally opened, his mother, Mae, came into view. As Matthew’s vision sharpened, he could see his coach and a doctor standing close by. He could tell he was in a hospital room.

Just then Matthew’s father, Nicholas, entered the room. I hurried over as fast as I could. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the game, Champ. I had way too many papers to correct. How are you feeling?

He just woke up, said the doctor, who then turned to Matthew. You’ve been unconscious for some time. You took quite a hit tonight. You sustained a more-than-mild concussion. I was told you came down on your head pretty hard when you were tackled.

Matthew grabbed his aching head, feeling groggy and weak. Yeah—I can tell. Even though he was talking to those in the room, Matthew could not stop thinking about the dream he just awoke from and how real it seemed to be.

I’m just glad you’re okay, said Mae.

Wow, said Matthew’s father. That’ll make for a good story.

Mae quickly gave him a cold look.

After verifying Matthew’s condition as good, the doctor insisted, Matthew will have to stay the night so we can keep an eye on him. My staff will be monitoring him each hour until he goes home tomorrow.

That’s fine with us, said Matthew’s father, who looked at his wife with a playful smile. We can use the alone time.

Mae answered with a look of puzzling disappointment. This is nothing to joke about.

Standing next to Matthew’s father was Matthew’s football coach, who was aching to find answers. Why’d you stop so close to the end zone, Matt? What happened out there?

Someone was at the end zone. I’m sorry; I just couldn’t get around him.

Matt, you were alone out there with only five yards to go. You left them all in the dust. You could have gone to buy a hotdog and still had time to cross that line. You had the game in your hands and you just stopped. No one was in front of you. What happened?

I’m sorry, Coach. I saw what I saw. I can’t do anything about it now, replied Matthew. I don’t know what else to tell you.

The coach lowered his head and threw his hands up. I don’t know what to say either, Matt.

They must have hit you pretty hard if you’re seeing someone that wasn’t there, said Matthew’s father.

"But, he saw him before he was tackled, said Mae, with concern in her voice. Well, I guess he was tackled plenty of times before he took that last hit. He could have had a small concussion before he took that hit. I hope he’s okay."

Just don’t worry; he’s in good hands, consoled Matthew’s father. He’ll recover. Even so, he could have just as easily been paralyzed and….

Or worse, interjected Mae.

Politely excusing the coach from the room, Matthew’s mother closed the door. Turning to Matthew, she suggested, You’d better get some rest.

After a few more words, Matthew’s parents said their goodbye’s for the night. Mae ended with a simple, I love you.

Matthew’s father turned out the light. Before shutting the door, he stated, Hang in there, Champ.

Matthew’s father was never one to be mushy. Matthew couldn’t recall him ever saying I love you, even though it was common knowledge.

Matthew closed his eyes, thinking about the night’s events. In the back of his mind he knew there was something more than just seeing things in his head and he knew there was something more to his dream—something real.

2. AMBER

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It had been nine and a half months since State finals. The images of Tommy, the twins, and the unknown man still played out in Matthew’s sleep.

Matthew sprang up to a seated position on his bed, squeezing his pillow with an iron grip. His eyes were wide open as he yelled out in a fretful panic. Upon seeing a silhouette standing at the side of his bed Matthew flinched away with a startled gasp.

Mom? he questioned.

Are you okay? asked Mae. Sitting by his side with a hand to his cheek, she inquired, Another bad dream?

Yeah, he replied. But I don’t think you know how bad it’s been. These dreams have been torturing me for months. It’s always the same people and it feels so real.

It’s just stress buildup from homework and football. It’s more common than you think. My father used to have really bad dreams when he was your age, confided Mae. Maybe it runs in the family. As he got older they just went away.

Pappy ‘T’ had dreams that actually scared him? questioned Matthew. I didn’t think he was scared of anything.

