Faraway Lands

By Grant Haverly

When Jacob's dad doesn't show up for his birthday it's pretty much the same old story as usual; the kind of story that can break a kid's heart. But in another land, faraway, there is a different story that is about to take hold of Jacob. In this place, at once so spectacular as it is dangerous, Jacob will find himself on a journey that will take him from the beautiful tower of the White City to the ghostly confines of Black King's castle. On his way, he will encounter talking animals, singing trees, a sharp tongued princess with a penchant for glaring, and many other trials and tribulations so adverse they could only happen in a child's imagination. Basically Jacob will have an adventure. And sometimes an adventure is all one actually needs to realize what there is that's right with the real world around them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Harding ePublishing
• Release date: Jun 13, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301839841

Grant Haverly

Grant Haverly was born and raised in Joplin, Missouri, and now lives in Springfield, Missouri. There he attends Drury University as an English and Writing Major. Alongside his schooling, he also works as a tutor for the Carol Jones Writing Center at Ozarks Technical Community College. His published works include his first novel, Faraway Lands, as well as his short story “Rain Dance”, which received second place in the Currents magazine flash fiction contest, and was published in their Spring 2013 edition, Voices Unbound.

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FARAWAY LANDS

By

Grant Haverly

Published by Harding ePublishing

Smashwords edition

Copyright © 2013 by Grant Haverly

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act

of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or

transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval

system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Harding ePublishing

1121 E. Oak Tree Lane, Springfield, MO 65810

Visit our website at hardingepublishing.com

First edition June 2013

Chapter 1

The Boy

We all know what it is to wait for something. It can be the most terrible thing in the world, at least for the length of time that you do it. And if what you’re waiting for is worse, then it only makes waiting for it worse. While if what you have waited for is good, then waiting for it seems so much worse than it really is. Still though, the worst is waiting for something that won’t come at all; that is by far the very worst to be had. In those cases it is not really waiting at all, just sitting still and pretending to wait. And being that waiting is the most terrible of things in the world, it is as if you were wishing the worst thing in the world upon yourself. And that is just unthinkable. Yet, everyday people wait and wait, their lives turned tedious for it, while really they should have been up and about and doing instead of waiting. So many of the things we wait for won’t come to us so we must then go to them, and that is exactly what doing is for. But you can’t tell this to people, oh no, they will not listen to such nonsense.

Dreaming is sort of like waiting while you’re asleep, only that when your eyes are shut, you are really there and not waiting one bit (not one bit). But when your eyes do open and you wake, you find that somehow you seem to have been waiting all along. That is why we must always work very hard to fulfill our dreams, so that we don’t end up waiting our lives away for them to come true. Now, daydreaming is like waiting as well, but only because usually you are actually waiting when you do it and so that doesn’t really count I guess. Dreaming and waiting can be funny things.

But anyway, waiting can be a terrible sort of practice, that is for certain; and though it is such a terrible thing, I am sorry to say that it is how this story begins. Now don’t let it fool you, the story isn’t in anyway quite so terrible as waiting (actually I believe it is a very good story, and I should know). It’s just that sometimes the best of things start out as the worst, and truly it only makes them better in the end.

With all that said, Jacob Moore gazed longingly out the window at the gravel of the driveway and its grey expression of the darkening day. Rain clouds bulged about where light blue sky once use to peek through, so very sunny and bright; but that had been hours before and no more to be seen. By now it was only drab and dark, and poor Jacob just waits for it to rain. Well actually he didn’t start out that way, only became that way after his waiting grew so very long and hopeless that he could no longer wait for the same thing. He now thought for sure that what he had waited for wasn’t coming, or, if it did, it would indeed be too late. So he began then to wait for something else; just one more terrible thing about waiting, once you start it’s just that much harder to stop.

