The Adventures of Laurence Tipple

By Simon Malivoire

Recently deceased teenager, Laurence Tipple, is crestfallen to find out that he does not automatically qualify for a journey through the Tunnel of Light and into Heaven. To book his journey, Laurence must successfully complete a mission to remove lifely indiscretions.
But his mission is a toughy. Laurence is horrified to learn that he is to rescue Maxwell Cope - the school bully - from the oppressive clutches of The FALLEN; wretched creatures that thrive on misery.
Can Laurence overcome The FALLEN and rescue Cope from their clutches? The stakes are high. If he fails, then a journey through the Tunnel of Light to Heaven is off the table. Enslavement by The FALLEN and an eternity in the Dark Place is a very real possibility.
And what about Laurence’s mum? Devastated at the death, of her son, Mum’s heart is closed to the possibility of a life beyond life. A closed heart makes mum vulnerable to The FALLEN. What can Laurence do to let her know that he is still here – that all is not lost? That life does indeed go on.
There is only one thing we can be certain. Laurence is about to embark on the most exciting and dangerous adventure of his...life (and death).

• Language: English
• Publisher: Simon Malivoire
• Release date: Jun 23, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301691661

Book preview

The Adventures of Laurence Tipple

By SJ Malivoire

Smashwords Edition

The Adventures of Laurence Tipple

By SJ Malivoire

Copyright 2013 SJ Malivoire

Smashwords Edition

For Janey. Always.

Table of Contents

The Arrival

Liberated

Tunnel of Light

Pixie

Maxwell Cope

DPS (you don’t want to know what it stands for)

The Kind Lady

Cope’s dad

Curlywurlys

Triple A

The funeral of Laurence Tipple

Emma

Emma vs Pixie

Laurence and the Burglars

Blue Christmas

The pill of invisibility

The Trapped Prayer

The Portal Viewer

Visionaries

Showdown

The Lady in the Photo

Saved

Ambushed

The Tunnel of Light

The Arrival

When Laurence Tipple opened his eyes and saw that he was standing at the end of a hospital bed gazing down at himself, he knew that this was like no other dream that he had had before.

He had some very strange dreams over the last week or so, of faraway places and nice friendly people he had never met before, and yet, at the same time, had the feeling he had known them very well all along.

But here, standing at the end of a hospital bed looking at his own self - it felt much more…real than any of his other dreams.

Perhaps I’m dead, Laurence thought.

The notion, although not overly pleasant, was not a particularly surprising one either. He was sick, after all. When he was readmitted to the hospital two weeks ago, he knew he was nearing the end. Mum did too, though she never actually admitted that to him. Mum was a real trouper. Because she was being brave, Laurence felt compelled to be so also. But it was difficult. He knew he was dying. He could feel it inside. His body was shutting down, succumbing to the Leukaemia that had plagued him over the last 6 months.

Laurence did not want to die.

It frightened him.

But I’m not frightened now, Laurence decided. And that was strange, because, considering where he was and what he could see, you would forgive him for feeling terrified.

Laurence drew closer to himself. He knelt down for a better inspection. He was staring at the same face that peered back at him in the mirror for the last 13 years. Although he once had been handsome (if he did say so himself) – the cancer had taken its toll. He had not looked in the mirror over the last few weeks – what was the point? – and was now taken aback by his own self’s appearance. The face was pale and waxy – his once wavy blond hair was now sparse and wispy; a result of the aggressive chemotherapy treatment.

He looked 80, not 13.

Laurence felt a moment of sadness, but he quickly brushed it away. When the cancer first stepped up and introduced itself, Laurence decided right then that he was not going to mope – he certainly was not going to start now.

Now that he was dead?

But if he was dead – then why was he here? His eyes flickered over to the book on the bedside cabinet. Angels watch over me. It was a great book – one that he had read cover to cover over the last week. He knew sections of it off by heart. Particularly the section -"what happens to us when we die?" It talked of tunnels of light. Familiar loving faces, exciting journeys –

- but not this.

This has to be another dream, Laurence told himself. Otherwise where was the tunnel of light – the familiar loving faces? And what about –

A sudden noise distracted him. A horrible, horrible, voice.

TIPPLEEEEEEEE

The sound was a whispered shriek; a gargly and burbling noise. It came from somewhere outside of the room. Laurence felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end.

It had used his name.

It knew he was here.

Laurence turned away from the bed and himself, and crossed the room. The door was slightly ajar as usual. Laurence peered through the gap and into the corridor, another part of the hospital he knew intimately. He had been wheeled up and down its floors more times than he could count. From this position, Laurence could see NHS posters adorning the walls. He could see the notice board as well. His photograph with the ward nurses was up there somewhere.