You’re our only child and Pappy Theamaras’ only grandson. He treated you differently. The only side of him he ever let you see was his rough-around-the-edges side. He was definitely a tough guy, but he was human too. He had to be tough. His parents died when he was fourteen, which is probably why he had those reoccurring nightmares. His great aunt raised him on a real ranch. He was a regular roughneck cowboy type. Mae then chuckled reminiscently. When he was upset—and he was always upset at something—he would call me over at the top of his lungs from somewhere in the house, she said, lowering her voice and adding her twist on his gruff drawl to try and match her memory of him, "Mae Dawn! You bess git o’er here raut now—An’ I mean yesterday! she chuckled softly. He said he would put a switch to my backside if I didn’t come quickly enough. Of course he never did. But it always seemed to work. Yeah, he was as tough and hard-shelled as they come, but he still had those nightmares."

Matthew’s alarm clock sounded, causing him to react with another gasping flinch. He reached over and slammed his hand down on the clock. I can’t stand that thing! I swear I’m going to break it.

Mae consoled him. Remember, it’s only a dream. You’ll get past this too, I promise. You got over your imaginary friend phase when you were six. Then joking to lighten the mood, she added, But, you’d better get over the nightmares. If you don’t, your dreams are going to give me a heart attack one of these days.

Mom, bad dreams aren’t hereditary. I just need to get over it.

Playfully messing his hair with a single hand, Mae insisted, Now, hurry up and get ready for school before you’re late. She was about to walk out of Matthew’s room when she remembered something. Holding out a wallet, Mae turned back to Matthew.

Oh, speaking of being late, I almost forgot the reason I came to your room in the first place. Your father woke up late and forgot his wallet on his night stand. Would you mind interrupting his class before yours starts?

What? He always gets to school by five-thirty. He’s never late for work, said Matthew.

Hurry up. I’ll give you a ride there.

He plucked the wallet from Mae's hand with a mischievous grin. Well, I need to get ready if you want me to get this to him on time. Gently shoving Mae out of his room, he playfully insisted, "I can dress myself, thank you."

*****

Matthew hurried to his father’s classroom a few minutes before the start of his own first period course. When he reached for the knob he felt a strange, almost tangible sensation that seemed to force him away. He took a few steps back, trying to clear his mind. Determined to give the wallet to his father, he pushed his way through the incessant feeling. He then clenched the doorknob, twisting it until a click sounded, releasing the pressure from within the room that forced the door to pop open a few inches.

As soon as the door opened, Matthew’s eyes grew heavy. He shook it off as best as he could and peered through the crack. Class was in session. He noticed a white rabbit sitting at the rear of the room in a small portable cage. The rabbit stared back toward Matthew as though it were aware of his presence. In the cage along with the rabbit sat a mysterious glass jar containing blue sand that wouldn’t have been noticeable if it wasn’t for its peculiar radioactive type glow.

Matthew just stood there fighting his tired eyes. "What’s going on?" he wondered.

Matthew fought to keep his eyes from shutting as he pulled open the door and took his first step inside. The urge to close his eyes became overpowering. He rubbed them with closed fists for a second or two to satisfy the anxiety. When he reopened his eyes he was wide awake. Before Matthew could take a second step, he was already standing at his father’s desk. Matthew was confused and looked back at the door wondering how he got there so quickly.

He was going to place the wallet on the desk when he noticed his father was sitting in a stone-still position, completely silent. When Matthew looked around, he realized all the students were seated in the same flawlessly upright position at their desks. Even Matthew’s best friend, Doby Brown, was seated in perfect posture at the front of the room. Neither he nor the other students acknowledged Matthew’s presence.

Looking back to his father, Matthew stuttered a befuddled, Dad?

When no answer came, Matthew looked nervously about. He noticed that the jar sitting in the cage no longer had sand inside. Instead, there was a precious stone of some sort, bluish-green in color.

Suddenly, his father came to. Matthew, what are you doing here?

Mom asked me to bring you your wallet.

Thank you, said Mr. Namely, as he reached for it. I appreciate that. Now, I’m sorry, but you can’t be in here.

Withholding the wallet from his father, Matthew had something to say. But, Dad, I just—

No buts, he interrupted. You need to leave right now, Matthew.

Dad, can’t I just….