Jacob was a young boy; not even really ten yet (though nearly there). He was a little short for his age (which he just loved to hear about, by the way), but wasn’t so very short to be mistaken for much younger than he really was, and this he was happy for. His hair was a short and pale brown and it hung limply above his gaze of deep blue. His eyes were the one physical feature of Jacob that really stood out, for when someone might forget his name they usually referred to him as the boy with the bright blue eyes. They didn’t seem so bright now though, as they gazed listlessly out the window. Instead they just sat dreamily within his face specked with freckles.

Jacob turned from the window where his resting head had left two marks by way of his elbows. He looked in enmity about the contents of the room where he stood. First thing he came to was a little blonde boy peering in at him from the edge of the doorway, but he had expected that and just tried to ignore him like he usually did. Over to the rack full of his favorite books his eyes glided, and next to it the couch where he had left a random assortment of toys (many brand new ones) as well as the pirate book he was currently reading, The Great Dark Water. Next, his gaze went to the TV that flashed inaudibly the main menu of a video game, which after hours of play Jacob had finally grown worn of. Then, upon the floor near the television, he glanced at the game console as well as the variety of scattered games all lying in uneven piles on the carpet. Finally, his eyes fell to the end table on the far end of the couch; to a baseball glove which lay there uselessly grasping a baseball, and then to the phone which also sat useless just beside it. There his gaze remained the longest before his face got all scrunched and he had to look up at the ceiling in disgust.

It wasn’t really that Jacob didn’t enjoy these things, for in truth he liked them all quite a lot; well, that is, except for that game his grandmother had bought him (and that is to be expected, as grandmothers are often very inexpert at shopping for video games). Still though, he appreciated the thought, and so he liked them all very well (even the little boy for that matter). It was more the fact that every time he would sit down to take an interest in one of them he would suddenly remember he was waiting for something. He would then drop what he was doing to take a glance out the window, which most assuredly turned into a good long stare.

That is how he had actually gotten to be standing by the window the last time also. He had been in the middle of playing his video game, and he thought he heard a roll of thunder, either that or a car’s engine. When he got to the window his eyes were met with the sight of grey clouds, and he knew right away that it had been thunder he had heard. And just for good measure, a flicker of lightning lit up the distance, as if the clouds were saying, Yes little boy, it was thunder you heard, not a car. Sometimes clouds can be so careless, you know.

Now, we all need the sun, and to most of us it is very obvious why, so I will not explain. But on this particular day Jacob needed the sun a little extra then the rest of us, and now that it was gone and quite near to raining he had lost all his hopes that were once so high.

You see, Jacob’s father doesn’t live with him and his mother. His parents divorced when Jacob was five years old (he is now ten by the way), and as most divorced people do, they live in different houses and don’t see each other as much as they used to. It was his father that Jacob was waiting for; as he had told Jacob that he would come and spend the day with him and his brother Kylie (the little boy at the door), and they would play catch and all sorts of things a father does with a sons. His father not only lived in another house, but as well another city; and even another state for that matter. So being that they didn’t see each other so very often, you can imagine Jacob’s excitement and why his hopes had fallen so far with the approach of the storm.

It might not have been so bad, except for the hole that Jacob had already delved in his heart. So deep it had become by now that it only allowed his hopes to fall that much further. Now, it wasn’t that Jacob’s father was not the nice sort or even a good person in general, but that he was just poor at being a father. This wasn’t the first time he had run late or even not shown when he promised he was going to, and it was for these promises that Jacob had delved that hole in his heart, and why he had so very far to fall when his hopes were let down; at least by his father anyway. Jacob even suspected Kylie had such an incomplete heart as well, only he was too young yet to realize it fully.

You see when you are promised something, if you believe it and then it never comes a little bit of you can be chinked away if you let it, and you usually take it from your heart as it is so strong and can take the most pain. Most of the time, it gets fixed, and sometimes even quite soon. But in cases like Jacob’s, where you are let down so often by the same person (and especially if you love them a lot), the hole you delved the last time reforms and can grow all the deeper.

