The Maker

By D. F. Anderson

When a mysterious drawing binder appears on thirteen-year-old Nate Smith’s windowsill, he starts having visions—and drawing them. Strange creatures come for his work, launching him on a space adventure to learn the alien art of making. Armed with an otherworldly pen that brings his drawings to life, Nate must save planets, and his parents, from the dark creations of an alien mastermind. If only he believed he had talent.

• Language: English
• Publisher: D. F. Anderson
• Release date: Feb 21, 2018
• ISBN: 9780991800346

Book preview

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PRAISE FOR THE MAKER:

[W]ill delight middle-grade readers, and has the satisfying feel of a classic ‘80s kids movie that older readers especially will find highly charming. The characters are colorful and winning...Henry, a stalwart alien companion reminiscent of Chewbacca, is a particular standout. Readers will appreciate how prized intelligence is within the book, as they figure out plot twists at about the same time as the characters. This book is well worth a read for sci-fi fans of any age. - RT Book Reviews

An enthralling, page-turning sci-fi adventure. The makings of an epic!...The characters, many of them very, VERY odd, spring off the page...If you are looking for a fascinating sci-fi/fantasy adventure populated with interesting characters and an intriguing setting, this book is for you. - The Wishing Shelf Book Awards Reviews - Five Star Review

"Tweens and teens--and kids at heart--will encounter thrills, mysteries, and an abundance of life lessons in The Maker, a whimsical novel set in space." - IndieReader Discovery Awards - The Verdict

[A] fast-paced and engaging read, with a fresh take on some familiar concepts and a strong character arc at its center. - IndieReader

"[A]wesome! Vibrant and energetic characters living in an amazingly designed world...This book gets something I rarely give, and that’s my whole hearted recommendation. It may be labelled a children’s book, and it will certainly inspire and engage that audience, but it also possesses great value as an adult read...In short, great writing style, brilliant ideas, gripping plot, funny to read. Basically, The Maker, is everything you could want in a book." - Author K. J. Simmill for Readers’ Favorite - Five Star Review

"A great delight for young readers, The Maker by D.F. Anderson introduces readers to a hero that is inspiring and lovable in a memorable adventure...The author has the uncanny gift of creating a world that is abstract but that feels familiar to readers...The writing in The Maker is masterly and the pacing awesome...fans of this genre will be gripped." - Arya Fomonyuy for Readers’ Favorite - Five Star Review

[A] quick and enjoyable read. The fast-paced action and suspense kept me glued to the book. - LitPick Student Reviews - Five Star Review (13-year-old reviewer)

Anderson writes like a master and readers will enjoy the way he brings out the thoughts and the worldview of the protagonist. He actually makes his hero lovable. Character development is superb...The setting of the story is great and cinematic, and readers will find vivid images flooding their imaginations...[O]riginal, gripping, and utterly delightful.- Romuald Dzemo for Readers’ Favorite - Five Star Review

"Anderson deftly explores the limits of human potential in this entertaining and action-packed story...Meer, the parallel planet he ends up on, is endlessly fascinating... While this is listed as a children’s book, I would not hesitate to recommend it to anyone who enjoys a bit of metaphysics sprinkled into their fantasy....The Maker is most highly recommended."- Jack Magnus for Readers’ Favorite - Five Star Review

I have never read a book with a concept quite like this before....It got exciting very quickly, and I found myself enjoying it immensely. Packed with action, a smoothly-flowing plot, and a unique setting, this book made for a read that kept me on the edge of my seat. - LitPick Student Reviews - Five Star Review (16-year-old reviewer)

[An] enchanting story about Nate, a teenage boy, who loves to draw...The characters are unique and fantastic...[W]ritten with beauty and skill...The mixture of nature science and the fantasy of magic is refreshing... Anderson has a great imagination and does a wonderful job sharing it...I would recommend this story to anyone who wants to lose themselves in a terrific adventure. - Kris Moger for Readers’ Favorite - Five Star Review

Also by D. F. Anderson

Chapter Books (ages 6–9):

Charlie Sparrow and the Secret of Flight:

Tales of Tree City, Book 1

Charlie Sparrow and the Book of Flight:

Tales of Tree City, Book 2

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Text copyright © 2017 by D F Anderson

Published: 2017

ISBN: 978-0-9918003-4-6

Publisher: Underdog Books, proudly independent

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

Cover and book design by Rachel Lawston

Author photo copyright © 2017 Elizabeth Fulton

First eBook Edition

Visit the author’s website:

www.dfandersonauthor.com

Join D. F. Anderson’s newsletter to be automatically entered into his monthly print book givewaway and learn about his upcoming book releases!

