End of the Rainbow

By Damian Miller

His entire life Alexander has felt the world was always against him, but this summer was supposed to be different now that he was old enough to take drivers-education. Unfortunately his parents had other plans in mind that will turn his life upside-down.
Alexander is sent to the last place he ever imagined that he'd spend a summer and in that magical place he discovers an ancient legend that will change his life forever. Swept into a whirlwind of self-discovery, Alexander realizes that he might know far less about the world than he was willing to believe and finds his life changed forever. Follow Alexander upon his journey as he discovers what lies at the end of the rainbow.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Damian Miller
• Release date: Sep 7, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311734310

Damian Miller

Damian was born in Indianapolis to parents who had absolutely no idea what they were about to get themselves into with me; he's an adventurer and a student of the humanities who has earned an Eagle Scout, and hold a master's degree in global history and bachelors of arts degrees in anthropology (archaeology and ethnography) and history. Suffering from an incurable case of fernweh, Damian has walked across Spain on the Camino de Santiago (Way of St. James) pilgrimage (and across Portugal for a second pilgrimage) and have traveled extensively internationally and domestically (Egypt, Ireland, and Turkey to name a few counties). This scoundrel has worked in a variety of diverse fields throughout his life, including lifeguarding/emergency response, teaching, and archaeology.

Book preview

END OF THE RAINBOW

By Damian Shaun Miller

Other novels and series by Damian Miller:

Walking Off the Edge of the World with Both Eyes Open:

an American on the Camino de Santiago

(upcoming non-fiction travel-adventure)

The Nephilim's Curse:

The Grigori's Heart

Priest of Burning Sands (coming soon)

The Diary Writer's Chronicle:

The Zombie's Diary

The Diary's Zombie

The Custodian's Key (coming soon)

End of the Rainbow

By Damian Miller

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2014 Damian Miller

Original Copyright 2010 Damian Miller

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

Dedication

Prelude

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

About the Author

Dedication

I would like to dedicate this book to a wide variety of individuals:

My family, my parents and grandparents in particular, for encouraging me to be myself; no matter how frustrated you got at me you let me grow into the man I am today.

My great friends Jodi, Matt, and Mike, who saw me through this first book, their insights were crucial and their encouragement needed for this leap of faith in a time I needed it the most.

Felicity for her insights into the last bit of work I did for the cover and the summary for this book.

Finally to every camp councilor or staffer whose accomplishments often go unrewarded but are always needed. I know firsthand how thank-less this job can be, but you did it because it was the right thing to do and countless individuals are better people because of that.

Thank you.

Prelude:

Present

Standing within the sheltered grove of ancient oak trees reminds me of so much of what I have gained and lost in my life. The falling leaves drifting about my head in a flurry of color, the reds seem redder, the yellows brighter, the oranges bolder, and all the colors of the fall which have this mystical effect upon my soul which I cannot explain. Times like these always affects me so, the remembrance of the heartache and longing to visit the heroes gone by, to chat with a good friend that I have not been able to speak with for many, many long and interesting years. Within this sheltered grove of trees I remember that one summer so long ago, of running and laughing under cerulean skies and learning about the true meaning of life, learning of the end of the rainbow.

It has been ten long years since I have seen my friend Mouse, my teacher in the secret meaning of life. Under the blazing summer skies, upon those crystal waters of White Lake, I spent that summer ten years ago living in the one place that I did not want to be. Fate has a strange way of gaining your attention fairly quickly even if you do not realize what is going on. I have learned from Fate that what I want is not always what I need, or what has to happen.

Living in a small town where everyone knows who you are, growing up can be the most frustrating thing that anyone can possibly live through, especially if their entire goal in high school is to fade into the back of the crowd. After my freshman year of high school, my parents decided that for my own good I should go and live at a summer camp for the next two months. Two long months sweating away under the blazing sun in a mosquito infested woodland swamp, an unjust and cruel prison term at that age when I could have been learning to drive a car like the rest of my age group.

My parents kept repeating the same tired litany over and over again, Alexander, you have the rest of my life to learn how to drive a car, but camp would help you build character and personality. I always questioned why I needed more character and personality, but my parents had developed an equally frustrating response to that question with, Those things you rarely have a chance to build upon, so enjoy yourself. I believed my parents at that time had been listening too long to my guidance councilor at school.

I pleaded and begged to my parents, threw a tantrum and raved, but it did me no good what-so-ever, my prison term in purgatory would commence soon. My parents and the guidance councilor figured for a teenager at my age it would be unbecoming to spend my summer at home locked within my room, so I was packed to go within week.