It might also have to do with the promise that all parents make to their children. Though an unspoken promise (at least in most cases), they are quite often the strongest kind and stick with a person the longest until fulfilled. It is the promise they make to you when you are born (so really, we have all been made this promise). It is the promise that no matter what happens, to them or to you, they will love you and care for you always. It is truly a wonderful promise if you think of it, and really the reason why most parents claim that the births of their children are the happiest days of their lives. Sadly though, not all people keep this promise. Yet those that do, well; they do it with gusto. Jacob’s father though, seems to be of the kind that did not keep his promise, at least in Jacob’s eyes that is. And as does often happen to one who gets so used to having his heart broken by unkept promises; Jacob started to see all promises as broken, as if that was what promises were for. You cannot really blame Jacob for believing this however, for where he was right then was waiting for something that he thought wasn’t coming. At any rate, it is quite a sad topic to speak of, and I should like very much to move on from it. And being that I am telling the story, I certainly shall.

With a huff Jacob was about to turn back around and gaze once more out the window, its glass still stained in mist by his breath. Yet just as he started, he was halted by the voice of his mother. A woman of blonde warmth and slender grace, she quickly darted about the room tidying as she went, feeling very much for her sons. She of course knew about the hole in Jacob’s heart (a sixth sense that only parents have). Kylie had followed her in and was now playing with Jacob’s new toys (which was no end of grief to Jacob, let me tell ya). He just ignored this with a cringe of irritation and a glare at his brother, and instead half-heartedly listened to what his mother was trying to tell him.

She was saying, as she went about hurriedly cleaning, that Jacob should not lose hope, as things might just turn around for him. And truly, they might, but still this was quite difficult to believe, at least for a boy that knew all that Jacob knew. He had already seen this happen a dozen times before, and would not have even been waiting this time had not this day been a special one to him.

You see today, to Jacob, was a very big day. Today he would turn a whole ten years of age (double-digits; he was nearly a man), and though he had gotten all the presents he had wanted and had seen the few friends he had from school, all that he really wanted was for that hole in his heart to be filled up. And to be honest, I quite understand that. I can’t blame him for wanting such a thing. I don’t think anyone truly can, as when you have a hole like Jacob’s, it is really like you are sitting at the bottom of it unable to see anything but its depth or hear anything but the echoes off its walls. He knew that hole better than anyone, and when it’s there, of all the things in the world to want, something to fill your heart is really all there is.

Now I know you were hoping that your father would be here earlier, and that you would get to go to the park with him, his mother began, quite like most mothers begin, as a matter-of-fact (you can always tell when they’re just beginning by that special tone they use), and I know it’s your birthday, but you still can’t just sit around here and sulk because it is not going your way, it just so happened that the exact moment she said this the rain began to slowly fall. This wasn’t her fault of course, but it didn’t make Jacob any more enthusiastic about what she was telling him, that’s for sure.

Now I’m just saying, the busy lady continued, as the boy at the window turned about to stare, with eyes blazing, off into the newly pouring clouds, that if you want something good to happen, it is just like anything in life, you have to go out and get it; make it happen. You can’t just sit around and mope about how things are not working out the way you want; that just does no good, really, she rambled on, picking up a magazine from off the television and dusting beneath it, making those static popping noises that happen as you dust a TV when its running. Carrying on, she swiftly put away the magazine and wiped Kylie’s nose, all in one motion, as if he were just another part of the room that needed cleaned. Jacob just sat there, half ignoring her, drearily staring from his place by the window at the day while it wasted away; it doing so with every drop that fell. Soon it looked like nothing more than a painting with running colors.

His mother paused a second, and stared tenderly at her son as he looked out the window, knowing full well his disappointment. She did not realize it then, or else she would not have held so much sorrow in her gaze, but Jacob could see her reflection in the window and knew that gaze was as sad as his own. Too many times before he had seen his mother’s eyes like that; her being disappointed for him. Things were not easy on her either, and he knew this very well.