No you may not, he snapped. "And, please, remember to address me as Mr. Namely while at school. I can’t have anyone thinking I treat you differently."

"But you do, Mr. Namely, refuted Matthew. In fact, you always treat them better than you treat me! Realizing how loud he had gotten he took a quick look around, embarrassed. He was surprised to see how unaffected the students seemed to be. They just sat motionless at their desks without the slightest change in expression. What’s up with your class? asked Matthew, as he walked up to Doby, waving a hand directly in front of his face. What’s wrong with them?"

Don’t worry about them, replied Mr. Namely. It’s just a class project.

From out of the blue, Matthew became aware of a faint rattle coming from the closet to the right of Mr. Namely’s desk. When Matthew looked over, he noticed the knob was turning. Mr. Namely stood to try and prevent the door from opening, but before he could get to it the door opened with a mild creak.

Matthew was pleasantly surprised when a beautiful young girl walked out. She looked Native American and stood a little more than five feet tall with straight, dark, midlength hair. She was sopping wet and covered in mud, dripping as though it had been pouring cats and dogs.

Matthew didn’t recognize her, though she felt strangely familiar. He caught her gaze and was immediately lost in her penetrating emerald green and yellow eyes. Matthew chanced a smile. She smiled in return and approached him. For a split second, a faint whisper within her eyes tried to tell him something the heart longed to say. But the moment passed with the words unsaid.

Aggravated, Mr. Namely rolled his eyes.

How’s it going, Matt? She looked herself over, muddy and wet. Sorry, I must look awful.

Matthew was known for his humble confidence, but this girl was beautiful and intimidating. Attempting to sound confident, he straightened up. I really don’t think that’s possible. He smiled nervously.

Amber, you don’t have to do this, said Mr. Namely.

Like the flip of a switch, Amber was in the mind set of business only. I’m here to talk with your son, she said, matter-of-factly.

Is it Amber? questioned Matthew.

Yes.

Amber, can I just ask what were you doing in the closet?

That’s not important right now, she replied, ignoring the compliment. I’m only here because I knew you’d be here right now.

I didn’t even know I’d be here this morning—until this morning. How could you know I’d be here?

Matthew just brought me my wallet, said Mr. Namely, which I know I had this morning at the gas station. He looked suspiciously toward Matthew’s best friend, who was sitting perfectly still at his desk. "Doby, right? Frustrated, Mr. Namely ran his fingers nervously through his hair. Go ahead, Amber, tell him. I’ll just make sure he won’t remember any of this when he wakes up."

When I wake up? questioned Matthew. Won’t remember what? What’s going on? Turning back to Amber, he paraphrased his earlier question. How did you know I’d be here?

"You told me, Matt."

Amber, not to be rude or anything, but you’ve got to have me confused with someone else. I’ve never met you before. Believe me; I would definitely remember talking to a girl with looks like yours.

I don’t have time for this, she said. I have to tell you something that’s going to sound very strange. But there’s no other way to say it without more time.

Okay, he replied, just to humor her. I’ll try and keep an open mind.

"Matt, you are a scaper—a dreamscaper. You have the ability to consciously enter the dream world. You just need to learn how to use that ability. The moment you stepped into this room you were in a state of pre-sleep."

Right, said Matthew, unbelieving. So this is all supposed to be a dream?

Why would he believe any of that, said Mr. Namely, as he sat down and leaned back in his chair with a smug look on his face.

Ignoring Mr. Namely, she continued, Matt, soon, a course of tragic events will change your life. With a quick glance toward Mr. Namely, Amber continued speaking to Matthew. The ability to dreamscape is in your blood. Looking back to Matthew, she explained, You’re going to be attending a new school soon. But everything will be okay.

Wait a minute, said Matthew. I’m not going to a new school. I like where I’m going.

In another month you’re not going to have choice.

I believe that you believe that, replied Matthew. But, I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to be a Privera Pathfinder for life.

"And you always will be—at heart."

Amber, I don’t know why you even bother, said Mr. Namely. You know I’m going to make it so he doesn’t remember any of this. I just need to keep him away a little longer.