Everything seemed to be in its place.

The look of normality beyond the door, along with the notion that perhaps he had imagined that sound, provided Laurence with enough confidence to step through the doorway.

His room was at the end of the corridor. Just a few yards to his right was a set of double doors leading on to another corridor that eventually led to the mortuary. To his left was the business end, so to speak. He could see the nurses’ station. Dim lights set around the front desk. He could see Nurse Mary. She was reading a book. It all looked perfectly normal.

TIPPLEEEEE

Laurence cried out in surprise. That grim noise came again, only this time it sounded a great deal closer than before.

At the end of the corridor – the far end, just a little past the nurses’ station – lights went out. Laurence watched on as a veil of darkness crept forward, gobbling up all the light as it advanced.

TIPPLEEEEEE

He could see something moving around in the darkness. A huge form that shuffled slowly forward.

Laurence felt rigid with fear.

The darkness continued to creep along the corridor, snuffing out the light. Now it was almost upon the nurses’ station.

Watch out! Laurence called out to Nurse Mary.

TIPPLEEEEE

The darkness moved forward still. It now dragged the nurses’ station into its void. Laurence hoped that Nurse Mary was okay. He did not hear her scream. He wanted to check, but his legs were nowhere near brave enough to push him in that direction. Instead, he turned and headed the other way. Quickly. Whatever it was that was moving around in the darkness was not pleasant. It did not take a rocket scientist to work that out. It also did not take him long to work out that if caught by the darkness, the outcome would not be good.

Was this just a nightmare? Or was there something far more sinister – far more real going on? If he was dead – and that was something that seemed far more plausible than just a dream – then the presence of this darkness, and the scary voice did not bode well. Was he destined to hell? Had he really been that bad?

He was not going to hang around to find out. Laurence turned on his heels, and quickly headed off down the corridor. He was not running, not exactly, but he was moving with a certain amount of gusto. He reached the double doors at the end of the corridor. When he tried to push them open, his hand disappeared straight through the door! Laurence did not have time to give this too much thought as he could feel the darkness getting closer still. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the shadows creep along the wall. When he next paid mind to his whereabouts, he realised that he was now standing on the other side of the doors. How had that happened?

TIPLEEEEE

Never mind. He had more important things to be worrying about. That creepy voice was now much closer to him than before. Laurence had a horrible feeling that if it caught him – if it sucked him into the darkness – things would get very bad for him indeed.

This now was a long straight corridor with a set of double doors at the end. He knew perfectly well where those doors led to, thanks to his chats with Henry, a hospital porter. Henry often talked of how he had to wheel dead people to the mortuary. His stories were pretty creepy; he even reckoned the room itself was haunted.

How could it not be with all those dead folks in there? Henry had said.

Laurence tried to push these thoughts away, and hurried along to the end of the corridor. He risked a quick glance over his shoulder. The darkness was close behind; something still moved from within.

TIPPLEEEEE

The doors leading into the mortuary were open. Laurence headed straight through. The room was lit up in a bright fluorescent light. It was cold in here too. Laurence knew that this was to prevent the bodies from rotting and smelling. Thanks a bunch, Henry!

The room was deceptively large. A selection of temporary coffins – chillers, Henry had called them – stood against the length of the far wall. There were a number of gurneys in the room as well.

Some were empty. Others had white cloth drawn over them. It did not take a genius to work out what was underneath.

TIPPLEEEEE

Even the bright lights in the mortuary could not withstand the incoming darkness. They faltered – blinked – and was then swallowed whole.

Laurence stood in total darkness.

He knew he was not alone.

That thing was somewhere in this room.

Got to hide, Laurence thought.

He started to back away, holding out his hands to help navigate around the room. He was surprised that he did not bump into a gurney as there was quite a few of them littered around. Then he remembered how his hand passed effortlessly through the door in the corridor, as though it was not there at all. Was the same thing happening here? Was he walking straight through gurneys? Straight through dead bodies?

Yuck!

Gross!

TIPPLEEEEE

Out of the corner of his eye, Laurence saw something move.

TIPPLEEEEE

It was moving toward him.

Laurence had no idea what to do, and so he remained perfectly still. It was not the best of ideas, but it was all he could think of. Besides, where would he go? How could he possibly hide from this thing?

TIPPLEEEEE

The voice was so close now, just a few feet away. He could see an outline of a figure towering over him. He thought he could see a cloak and a hood, and from within the hood, two beads of yellow lights staring out at him. He did not take his gaze away from the beads of yellow light, and as he looked into them, Laurence could feel his resistance waver.