She had two children to raise all on her own. They were good kids (when they weren’t getting into trouble, and Kylie being six was nothing but), and Jacob did everything he could to help his mother out. This was the reason he had so few good friends, as he rarely invited any over, and so was rarely invited in retur. His mother had actually sprung this party on him, for he would have told her he didn’t need a party if she would have asked. He would do this to save his mother the stress of having to care for the other children, drive them around, feed them, and such. They were always strapped for cash anyways, and though his mother worked very hard to remedy this, Jacob didn’t feel that adding another mouth at the table would really help matters. He really didn’t mind this so much after all. He was good enough at being solitary; though not great at it by any means, but he managed. He got to see the other kids at school almost daily, and just did his best to be friendly then. In this way he felt that he was friends with everybody he knew, even if they weren’t all friends with him.

But worse than their money problems or than the trouble he and his brother might get into, Jacob’s mother hurt every time he hurt and this was sometimes more than he could bear. He still remembered the day when he was a very young boy and his mother and father had spoken of divorce over the phone. His mother was crying tears into the receiver, unable to stop. Too many times he had seen his mother shed tears, and it seemed that at those times the hole in his heart felt deepest; it seemed that he hurt when she hurt as well.

Still, what his mother was saying was right after all; sulking would do no good. But just as most children really do (and many adults for that matter) Jacob knew well that he could do better, yet still he remained stubborn in his idleness, choosing not to listen. Instead he would wait for the sunshine to come to him, his dad to show; the day to please him…

So come on then, it’s sure to be a warm rain, his mother picked up after the short delay, we’re getting your galoshes on, and you’re going to go out have some good old fashioned fun.

O joy, replied Jacob with a lackluster breath upon the glass, "sounds real fun," he could be wickedly sarcastic at times, which was sometimes a point of pride to his mother, while at others, quite a scary notion.

Now usually Jacob was a rather rambunctious boy, full of life and energy, and not needing to be told to go outside and play. He did it all too well without instruction. Today though, it seemed that the hole in his heart had grown a little deeper, and climbing out of it looked to be a very daunting task indeed. His mother just seemed to ignore his sarcasm as the type of thing one says when they don’t really want to talk, and pressed forward unyielding, Come on; let’s get you in your rain jacket.

With that said Jacob found himself cast in rubber clothing, and standing within the endlessly falling rain. There really was no use in arguing with her. For one thing she was right, though her methods may be questionable, I guess. For another, Jacob had long ago learned that his mother had a way of persuasion that far surpassed any other he knew. And so here he was, no sooner had she mentioned it than he was outside in the rain.

From the yellow electric lit window of his house his mother waved at him with a smile, merely saying now don’t get too far away, before closing the window and letting drop the curtain, to go about her business of cleaning something that had been basically immaculate to begin with; and off went Jacob, to deal with a real mess.

Chapter 2

The Journey

Rain pattered on Jacob and his yellow rain coat as he scanned his memorized horizons with the very same look of contempt he had on when he was inside. Everywhere around the boy, precipitation rushed down in a steady stream like lengthy grey lines from the sky to the ground connecting them as if a child’s mobile to a ceiling. ‘Why couldn’t the sun just be out, and this rain be long gone? AND WHERE’S DAD?’ all this the boy thought quite loudly inside his head, as if it were all an echoing shout from deep within that dreary hole in his heart.

Now, if you are thinking it quite careless of Jacob’s mother to have sent him out into the rain, you truly must not; as a woman of vast wisdom she really is (though to be honest, Jacob and his brother really do their best to keep her on her toes). She had spoken quite correctly about it being a warm rain, for it most surely was. The day had previously been a rather hot one in any case, and much of that heat had so far remained. As well, it was not a hard or terrible rain by any means, falling quite lazily instead. It was perfect for playing in, and she knew this. The best adults, after all, remember the wisdoms of their childhood. She had even taken care to distract Kylie with a cartoon beforehand, as he would have certainly wanted to follow his big brother outside, an event Jacob would not have cared for in the slightest. It was this kind of stuff that made her so very wise, knowing the perfect times to play and when her son needed to have some time to himself. Now whether Jacob knew this or not was a totally different story. He just began the whole venture sulkily, acting more as if it was his mother trying to anger him or punish him rather than help him.

