The Lorn Tree: Arboregal, #1

By D.G. Sandru

An experiment in a weird book causes four young Americans, Nathan, Perry, Melissa, and Michelle to appear in an incredibly strange and desolate world. Trees as large as mountains, scattered across the land like oases, support all life, safe from the monsters that patrol the night fog on the ground. Races of people living in medieval societies populate the giant trees. Known as the Lorns in this particular tree, they welcome the four kids into their world—until Hellferata, the evil spirit descendent of Medusa, intrudes upon their beloved tree. Full of vivid imagery and unbridled creativity, D. G. Sandru’s debut is as a mystical journey of enchantment, courage and the power of friendship. As the kids search for a way home, Hellferata searches for the prophesized mortal superhero she must battle to the death. Suspecting Michelle for this golden-haired superhero, Hellferata sends her son, Dracu Mort, into the Lorn Tree to kill her. Fearful of the evil spirit the Lorns move to expel the four Americans from their tree. Thinking quickly, the kids devise a plan to avoid the monsters roaming the land and travel to the next tree, where it is rumored there may be a path back home. Will their ingenuity, cunning, and courage help them make it to the Cascade Tree and find a way home, or will Hellferata and Dracu Mort mete out their wrath before they can escape? A dramatic and heroic escape into a world full of excitement and danger, Sandru brings to life a beautiful landscape dramatically different than our own yet living from the same heartbeat. Imparting the inspiring message that fear is but a passing foil and love is the true answer, Arboregal: The Lorn Tree is a spiritual quest of hope and friendship that exposes the inherent power we all share.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chivileri Publishing
• Release date: Jan 8, 2015
• ISBN: 9780983669517

Book preview

Chapter 1–An Omen in Transylvania

Today, Michelle was finally going back home. Yes, she enjoyed her summer vacation at her grandparents’ in Transylvania, but she missed her home, Mom and Dad, her older sister, Melissa, her room, and her friends. Even Perry and Nathan, AKA the Peanut Boys, occasionally crossed her mind, but only for very short periods of time.

Before departing, she wanted to pet the fawns one more time. She looked across the meandering mountain river and spotted the deer herd in the lush, green meadow. They were grazing happily and contentedly on this sunny morning. The fawns were not afraid of her and were happy to eat from her hand. She needed to stop at the outdoor tourist market under Dracula Castle’s hill, just ahead on the path, and buy a bag of salted peanuts for them. As she approached the market, the sunlight seemed to dim. The colors of the pine trees, the flowers, and even the sky turned dull and gray. She gazed up, but there were no clouds in the sky. She rubbed her eyes to clear them, but it did not help.

Up on the hill, the usual mist that hovered over the cemetery surrounding the castle seemed to be thicker than she had seen it in the past few weeks. The castle, with its square towers and many spires, seemed foreboding, like a monstrous thing. The long, curved, flying buttresses of the adjoining Gothic church resembled sun-bleached ribs piercing out of a rotting body. Its blue, lancet-arched windows seemed to follow her like hungry eyes.

Michelle chased these scary images out of her mind. Regardless of its notorious former occupant, Dracula Castle never spooked her, even if she was only twelve, soon to be thirteen. The legends about the castle were stories to scare little kids, not her of course. But she felt her heart grow heavy, and the castle looked darker still.

It became eerily quiet. The usual noises made by crickets, flying insects, and birds seemed to be muffled. The deer in the meadow huddled together, their heads were up, sniffing the air, ears flared, listening intently. Only their flicking tails indicated their anxiety.

The stillness in the air grew thicker as she got closer to the market. Even the usual, lively voices of the merchants were absent now. The melody someone played on a dulcimer ended on a sour note. The Romanian folks tending the market stared at the castle, too, scratching their heads, talking in whispers, apprehensive of the quietness surrounding them.

The fog on the hill seemed greenish, churning and billowing, and suddenly a dark swarm burst out from within it. A large flock of crows descended on the valley like a dark blanket of hell bats. She looked up, bewildered by the thousands of black birds crowing dissonantly and flying over the market toward her. Most men shouted curses at the crows and shook their fists at them. The women made the sign of the cross, asking for God’s help.