TIPPLEEEEE

COMEEEEE

The desire to get up and join that thing – that thing with yellow eyes – was great. So great in fact, that Laurence took a step forward toward it.

It was then that he felt a pair of hands squeeze his shoulders. Laurence cried out in surprise.

Do not move, lad, a voice said. "Do not move an inch. Even if you want to. Especially if you want to."

TIPPLEEEEE

Wait there, the voice said.

Laurence felt someone move, and then, quite suddenly, the room was awash with light once more. The source of light was a fireball that sat in a hand. Laurence watched, mesmerised, as the hand lifted the fireball upward. The darkness shrieked. It was an awful, awful sound, and Laurence had to cover his ears. The hand holding the fireball drew back and threw the ball of light into the darkness. It left a glittery trail as it travelled. The darkness continued to shriek, but when the fireball hit its target the shriek turned to a high-pitched wail.

Silence. The darkness vanished, and the light returned. Everything was back to normal. All at once, Laurence saw the owner of the hand. He was a large fat man, wearing a pinstriped suit that stretched across his belly. His hair was silver, as was his huge moustache. He was dusting down his hands, muttering to himself. Then he turned, saw Laurence, and smiled.

Laurence Tipple? The man asked.

Laurence nodded a little uncertainly.

Yes. That’s me.

The man smile widened. Good. We have been expecting you.

Liberated

For a moment Laurence was dumbstruck.

What the bloody hell happened there? He cried, finally finding his voice.

The man who stood before him - the fat man with the silver hair and moustache - let out a friendly chuckle. Laurence frowned and then took a few seconds to study him closely. He was rubbish at putting an age to people; anyone over 20 was old as far as Laurence was concerned. If he had to guess then he would have said this man was at least 10 years older than mum. Mum was 38, and so this guy must be pushing on for 50 or so. Everything about him seemed a little… weird. The suit that he wore was like no other than Laurence had seen before.

What? He said, looking down at his attire and then back to Laurence again.

Nothing, Laurence said with a shrug. "It’s just… well, I’ve never seen a suit like that before."

It was not only his suit – which was brown with white stripes – that made it so peculiar, but the shirt and the tie too. The shirt was bright orange. It had long and pointed collars. The tie was probably the worst that Laurence had seen. It was ugly; silver with swirly patterns. Laurence figured that if you looked at it too long it would send your eyes goggly.

I have you know that during my time this suit was the height of fashion.

Laurence pulled a face. You’re kidding?

Nope.

Blimey.

The man frowned. Anyway, we’re not here to discuss my attire. I’ve come here to collect you.

Collect me?

Yes. The man held out his hand. My name is John. My friends call me Pops. He looked at Laurence and smiled. You can call me Pops.

Okay, Pops, Laurence said. He paused and then said, You said that you were expecting me?

That’s right, Pops agreed. We always know when to expect new arrivals. As do The FALLEN as you have just found out.

Laurence shuddered when he remembered his close call. "What the hell was that thing?" he asked.

Pops stroked his moustache for a moment. We’ll get to that, but first, we need to start with the basics. He paused and then said, Laurence Tipple… you’re dead.

Laurence pulled a face. You think?

I do not think, Pops replied haughtily. I know.

Laurence sighed. Typical oldie; did not get sarcasm.

Well, I kind of figured that out, Laurence said.

Now that’s not entirely true, is it? Pops said. At one stage, you had yourself believing that your experience was another dream.

You know about that? Laurence said, genuinely surprised.

Pops nodded. Of course.

It’s true, Laurence admitted. For a while I was thinking this was a dream. But that’s only because I have been having some pretty strange ones recently.

Of meeting people whom you had never met before, but felt like you have known them your entire life, Pops said, wiggling his eyebrows knowingly.

That’s right, Laurence said, a little tetchily. Pops sure seemed to know a lot.

Well I can tell you that they were not dreams at all.

You mean that actually happened?

Yes, Pops said.

So those people who I met were real?

As real as you or I.

But, I thought you said that I’m dead.

Pops nodded. As a door nail.

Then I’m not real, am I?

I would argue that you are now more real than prior to your Liberation. Everyone experiences a pre-Liberation pep-talk. Some remember this event. Most do not. The pep-talk is essential, so when Liberation occurs the shock to the recently departed is not as great as it could be.

What’s Liberation? Laurence asked.

It’s a word we prefer to use.

Whose ‘we’? Laurence said.

Pops frowned once more. Laurence could see Pops did not have a lot of time for teenagers – dead or not. He recognised the look on his face. It was the same that most of the teachers used at school – and most parents, come to that.

"You certainly have a lot of questions,