So down the drive Jacob was soon kicking about on his way to the country road he called ‘his street,’ slowly taking to it with apathy as well as distrust for the where and why he was there. From one pool of rain to the next he would stomp with great exaggeration, splashing higher and higher their contents and proceeding further along their familiar path, only his frustration and deliberate boredom pressing onward with him. He wouldn’t look around. He wouldn’t look up. He wouldn’t see the fun he might have been having. He wouldn’t even allow himself to notice the beauty that was the undulating wet green scene he was walking through. No, instead he just kept his eyes to the ground and to the grey gravel that resided there, watching each step get further and farther from home, until they finally carried him completely out of its sight; and it completely out of his.

It was in this way that he came upon a stick sitting in the middle of the road. It was a somewhat lengthy limb, yet not at all too long for a boy of Jacob’s size to handle. And even though it was slender and wet, it remained quite sturdy, which is a good thing as far as sticks go. There were no other stems hanging off of it, and except for one tiny knot about a quarter of the way up it the branch was as sheer as could be.

Now to you or I, that may have been no big deal, but to a young boy such as Jacob, it was quite nearly a piece of art. You see, the fact is that boys of that age are great scrutinizers of such things as sticks and rocks, connoisseurs if you will. They know just which stones are the best for throwing and which are the best for skipping, as well as which sticks are good ones and which are bad ones. To a boy of Jacob’s age, a stick could be a special thing. It could be just the object that breaks through the boredom of a bad day, cuts down the monotony, and lifts ones heart; a stick could be a branch off into another place entirely.

A certain stick could be a good pretend hammer or pretend axe, while another, a good pretend rifle. There were ones that worked as staves, and some that were perfect swords; if put into the right hands and imagination that is. It could make you a whole other person if you wanted it to. This one was most definitely a good stick. It was actually perfect for an assortment of many different things, which was just another earmark of a good stick.

Now though Jacob was not really in the highest of spirits, he was also not one to pass up such a perfect stick as this. To do so would seem to be a failure on his part; heck, it would be a total disregard for his duties as a kid. So picking it up, he began walking with it, swishing it and swinging it around, tapping it on the road or else hung within the yellow belt of his rubber rain coat like a sword in a scabbard.

Jacob by now had walked much further than he was really supposed to, and though he did know right where he was, he also knew that was too far away. He had pretty much given up on watching and waiting for the arrival of his father, and so, to him, it didn’t really matter anymore how far he was going; he wasn’t going to see his father pull up anyhow. Actually, the idea of running away had even fallen into his mind. He wasn’t going to by any means, only just thought about it, as if he really might, ‘and then they would all know what it’s like. Then they would all see how it is.’

He imagined his mother’s face as she told his father how he had run away. He could hear his mother just saying that it wouldn’t have happened if they just hadn’t gotten divorced, had just stayed married. He could see his father sad about his son being gone, and asking if they were to remarry, if that would bring Jacob back. His mother would say yes, and they would all be one happy family again, yet still he knew it was no use. ‘They don’t care,’ he thought to himself, ‘they probably wouldn’t even miss me.’ And so onward he went.

As you can see, poor Jacob’s thoughts had turned to thinking that everyone was against him. Like his father had not come just to make him feel bad, and his mother had sent him outside just to torture him. As if both of them were sitting in their homes grinning over their brilliant plans, while scheming up others just as cruel.

He truly knew they weren’t at all like this, but sometimes, when you’re young, you think that it feels good to act as if the whole world is out to get you. You do it so that when you grow up and realize that really it’s not just after you, but really out to get everyone, you can feel as if you learned something from the whole experience of living. And what is it that you really learn? You can’t run away from the world.

All this type of thinking went on for an extended amount of time as he continued on, lost in thought. With the rain still falling Jacob walked indolently, sauntering beneath a series of dripping trees and passed some barking dogs that watched him from within a fenced in a