She shivered. Cold and fear overcame her. A stench of death filled the air, overpowering even the fresh smell of pines. She pinched her nose, disgusted by the putrid odor. The black birds flying above eclipsed the sun. Thousand of red eyes seemed to be locked on her with hungry malice. Instinctively, she ducked, frightened by the storm of crows.

The whole event was over in less than a minute, so fast that she would have had no time to run for cover if she had needed to do so. The crows flew away and invaded the woods nearby, crowing even louder, as they were trying to find branches on which to perch. The trees’ branches swayed as if infested by locusts.

Nothing this unusual had happened on her vacation, until now. She took her eyes from the commotion in the trees and looked up at the castle, wondering, What else? But, nothing else happened. The sunlight became bright again, and the blue sky returned. The noise from the crows subsided, and soon the chirping of birds, the chatter of squirrels, and the buzzing of bees filled the air.

Many folks in the market returned to their tasks, shaking their heads in dismay. Some remained in small groups talking about the crows, debating what disaster this omen may presage. A few women lit candles as if to guard against evil spirits. But after a short time, life returned to normal in the market.

Michelle shrugged, dismissed any bad thoughts, and headed to the nearest smoky stand to buy a bag of peanuts. The aroma of roasted nuts and the scent of pines recaptured the air in the market. A rust-colored, large-tailed squirrel descended from a nearby oak tree and ventured near the stand, searching for more palatable nuts. The vendor shooed it away with an old broom. The squirrel ran a few feet away, stopped, and stared at the vendor, jerking its tail in obvious displeasure.

She was about to buy the peanuts, when someone tapped her softly on the shoulder. Michelle turned around and recognized Ana, a local Romanian teenager she had befriended while on vacation. Hey, Ana!

I’m happy I found you, Michelle. I heard you are leaving today. The girl with curly blond hair smiled brightly.

Yeah! Last day visiting Grandma and Grandpa. I’m so going back home, she said, and then remembered what had just happened. Did you see the crows? A whole bunch of them flew over from the castle.

Crows? Oh, those black birds? asked Ana, and her smile faded.

Was that for real, or what? said Michelle.

Ana nodded, looking worried.

What’s the matter?

The girl smiled tentatively. Folks here are—how do you say—superstitious about these things.

Superstitious? About a flock of crows? Michelle wondered. It was like, weird. The stench was nasty. What’s the big deal?

Ana bent forward as if to divulge a secret and whispered, They say these are signs, like an omen of bad things to come.

Get real. Are you pulling my leg?

Ana looked at her leg, confused about Michelle’s remark.

It’s a saying, you know, said Michelle, realizing that Ana did not understand.

Oh, I get it. Ana smiled. Do not be worried about what I said. She waved her hand as if dismissing her previous comments.

Michelle agreed, and then she noticed how prim and proper Ana looked. She was dressed in business attire, had her hair done, and even wore makeup. I like what you did with your hair. Your locks look golden.

You like it? Ana patted the side of her hairdo. You should do the same. You have blond hair just like me. She giggled.

Mine is too short now. So, where are you going?

I’m finally sixteen and I walk to the castle, for a job interrogation.

Michelle couldn’t help but smile, imagining Ana and her hairdo in the castle’s torture chamber, on the rack, being interrogated by a fat, sweaty, hooded man. I think you mean interview, job interview.

Yes, yes, interview. I keep forgetting. She straightened her shoulders, tall and proud in her navy blue business suit, white blouse, and shiny black shoes. I think I can get a job as English-speaking guide there. I want to thank you for helping me to speak English better.

Great! Go, girl, go get that job. Michelle reached up and hugged her Romanian friend.

As the two girls chatted, a tourist bus rumbled into the market. The bus stopped after a long screech of squeaky breaks. The tourists poured out of the bus and the tour guide gave instructions regarding the bathrooms’ whereabouts and the bus’s departure time. The newcomers invaded the market for a last shopping spree before visiting the castle up on the hill.

Your future clients. Michelle motioned with her head toward the tourists.

Ana laughed, nervously glancing at them. She turned to Michelle and said, I wish you have a good travel.

Thanks! Yeah, vacation’s over. I’m leaving at noon. My grandpa will take me to the airport in Timisoara and then off to California.