Thank you for supporting an independent author!

For Genesta and Isla

Rise up nimbly and go on your strange journey.

—Rumi (Translation by Coleman Barks)

Contents

One-Eyed Jellyfish

Thieves in the Night

The Transplanter

A Small Harvest

Petal City

The Grand Scientist of Meer

The Workshop

Making

Philip

The Factory

Guardian

The Needle

Escape

The Burrow

The Circuit

Ship Alongside

The Plan

Instructor Zin

A Different Kind of Prisoner

We Need You

The Third Planet Wobbler

Vishus

Nate’s Power

The Mica Network

Dad

Home

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Chapter 1

One-Eyed Jellyfish

It starts as a half-moon with a braided cord hanging from the bottom. Wavy strings grow from the cord. Tentacles. Kind of looks like a jellyfish. I add more curvy lines until they’re a thick maze slithering down the page. I close my eyes, focusing on the image in my mind. A lidless eye glares at me from the jellyfish’s back. With a sinking heart, I trace out every creepy detail.

I look up, remembering myself. The microwave reads 4:55. They’ll be home any minute. I glance at my report card on the kitchen table. My stomach tightens. This won’t be good.

I turn to the sketchbook. The jellyfish stares at me. I look at the ceiling, my heart thudding, my stomach curling. The eye burns in my mind.

My drawings are always detailed, but this is extreme even for me. Hundreds of tentacles, shaded to appear lighted from within. And the eye, staring. I can barely tell the drawing on the page from the image in my mind.

This is it. I’m officially losing touch with reality.

There’s something missing. Frantic, I add the fireflies, dots that to me are sparkles of light. They make the image come alive, the way it appears to me.

Earth to Nate! Ted shouts, flapping the report card in my face.

I jump. Ted and Mom are home. I didn’t hear. It seems Ted’s been ranting about the number of Ds this term. I don’t answer because they don’t care how I feel, though it should be obvious.

First, Mom and Dad separated—that was July. In September, they announced they would divorce. The next day, Dad left for Florida and didn’t come back. Fast-forward to November when, out of the blue, Mom brings home Ted. Ta-da! Meet my new boyfriend. By the way, he’s moving in. Oh, and do you mind calling him Dad?

That would be enough to tank anyone’s grades. Then, to ring in the New Year, the package arrived with that wonderful, horrible note. Cue the visions and hours-long drawing sessions. I didn’t tell Mom and Ted about the package.

It’s March, and the visions are getting stronger, the drawings wilder.

That’s the problem right there, Ted says, grabbing my sketchbook. These things.

He glares at my work like it’s garbage. I shrink away, my stomach twisting up.

Give it back! I lunge forward, but he swings the sketchbook out of my reach.

Mom? Mom!

The old Mom would defend me, tell Ted to back off. The new Mom scowls, silently disapproving of me. A fly lands on her forehead, hops, and settles in to stare at me—also disapproving, it seems.

Give it back! Ted mocks, tossing the sketchbook on the counter. He pulls my backpack out from under my chair, flips it over, and shakes everything onto the table. Sketchbooks, pencils, pens.

Don’t! I grab the shoulder strap.

Let go, Ted growls, digging in. Strap threads burst as we strain against each other.

Nate! Mom cries. Stop!

She pulls my arm. I hold the strap tight. More threads pop.

Ted works a jackhammer on a construction crew. He’s six-foot-two with huge shoulders. I’m five-foot-two and spend my time drawing. I can’t out-pull him, so I let go.

He stumbles backward into the fridge.

Seriously? he barks. Ah, Natey wants his drawings? Take them! He starts tearing my sketchbook pages, showering me with the pieces.

My response is instinctive. I reach for him, but Mom steps between us.

Go, she says. Just go.

He’s not worth it anyway, I snap.

I rush out of the kitchen and upstairs to my room, slamming my door.

I go for the bed, but footsteps come up the stairs. The handle jiggles and the door creaks.

Nate? Mom calls, slipping inside and closing the door.

What? I demand, still shaken.

Why are you so mean to him? she asks.

Why do you defend him? I answer.

She looks shocked. He cares about you. He wants you to pass eighth grade, like any father would.