My younger brothers, both highly intelligent to a fault and equally egotistical, craved the idea of going to camp to expand on their vast repertoire of skills to make my life as miserable as possible. It is never easy being fifteen and having two younger siblings described as perfect. Nor, is it easy living with younger siblings who attend the same high school classes with you, especially when you are a freshman and when they are in middle school. On top of all of that my two younger brothers would bring home perfect grades without even trying, and I was just getting by in the same advanced level classes.

At least my parents had the foresight to realize that sending all three of the boys to the same summer camp would have been a bad idea, to say the least. I gave them that much credit towards my summer not being totally ruined by that point. Until that precise moment, my only salvation for this summer was that my brothers were going to different camps, but for better camps than what I had to attend. One was going to go to space camp and the other one to a computer camp all summer long, to learn about those things that would interest their easily bored intellect and perception of self-worth, which in that they rank themselves far above my level.

Two months away from my brothers trying to command my life because they believe that they have this mystical ability to know what is best for me would be a small relief. This fact brought me some limited satisfaction which was offset by how I was to suffer through the summer making billfolds, eating camp food, and learning to craft necklaces out of elbow macaroni and plastic beads.

This is just how I wanted to spend my summer, upon the glorious banks of the Green Pines Summer Camp, sweating underneath a blazing sun with the nearest air conditioner a hundred miles away and being eaten alive by every creeping and crawling insect that inhabits this earth. The idea of being the main course on the mosquito and ticks’ all-you-can-eat Alex buffet soured my mood even further that last week in the comforts of home. During my last few days of relative comfort I slowly packed for what I believed, and now know, as the longest summer of my life.

Chapter One

Week One, Sunday about Noon

The hard, cold rain beating down upon the tin roof of the ancient bus I was riding in reminded me of an erratic heartbeat as the bus finally puttered into the muddy and chuckhole ridden gravel road that led to the camp. The dreary grey sky acted like a mirror to my bleak and depressed soul, and the crushing thunder the punctuation to my currently hopeless and tortured existence. As the bus finally parked in front of the flagpoles at camp, I caught sight of my prison for the next two months of my short life.

Hanging back, I was purposely the last one to file off of the bus to the feel of the rough, damp gravel crunching underneath my feet. I slowly grouped up with everyone beneath the shelter of the camp office where a lanky camp councilor was giving a speech on the history of the camp. I held back and watched the ice-cold rain drip off of my glasses and my raggedly cut brown hair until we began to go on a tour of what he called ‘up-top,’ the central most part of the camp which held the parking lot and the dining hall which sat upon the top of the great hill where you could look down to White Lake below to the east. Also up-top was the small health lodge which looked more like a beat up cabin built back when the pioneers fist settled the valley laid directly to the far west of the parking lot near the camper showers, and the camp directors cabin attached to the trading post and the camp office in a sort of clunky mess to the top of the large field offset by the flagpoles which seemed to soar upwards forever.

Standing within rapidly accumulating puddles of water, we slowly went from one place to place as we were given the tour of the rest of the camp. Walking downward towards the lake, our guide was describing to us the four-camp competition which would happen at the end of the summer, as we walked past the handicraft shelter, the muddy trail to the horse corral, and the small woodland chapel area just down the road. We passed the Running Dog campsite, and the Snowy Owl site, and then farther down to the Deer Meadow campsite and then the large field with the newly constructed rifle range and archaic archery range past that on the right.

After crossing a small concrete bridge over a small ravine, we wound back down towards the lake passing several other campsites with equally creative names such as Turtle’s Pass, Lookout Point, Oak Stand, Beaver Dam, before finally stopping at my campsite, River Rat Point, the very last campsite before the giant hill leading down to the lake and the swimming and boating docks. The farthest from everything in camp, this was turning out to be such fun already, I thought sarcastically.

We unpacked everything in our tents as the icy afternoon rain began to finally let up. After the last few drops of rain finally hit the saturated earth, a camp councilor told the entire campsite that was present to change into our swim trunks within our tents, and then make our way down to the waterfront below. I did not realize as I walked down to the waterfront I would be diving into fate head first.

♦

Fate, if you believe in such insubstantial forces, can be very strange with life sometimes, and how it plays with your life in ways we cannot even guess at. Sitting down upon the rain slickened hill, we listened to a tanned lifeguard talk about the rules and regulations of the lake, from where we can swim to what classes were being offered. My ears perked up at the mention of a lifesaving class, it sounded like it could be interesting for at least a little while during this summer. I had swum on the middle school swim team back home, so why not just lay upon a dock all summer getting a tan? At least it sounded like a good idea to me.