They hugged again, laughing, but also sad.

Good luck with your job interview, and keep in touch, OK?

I will, I will. Good-bye, Michelle! Ana started toward the highway, turned around, and waved at her one last time.

Bye, good luck! Michelle waved at Ana and watched her taking the road leading to the castle.

The plump tourists dressed in extra-large T-shirts and armed with cameras and camcorders, wandered around the stands checking out the ceramic pottery, intricately carved wooden artifacts, garlic ropes, candles, crucifixes, and pictures of Vlad the Impaler. Colorful, embroidered folk clothes, lots of soft and fluffy sheepskins, and tons of Dracula T-shirts waited patiently, stacked on tables or hung on racks. The bleary-eyed tourists walked about cautiously. After all, this was Transylvania.

The Romanian merchants were friendly, smiling, and inviting the newcomers to buy their wares. The local women wore black scarves, white blouses embroidered in red or blue designs, and white skirts with black, narrow aprons. The men were dressed in black and white attire as well, and wore short-brimmed, black bowler hats with colorful, fan-shaped, peacock-feather adornments.

Michelle paid for the bag of peanuts and walked briskly toward the meadow. As she crossed the market, making her way among the tourists, she overheard a woman saying, Jerry! Look! A Gypsy fortune-teller.

She glanced at the woman who was pulling Jerry by the elbow toward the fortune-teller’s horseless wagon at the edge of the market. A Gypsy woman dressed in a long, fluffy, blue skirt, a white blouse with colorful embroidery, a necklace of golden coins covering her entire chest, and a red scarf tight around her head waved and invited the passersby to come to her wagon.

Oh, for crying out loud, Dolores! You can’t pass a fortune-teller even here, lamented the man.

This, my dear, is a genuine Gypsy fortune-teller, responded the woman called Dolores.

That means she’ll charge twice as much for less fortune. Besides, we’re in a foreign country. Jerry leaned toward her as if to make this very obvious point even clearer. She doesn’t speak English.

Undeterred, Dolores pulled him closer to the Gypsy’s wagon. He grumbled unhappily, but followed her.

Hey, Americana! Michelle heard the Gypsy calling her.

Hey, Rafila! How’s the doom and gloom business? she answered in English knowing perfectly well that the Gypsy did not understand a word of it. Michelle giggled and spun on her heels.

Vino. Ajuta ma cu Americanii, said the Gypsy, waving at her with one hand to come closer, while pointing at Dolores and Jerry with the other one.

Dolores looked at Michelle and whispered to the man, Jerry, we’re in luck. That blond girl over there speaks English. She then asked Michelle in a loud voice, Excuse me, we’re with the tour bus, dear. Do you speak English?

Yes, she answered.

Could you help us with the fortune-teller? Dolores spoke slowly and clearly, as if wanting to be understood better.

From the corner of her eye Michelle saw the Gypsy waving at them.

Kome! Kome! Fortuna! Tell fortuna. The Gypsy invited the couple with both arms to come closer, and with her head she gestured to Michelle to approach as well.

It had been a bad idea to have spoken English. This had happened several times before, and Michelle became an accidental interpreter. She did not mind helping, but today she was kind of in a hurry. On the other hand, maybe it wouldn’t take that long. All right, she agreed. I’ll help you.

You speak English very well, dear. Where did you learn it? asked Dolores.

At home, she answered nonchalantly.

Dolores looked puzzled. So, do you know her, do you work for her? Dolores moved her gaze back and forth from Michelle to the fortune-teller.

No. I mean, I know her, but I don’t work for her, explained Michelle. And then she added, I was just, like, passing by, on my way to see the fawns. Michelle glanced toward the grazing animals.

Kome, kome, interrupted the Gypsy again, holding up five fingers. Good fortuna, five Euro.

Only five Euros! Jerry, I got to have my fortune told by her.

Go ahead, he sighed. But, I’ll keep both of my hands on my wallet.

Dolores shook her head, obviously annoyed with him. She turned toward Michelle and asked, What’s your name, dear?

Michelle.

My name is Dolores, and this is my husband, Jerry. Dolores pointed over her shoulder with her thumb at him. I’m just amazed at how well you speak English. Are you from around here?