I almost scream back: He’s not my father! I’ve done that too many times. A big reaction doesn’t help. I grit my teeth and say, calmly: Ted is not my father. Ted is—Ted, and that’s it.

A fly followed Mom in. Its high-pitched buzz fills the silence.

You’ll come to see things my way, she says as the fly lands on her forehead. She glances at the desk. Is that all your drawing stuff?

Yeah. Why?

I’m taking them.

At first, I don’t understand. Taking them? You can’t!

For a moment, Mom’s face screws up like she’s confused, then her eyes soften. I can’t? You’re right. I—I don’t want to take them away, she stammers. You love drawing. The fly starts buzzing wildly, zipping back and forth in front of her eyes. The buzzing gets so loud, it hurts my ears. Mom shakes her head and the next time she looks at me, it’s with scowling eyes. Don’t try to stop me. It’s been decided. No more drawing until your grades improve.

I tremble, afraid as much as angry. But I need to draw.

Grow up, Nate. It’s not like you have a future as an artist.

My chest and stomach knot. Who is this person? Mom used to ask to see my work all the time. She seemed to like it. She bought a lot of the drawing supplies on my desk. Now she thinks my drawings are garbage, just like Ted? Dad wouldn’t allow this, I protest weakly. Mom’s words have sucked the fight out of me.

Dad? Dad left. He’s never coming back. Ted is Dad now.

He is coming back.

Oh? He hasn’t called, texted, emailed, Skyped, Facebooked, or written a letter in six months. So what is it? What makes you so sure?

I shut my mouth. I can’t tell her about the note. Then I would have to show her the package.

Nothing, I say. I just know Dad would never abandon me.

Mom’s stare is more pity than concern. You really have no idea, do you? Your dad had flaws. A lot of them. Why do you think I want a divorce? He was away on business half the year. When he was here, he was lost in thought or locked in his study doodling. She shakes her head. Your dad abandoned me and he did it to you, too, she says. It’s time you forgot him, like I did.

The words are a knife in my chest. Her mouth is moving, but I can’t believe the words are hers. This isn’t my mom.

She turns to my desk, picks up my 11 x 14 sketchbook and my stack of 8 x 12 sketch pads, then riffles through the drawers, grabbing any paper she can find. She takes my two pencil cases, my rulers, my cup of inking pens, and my bottle of India ink, setting them on the pile.

When the door swings open, Ted stands in the hallway, glaring in. Mom walks out, the fly swirling over her, and shuts the door.

I fall on the bed, my insides twisted up, my eyes wet. Wiping my eyes, I grunt the words she’s wrong, and pull the folded note from my pocket. The paper is as thick as card stock but with a silky texture. Each time I take it out—which is a lot—I’m struck by the paper’s strangeness. Written in capital letters across the middle are words that uplift and sadden me:

DEAR NATE,

YOUR FATHER WOULD WANT YOU TO HAVE THIS, SEEING AS HE IS CURRENTLY UNABLE TO GIVE IT TO YOU.

SINCERELY,

W (AKA TGSOM)

PS PUT THE GOOD ONES IN HERE

Chapter 2

Thieves in the Night

The note proves Dad didn’t abandon me. He’s out there. He wanted to give me something—he just can’t right now.

But who is W (AKA TGSOM)? And why not spell out the name in full? And where is Dad? And what is keeping him? And why is he still gone, all these months after the package arrived?

I found the package on my windowsill wrapped in brown paper with the note on top on November 24. Whoever did it climbed the garage and opened my bedroom window from outside. I reread the message at least ten times before unwrapping the paper. Inside, I found a fourteen-inch, leather-bound binder full of clear, empty sleeves.

I slip my hand between the mattress and bed frame, grab the hard edge, and slide the binder out, running my hand over the ornate ’N’ tooled into the smooth green leather. The scrollwork of the N looks medieval.

I puzzled over what PUT THE GOOD ONES IN HERE meant. It took me a few days to come to the obvious answer: drawings. The problem was I knew I didn’t have a good drawing in all my piles of sketchbooks. Not after what Dad said the night he left.

Dad is a real artist. Well, he’s a neuroscientist for his job, but art is his calling. He works in pencil, mostly, sometimes charcoal or conté, and he can draw anything. Teacups, vases, cars, trees, houses, flowers, cityscapes, mountains, cats, horses, squirrels, elephants, bears, me, and Mom. He’s careful with his lines. He sees