With the warming sun beginning to beat down mercilessly upon my pale back, I followed the rest of my campsite down to the weathered wooden docks below. Feeling the sun warmed boards of the dock slick underneath my feet, I followed in a lemming like manner until we all suddenly stopped. Standing at the end of the dock were six bronze lifeguards, their deep tans seemed to soak up all the sun around them. One by one we were taken and given our swimming tests, a simple hundred yards around the inside curve of the H-framed dock that we were standing upon. Each and every camper had their turn until they finally came to me at the end of our line.

So ya ready for your swimming test? Standing before me, holding a long reach pole easily within his calloused hands stood a young lifeguard, barely older than me by a few years. He couldn’t be more than seventeen by the sound of his voice, but the combination of the sun and the responsibility of his job made him seem much older.

He was the least tan out of the all the lifeguards I had seen yet, but he was still tanned, but it just seemed that being tan was one of the last things his skin wanted to do. His face was fairly unremarkable in itself, a smallish sort of nose and hazel eyes with smile lines already beginning to form even at his young age. Long brown hair seemed to flow off of his head down to his shoulders, and two thin braids running down the left and right side of his face, framing it. With a casual flip of his hand he threw the right braid back behind his ear, where is stayed just for a moment before falling back down into his face.

Yeah, I said with an unenthusiastic shrug, just wanting this silly test to be over with.

Holding out his right hand, my tanned guard shakes my hand firmly, My name is Mouse and glad you’re here this summer. What’s your name?

My name is Alexander.

Glad to meet you Alex. You understand the test?

Yeah I do, seems easy enough.

Well good, let’s get this over with then so you can have some fun, as he waived his hand towards the water like a maître d' showing a patron to their table.

Sure. Whatever.

Jumping into the water was like jumping from a hot plate into the ice box. As I surfaced, the cold clear water lapped around my still form, holding me tight within the water. Beginning to swim with practiced strokes, I made my way around the docks fairly quickly doing a freestyle stroke most of the way but I showed off a bit at the last quarter of the test by swimming a butterfly stroke that I used to compete in during swim season.

Not bad at all, Alex, as Mouse reached down with his hand to help me out of the water.

Thanks, that was the only words out of my mouth as the young lifeguard helped me out of the water onto the slick dock.

Very impressive butterfly stroke you did there at the end, where did you learn it?

I learned it in my middle school swim team, before I moved onto high school.

Do you swim for the high school team at all?

Shrugging my dripping shoulders I replied, Nah, it is just full of jocks and jerks anyways.

Well that’s a shame. Hey, did you hear about the lifesaving course we were offering?

Yeah, I kind of heard of it, as I looked towards the shore for any sort of escape.

Leaning upon the plastic reach-pole like a solid oak tree, Mouse smiled and continued, Well with your skill in swimming, I don’t see why you wouldn’t do well in the course. Why don’t you sign up for it after your first meal in the dinning hall?

Sure, why not? I have nothing better to do this summer and it beats making necklaces out of beads.

Excellent! I am sure you will have a good time.

So, do you know who the councilor is who will be teaching the class?

That one is easy, it is me. I’ll see you after dinner at the sign-ups.

Thanks…I think, as I slowly ambled off the docks to get my swimming tag for the summer.

♦

An hour later after waiting in a long line near the waterfront gate to get my swimmer’s tag with my name and swim level on it, I made my way back to the campsite soaking wet, a puddle forming around my feet as I dried off outside of my olive green canvas tent. Stepping inside my tent, I noticed that someone else had put their gear on the opposite side of the tent while I was gone. I changed quickly into a tee-shirt and shorts, slipping on my new pair of boots outside and finished by hanging my wet trunks and towel on the tent frame.

I mindlessly wandered around the campsite to see if any of the others had made it back to the site yet. Like flies attracted to honey, the rest of my campsite started filtering in, each soaking wet to the bone. I decided to wait for my tent mate by sitting on a shaky picnic table out in the clearing in front of my tent.

Wandering up slowly from the waterfront, a small boy barely old enough to be at the camp all summer walked up to the tent, his face hidden behind a pair of large glasses that more resembled glass bottles on plastic frames than the prescription eye-wear that I wore. Standing just less than four and a half feet tall, the young boy shuffled towards the entrance of the tent and stops as he regards me sitting on the table looking at him.

Do you live in this tent too? he asked meekly, after he mustered enough courage to do so.

Yeah I do, as I shrugged and held out my hand for a handshake, the name is Alexander, but my friends call me Alex.

Hi Alex, I’m Geoffrey, as he took my offered hand, I hope you don’t mind me moving into the tent with you, no one else wanted to bunk with me for the summer.

It is no problem, Jeff.

Thanks, I appreciate it. My parents sent me here this summer because they thought I needed some fresh air, as the young boy slowly