Actually, I’m from California. I’m here on summer vacation. Came to see my grandparents.

Ohh! No wonder. You’re American. We’re from New York. So could you interpret for us, dear? I’d like to have my fortune told. Dolores’s eyes sparkled with excitement.

Sure. Michelle nodded, then turned to the Gypsy and said in Romanian, Rafila, ai un client.

The Gypsy smiled from ear to ear and a golden tooth sparkled in the sun. Velcome! Velcome! Me, Madam Rafila. She invited them with her hands to sit down in front of the wagon on some rickety stools. Ce faci? she cheerfully asked Michelle how she was doing.

Good. Bine. Michelle hopped on the edge of the wagon, behind the Gypsy, and swung her legs.

What language do you speak with her, Michelle? asked Jerry.

Romanian.

It sounds like Italian. He seemed surprised.

Of course, said Dolores. Romanian is like Italian or Spanish, dear.

Jerry’s mouth took the shape of a perfect O.

Madam Rafila sat in front of them, and out of an old, carved, wooden box she pulled a shiny cowry shell. She spat on it, and then polished it on her sleeve. The fortune-teller then gazed at the shell while waving her hand over it in a lazy-eight fashion.

No wonder it’s only five Euros. She has no crystal ball, commented Jerry in a low voice.

Hush, whispered Dolores. This is so ancient, even before the crystal ball came into use.

Viata lunga! Viata buna! said Rafila while staring at the shell held in her left hand.

Long life, good life, Michelle interpreted over the Gypsy’s shoulder and glanced toward the meadow. The fawns were still there.

Spirit rau apare aici, said Rafila, and her forehead furrowed.

Puzzled at what she heard, Michelle stopped swinging her legs and turned her head slowly toward the fortune-teller. In the past, Rafila predicted mostly good things to customers, but this time something was different. She translated nevertheless, Evil spirit appears here.

Dolores smiled cautiously. Jerry rolled his eyes, but glanced over his shoulder with a concerned expression.

Madam Rafila turned to Michelle and whispered something.

Rafila said that for five more Euros, she can ward off the evil spirit hovering over you. Michelle hoped this evil spirit stuff would end soon.

She smells suckers, whispered Jerry between clenched teeth as he squeezed his wallet, making sure it was still in his back pocket.

Dolores nodded in agreement at the Gypsy’s offer, staring intently at her.

Madam Rafila waved her right arm with an open palm around the couple, saying, Spirit fugi! Spirit fugi!

What’s she saying? asked Dolores.

Run away, spirit; run away, spirit.

Before Jerry could make another snide remark, Madam Rafila froze and started shaking slightly as her eyes rolled back into her head. A long, purple tongue came out of her mouth, waggling like a snake. Michelle stood up and came around to check on her. She felt uneasy seeing the whites of the Gypsy’s eyes against the olive complexion of her face, the tongue lurching out of her mouth, and the hands clutching the shell almost to the crushing point. What was wrong with her?

Dolores must have been a pro at dealing with fortune-tellers and their fake theatrics, because out of her bag she took a silver, mini-cassette recorder, and turned it on. A gust of wind brought a chill in the air, and the wagon’s canvas canopy fluttered vigorously.

Madam Rafila, with her eyes rolled back, spoke in a deep, gruff voice, Rehlik, rehlik, rehlik liw tromucard nos yam. Reahui. Em rof cham on zi reh nadloag tiw lrag atd. She convulsed violently now as if she was being electrocuted.

What’s she saying? asked Dolores, looking back and forth from Rafila to Michelle.

I have no idea. Maybe it’s in Gypsy, said Michelle in an agitated voice. She became terribly concerned about the shaking woman. This was scary. She wondered whether Rafila was faking it or if it was for real. Should she get help? Rafila! she grabbed the woman by the shoulder and shook her. Rafila!

Just as suddenly the Gypsy stopped shaking and her eyes came back to normal. Scuze! She looked spaced out, unaware of anyone around her.

Are you OK? Esti bine? Michelle squatted down in front of her to have a better look.

Rafila inhaled deeply and nodded to indicate that she was all right. She placed her shell back in the box and sat quietly.

I never saw her like this before, said Michelle, shaken by what happened.