You know that everything I tell him will be stored in his subconscious. He's a dreamscaper. You can’t block everything. He’s your only son. I can’t believe you don’t know how strong he is. It’s in his blood.

Hiding her hand from Mr. Namely, Amber stepped closer to Matthew and placed a small brass object into the palm of his hand. This is an enchanted key, she whispered. "Don’t show it to anyone—not your father, not your friends. Don’t even show it to me, not until I tell you it’s the perfect time to use it. The next time we meet will be our first. So, don’t let me see this key until you know it’s time."

He never heard anything so bizarre. Okay, he whispered, apprehensively, as he slipped the key into his jacket pocket, his other hand still holding on to his father’s wallet.

Amber backed away from Matthew. She opened the closet door barely wide enough to slip through. Facing the sliver of an opening from inside, she disappeared within the darkness of the closet as she pulled it shut.

Matthew, you’re going to be late for your next class, warned Mr. Namely.

But, what’s she doing in there? he asked, while walking up to the door. It’s just a closet

You’re right, said Mr. Namely. And you won’t find anyone there.

With a hand already on the doorknob, Matthew quickly jerked it open. But, as Mr. Namely mentioned, no one was there. Screwed to the inside wall, was a manual pencil sharpener, blanketed with a thick layer of dust. Course materials and supplies lined a few shelves while an old broom rested against a back corner. A burned-out light bulb hung from the center of the cracked wooden ceiling above, which was lined loosely with a few frail cobwebs. From the base of the light hung a long narrow chain that caused a slight pinging against the thin, brittle glass of the hollow bulb as it swayed back and forth.

The wallet slipped from his weakened grip. He was dumbfounded. When Mr. Namely’s wallet slapped the floor, the echo reverberated strangely, snapping him out of his befuddled daze. He took a quick glance down to the wallet and then back at his frustrated father. What’s going on? he asked. Where’d she go?

Like I said, there’s no one there. And you’re going to be late for your class. You need to leave right now.

Matthew looked back to his father moved toward the exit in resentment.

You never even made it into this room, said Mr. Namely. Matthew looked down bothered and confused. He grabbed the knob. Aware of their gawking stares, Mathew looked back to Mr. Namely’s students, who were no longer motionless. He looked away and turned the knob. The moment he stepped outside, everything went black.

*****

Matthew woke up with his right cheek plastered to the concrete floor just outside of his father’s classroom. The door at his nose

Reviews for Scapemaker

[colleenmbratley · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Reality is nothing but our perception. Steve Cypert takes our perception through a new door, and we are only dreaming.Well that's what the story tells you anyway. Dreaming is, for some, an ability to be in another dimension and as alive and active as what we believe is our normal reality. Actually more alive and more able to do things which are believed to not be possible otherwise. Confusing? I was confused at first even though I thought I knew what was going on, but then I had to question things and get all the lines blurred again.Follow the path and you won't get lost. Really? No. This story is not that easy or it would be boring. This creation takes you on a journey that is anything but boring. The characters bring it to life and as you learn about them your emotions join theirs and you even want to shake them up a bit when they do or say something you know they shouldn't. That's what you'd do in real life so if the author can bring that through on the page, then he has done his job.The great thing about fiction is you can create anything you want. The hard part for the author is to make it believable. If you can convince your reader that this could actually happen, get them to feel like they are really there in the moment, and make them want to read more, then your creation becomes real. The reader loves it, and imagines it as a possible real tangible event. This book brings the story and its characters to life. Yes there is some explanation of the new never before known elements replication, but the story as told is pretty darn good.I have to say there are a few places where it seemed the characters would not get out unscathed or even alive for that matter. But the author, using his great creative mind manages to move them forward and leave you nothing but surprised and entertained.It is a mystery fantasy journey that students and a few teachers take into another realm of reality. It's a story that happens mostly in the dream world with a little of the "normal" reality mixed in.I have to say I was surprised and happy with the story. It wasn't what I expected, and the author's ability to weave a tale that has to have a sequel or two yet still has an ending was wonderful. It's entertaining, and I'm sure you will enjoy it.