Jerry didn’t seem convinced. Looking sideways at his wife he said, We better get going, Dolores. He stood up, helped his wife to her feet, and handed Rafila ten Euros. After this, Dracula will be a piece of cake, he said in a cynical voice.

Yeah, let’s go. Jerry, pay the girl too.

No need. Michelle shook her head and raised her palms in refusal.

Please, dear, it’s our pleasure. You’ve been very helpful.

No, really, it’s all right, insisted Michelle, feeling a little embarrassed at being offered money for her help.

Jerry handed her five Euros. She took the money hesitantly, but gave it to the Gypsy who stared blankly in the distance. Rafila and her family need it more.

Jerry blushed, as if embarrassed that he’d taken Michelle for a scam artist.

Aren’t you a sweet girl? Dolores gave her a warm hug. So when are you going back to California?

I’m flying out today, Michelle said happily.

The bus horn sounded and the tour guide waved the tourists back to the bus.

We’d better get going, said Jerry awkwardly. Take care, Michelle, and you too, Madam Rafila.

Bye, dear, and thank you, said Dolores, returning to the bus with Jerry.

Michelle waved at them. She asked Rafila if she was all right, and the Gypsy nodded and smiled, holding the money clenched in her fist. Michelle decided to leave before anything else weird happened. On her way to visit the fawns, she saw the bus departing on the highway toward the Dracula Castle.

Back on the bus, Jerry and Dolores sat quietly for a while. He opened his mouth several times to say something, but didn’t. Finally, he turned toward her. What just happened back there? The Gypsy’s tongue scared the bejesus out of me. His eyes were wide, staring at his wife. Was that normal, or some act? He reached quickly to his back pocket to check for his wallet, relaxing when he found it there.

At first I thought it was an act, said Dolores. But when I saw Michelle’s concern, I figured Rafila was experiencing a psychic episode. She reached in her purse and pulled out the mini-cassette recorder. This is one way to figure out what happened. I recorded her. Let’s listen.

Dolores rewound the tape and played it back, but the same gibberish sounded all over again, although it was not as frightening as when they heard it from the Gypsy’s mouth.

Jerry narrowed his eyes, looking disappointedly at her, as if saying, Fifteen Euros for that? In an accusatory voice he remarked, I think it was an act, and the girl was in on it too.

Dolores shook her head and ignored him. As she rewound the cassette again, she held the play button down. An awful voice spoke out, The Girl with Golden Hair is no match for me. You hear! My son Dracu Mort will kill her! Kill her! Kill her!

Jerry jumped off his seat as if bitten by a viper. He and Dolores exchanged worried glances. Several heads turned toward them, wondering what happened.

How did you do that? he asked, rubbing the back of his neck and easing back into his seat.

I didn’t. I just played it backward. This is not Rafila. It’s someone else.

Holy Mary, mother of God! Jerry freaked out. Do you get any m-meaning out of t-that?

Dolores played the tape backward again moving the cassette player closer to her ear.

How come we understand what it’s saying? He pointed with a shaky finger at the cassette player.

What do you mean? Dolores asked, and turned to look at him.

Can’t you hear? That’s English! He stood up in the aisle, waving his hands to make his point.

In his rearview mirror, the bus driver spotted a passenger standing up in the aisle, waving his arms. The driver shouted something at him in Romanian. Then he spoke to the tour guide and pointed back at the standing passenger. The guide asked him to sit down while motioning downward with his hands. Jerry did not seem to understand.

The bus driver kept looking back over his shoulder at Jerry, in spite of the fact that he was negotiating sharp, uphill serpentines, requiring both of his hands on the wheel, both of his feet on the brake, clutch, and gas pedals, and both of his eyes on the road.

A muffled thump sounded, and the bus jerked over a bump. The driver pressed the brakes with both feet, stopping the vehicle abruptly. Jerry flew forward, hitting the large windshield. His mouth and nose left long, sticky marks on the glass as he slid to the floor with a moan.

The driver opened the door quickly, scrambled over Jerry’s body, and stepped outside. The guide followed, franticly asking incomprehensible questions. Jerry got up, looking dazed by the slam against the windshield, holding a hand over his left eyebrow. He looked around, trying to find his bearings.

Outside, the driver and the guide were shouting at each other, gesticulating with their hands and pointing at something under the bus. Some of the tourists stood up. Others stared through the open windows, concerned about the screaming men outside and wondering aloud about their sudden, unscheduled stop.

Soon, Jerry was able to stand without holding onto anything and stepped off the bus to see what happened and why the two were yelling at each other. By the time he was on the ground the two men stopped quarrelling. The driver, in a squatting position, held his head in his hands, wailing. The tour guide bent over and threw up in the ditch next to the road. Jerry walked a few steps and turned his head slowly to look back at the bus. His eyes got wide and he cupped his mouth with both hands. From under the bus, a bright red streak of blood flowed on the black asphalt. The blood came from a mangled body whose curly, blond head lay limp on the pavement.

Chapter 2–The Tombstone Book

Nathan grabbed the black iron handle, and pushed up the attic hatch with his shoulder. It felt heavy, but it opened. Carefully, he peered inside through the narrow crack. Everything seemed quiet and safe in there. The rusty hinges squeaked annoyingly as he opened the hatch completely. Keeping an eye out for bats, he climbed halfway up and inspected the attic some more.

Assured that it was safe, he stepped cautiously on the dusty plank floor. He listened intently for any bat shrills, but only the creaking floorboards disturbed the dead silence. The sun’s rays streamed in through two dormer windows; the shafts of light resembled the high beams of a car. Farther away, a half-round window under the peaked roof admitted more light. There was no danger here, nothing to fear.

Cobwebs crisscrossed between the roof beams, and thick dust blanketed everything with a velvety, gray layer, smelling like an abandoned warehouse. Old furniture and wooden crates full of stuff packed the attic. A canvas boxing bag hung by a rusty chain from a rafter, and a pair of old, cracked boxing gloves dangled around the bag’s chain. Nathan figured the bag had belonged to his grandpa in his younger days, when he was a professional boxer. A tuba with a green patina and a harp with most of its strings missing were stashed in a corner. Many black, green, and brown steamer trunks were stacked one on top of the other like crates.

Wow! he said aloud, walking around and imagining undiscovered treasures in those trunks. Humming a tune to keep himself company, he hit his head on an oil lantern hanging from a beam above. It didn’t hurt much, but it startled him. The lantern swung like a pendulum, squeaking on the rusty nail that served as its hook.

He peered outside through the half-round window. Down below in the corral his older brother, Perry, harassed the ranch bull with a red handkerchief. Nathan smirked. His carefree brother was trying to get into trouble, as usual. And what better place to do so, but at their grandparents’ ranch, here in Minnesota?

He interrupted his reverie and reminded himself why he was up here in the attic: the school’s science fair. Ever since he’d seen his first Frankenstein movie, he’d become fascinated by paranormal and weird science. And when he studied the real science to debunk the weird stuff, he found out that he liked both, the real and the unreal.

For almost a year now, he’d been searching for a special experiment. He burned with ambition to win, and best Melissa, who had won second place with her science project at a previous fair. He was not compared to his older brother, Perry, but to Melissa, a close family friend. She was the yardstick by which his parents measured him. But what really irked him was the fact that he was compared to a girl, even if she was fifteen, only a year older than him. An extraordinary experiment would put an end to this humiliating comparison.

His grandpa told him about old scientific books somewhere in the attic, in a trunk. The task at hand was to find that trunk, and the attic was full of them. He flipped a trunk lid, which slammed backward, and thick clouds of dust engulfed everything. Nathan stood back, but couldn’t help it. Ah-chooo! he sneezed. He wafted through the dust clouds, sneezing and coughing, while moving and opening more trunks. Most of them were full of old clothes, moth-eaten furs, and mouse droppings.

Toward the bottom of the stack he found the trunk full of books. He opened the lid, and the golden title of the top book read, The Most Potent and Vile Witchcraft Experiments Ever Practiced on Earth. It was a hardbound, leather-covered book. He put it aside for further study and checked the remaining books one by one. Most of them were old science and exploration books. One of them was a cooking manual. None of them were of any modern, scientific value.

The book The Most Potent and Vile Witchcraft Experiments Ever Practiced on Earth sounded like something mystical and dangerous. He sat down on a nearby trunk and thumbed through the dusky yellow pages. The style, the format, the written words seemed old but modern at the same time. The book was full of experiments, just what he was looking for.

Dude Frankenstein! Perry popped up through the hatch opening. With his flat crew-cut hairstyle, his head resembled a broom.

If it isn’t the bull slayer, snarled Nathan, and turned back to the book.

This place is you, Perry said as he climbed up into the attic. Dark, dusty, cobwebs, and spooky. Found any skeletons yet? Iiiigor perhaps?

No Igor, bud...just a replica of your empty skull rattling around here somewhere, snapped Nathan, hoping Perry would leave him alone.

Fuunny! Perry mimed a laugh while holding his belly.

Realizing that he couldn’t get rid of his brother, Nathan sighed and showed him the book. Hey, bud, check this out.

What? Perry punched the boxing bag, causing more dust swirls. He came over, picked up the book, and read the title. Smirking, he said, Awesome, bro, this is perfect for Halloween. He threw the book back at Nathan and wandered about.

You don’t get it. There’s weird stuff in here, listen. ‘How to Become Invisible.’ Nathan cleared his throat. Find a skunk. Go to the cemetery at midnight. Start a bonfire and throw the skunk in it. Poke through the red ashes until you find a cross made of bone. Pull it out and cool it in holy water. When you’ll place the cross in your mouth, you shall become invisible for twenty-four hours.

That could be useful, if the skunk doesn’t mind. Perry inspected the trunks with detached interest. And don’t forget to wear gloves and a gas mask.

Nathan flipped the page. Look at this one! ‘Vampire Protection Potion.’ He paraphrased, Garlic, blood of a virgin, more garlic, and even more garlic. Wow! What do you think?

Garlic will protect you from anyone, said Perry, unfazed.

Let’s see, what else... , Nathan flipped through the pages. Transform Yourself into an Animal.

Yeah? Let me see that. Perry grabbed the book from Nathan, and after quickly reading he shrugged and flipped to the next experiment. Check this out, ‘How to Master Broomstick Flying.’ Is this for real? Ridiculous.

Hey! That’s my book. Give it back. Nathan snatched the book back from Perry, opened it to another experiment, and read, Visiting the Dead World. This experiment requires one to die. If this experiment is not performed properly one may not return. Nathan looked mischievously at his brother. Hey, Perry! Wanna try it?

Don’t get smart, replied Perry.

Nathan snickered and focused on another experiment. Weird. ‘Sell your Soul to the Devil and Never Die.’ Nathan read halfway, and stopped. What is this? A satanic ritual book?"

He threw the book on the floor. It landed closed in one of the spotlights from the dormer windows. Puffs of dust swirled in the sunbeam. The book lay there for a second, then the cover flipped open all by itself. The rest of the pages turned lazily as if invisible fingers flipped them, page-by-page. Nathan stepped back, uneasy about what he saw. But, realizing that Perry was close by, he quickly regained his composure and acted cool.

The book lay on the floor open at a new experiment. Nathan read the title, ‘How to Disappear off the Face of the Earth.’ Yeah, sure, and reappear where? Cold vapors came out of his mouth as he spoke. He felt a chill in the air in spite of the fact that it was a summer day. It seemed darker, too, and everything looked gray and dead. A weird stillness hung in the attic.

Perry seemed frozen like a mannequin, with one arm half raised. Nathan looked around nervously, expecting some ghost to appear. A shadow flitted by. He turned quickly, but saw nothing. He rubbed the back of his neck, smoothed his hair, and told himself with a shudder, Chill, man.

Did you say something? asked Perry, oblivious to what just happened.

Was Perry toying with him? Nathan picked up the book from the floor, still open to the disappearance experiment, while keeping it in the beam of sunlight. The experiment was printed on the left page, and a diagram was depicted on the right page. He didn’t feel inclined to read it and flipped the page over. Once he raised his finger, the page returned to the original experiment all by itself. He flipped over several more pages, smoothing them down to make sure they would stay put, but the pages turned back to the same experiment as if inviting him to read on. A cold, creepy feeling crawled up his back. He snapped the book closed, and when he lifted his hand off of it, it opened to the same experiment.

Curiosity overcame him, and he read, How to Disappear off the Face of the Earth: This experiment can be performed with any live creature; however, for best results with human subjects, two brothers and two sisters are required. See the diagram on the opposite page.

Nathan examined the diagram closely. There was a triangle with a small circle in the middle. On each side of the triangle there were small geometric shapes he could not identify. He read on, Set three mirrors in an equilateral triangle, three paces from the center. One corner of the triangle must face north. Between each set of mirrors position a crystal flanked by two loadstones. Place a cauldron in the center. As he read he examined the diagram and confirmed its accuracy. Place in the cauldron one spoonful of green lizard powder and another of thunder dust. Add a few drops of midnight-black-cat essence. Mix. Nathan scratched his head and murmured, What are those? After a short pause he continued, Step into the triangle facing north. Have the assistants rotate the three mirrors clockwise as fast as possible. Light the powder in the cauldron and say the magic words. The so-called magic words were gibberish, and he could not read them.

Nathan swallowed dryly and read the end, We’ll see you soon... His eyes hung on those words, and the creepy feeling crawled up on the back of his neck again. It was as if someone was watching him, and he didn’t mean Perry, who was staring outside, through the half-round window, unusually quiet.

Closing the book, he sat on a nearby trunk, thinking of how cold it had become earlier and the uneasy feeling he had about this experiment. When he moved into the sunlight beam the book opened, and the pages turned over by themselves to the same experiment. He tried to make sense again of the gibberish, but to no avail. Was this smoke and mirrors, or a real experiment? No answer came to his mind. He wanted to throw the book back in the trunk, but something held him back.

Now I remember, he said aloud suddenly. This is similar to an experiment I read about once that used light for camouflage. Yeah, that’s what this is. Invisibility.

What? Perry asked from the window.

Take a look at this experiment. It’s about invisibility. He walked to where Perry stood and shoved the open book under his nose.

Perry looked at it and said with a sneer, Yeah! Invisible, like invisible ink.

Huh? Nathan pulled the book back. The pages were blank. What did you do to it? He was dumbstruck.

Nothing! Perry raised his hands defensively.

Nathan walked quickly to the sunbeam, and when he exposed it to that light the text reappeared. Wow! Come and see this, said Nathan, holding the book in the light with one hand and pointing up with the other toward the sunbeam. The writing is visible here.

Perry shuffled over. Take it out of the light.

He did so, but although fainter, the print was still visible. Perry snorted.

Nathan was perplexed, but he would not be taken for a fool. OK, then watch this. He closed the book and threw it into the sun spot on the floor. As before, the cover and the pages flipped open at the same

Reviews for The Lorn Tree

[dgsandru · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Excellent story of adventure and survival. Mind expanding.

[ronfast · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

A delightful story. Incredible imagination. I can’t wait until the next book is released.

[mikeroman-1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

What’s a story without allegoric animals. No, not unicorns, dragons, or centaurs, but different and new selection of beings. Arboregal story is not taking the beaten and boring path of other stories that rely on the same stuff, which is good, since this story happens in a different world. Imagine giant butterflies, covered in feathers, like birds. Not to mention milking caterpillars, and… I better stop here and let you discover them in the book. Very creative and imaginative story.

[binggong-1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I’d say, I laughed so hard at some of the jokes cracked up by one of the heroes, Perry, that often I forgot that these four teenagers were lost and in peril. It was good release of tension, by Perry taking things in stride from time to time.

[billgalentino · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

When it comes to fantasy stories, which describe unusual worlds and customs, no explanations are given why it is so. After all, why explain how and why magic or broomstick flying are possible in Harry Potter when everyone knows that witches can do that. Arboregal story does not fall in that category. In this story, with the help of Nathan, explanations are sought in the effort of finding a solution to their predicament. For example, the explanation of the four-dimensional universe was fascinating. Could have they fallen through a fourth dimension? I will not spoil the story, you’ll have to read it yourself to appreciate the magnitude of this possibility. And talking about witches, although there is some mention of witches in Arboregal, and if there would be broomstick flying, Nathan would attempt to find an explanation for it. In conclusion I would classify this story as science-fantasy