The Gate

By Mathew Jenkinson

After his house has been attacked by a terrifying monster, Matthew Graves learns that the world isnt what it seems. He discovers that Gods and deamons exist, and that he is in terrible danger. He is taken by his mother to a safe haven from the deamons that chase him. But once there, he learns he has a destiny, given to him by a higher power. Higher even than the gods themselves. He and his new friends must travel to the rainforests of Brazil, where more secrets await them.
And the adventures begin

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Dec 27, 2011
• ISBN: 9781467885607

Mathew Jenkinson

Brought up in the North East of England, Mathew has been writing for a number of years. Whilst having a good grounding in reality he is able to transport the reader into the fantasy world of his stories. A fresh young writer within the world of fiction, Mathew is at the start of what looks to be a bright writing career ahead. This work is the first of at least two adventure novels based on the same characters within their mysterious world.

Book preview

One

Dreams of Darkness

Nearly one million years ago, there was a temple in the middle of a vast desert, a temple that had ancient magic placed around it. This magic kept people away from the dreaded place, protecting and guarding the great horror within its walls . . .

* * *

Matthew put the book on his bedside table. He had read that one before, the one about the mummy that eats people’s hearts. When you read stuff like that more than once , Matthew thought, it gets really boring .

Matthew was a strange boy. He loved reading books, particularly adventure stories. He had a strange obsession with magic stories and war books and mystery books. Since his seventh birthday, his mum had bought him one adventure book every week, so by the time Matthew was fourteen, he considered himself a master of myths and legends from all over the world.

He pulled the covers over his thin body and lay down. He turned his head to his left and looked at his clock. It read half past midnight. Matthew groaned. He had black hair that was in need of brushing and, a stranger thing about him, jet-black eyes that made you think about dark tunnels. The doctor had said he had a sight problem, but Matthew’s mum told the doctor that her son never showed any problems with his sight. However, Matthew noticed things—things the other children at school and on the street didn’t. At night, he could see in the dark, and, call me crazy, he thought with a smile, sense things around him if he stood in the shadows. Imagine living with that and not being able to tell anyone, especially at the age of fourteen. His mum had said he was being stupid when he told her, but he wasn’t so sure. Matthew rolled over and fell asleep after two or three minutes.

He dreamed that he was standing on a hillside, surrounded by a jungle, which had trees that towered above him. Three figures stood in front of him. One looked like a normal man, wearing a long black cloak and matching robes that covered all his skin except his face, which was pale blue and stretched into a snarl. He was possibly a wizard or warlock. The figure in the centre didn’t look normal. It looked like a creature from one of Matthew’s books, a satyr. Men from waist above, goat from waist down, the satyrs were usually peaceful beings, according to Matthew’s books. The third was a human, but not like the man in robes. She was a girl for starters. She wore a robe that was similar to the man’s, but it was bright purple. She had long red hair and a necklace strapped around her neck. On the end of the necklace were three strange symbols—one a cross, one a skull, and one an eye. Matthew tried to move but couldn’t. Instead, the three people walked until they stood in front of him.

Hello, the satyr said in a deep voice. He sounded about twenty years old. ‘My friends and I need your help.’ He scowled at the man in black. Or rather, Alex and I do. He nodded at the girl. I am Graham of the satyr elders. He hesitated. It is coming, Matthew Graves. The one we call our enemy. The gate will open soon. When it does—

Matthew managed one word. How?

You will know when it opens. When it does, meet us at four o’clock at your school, front entrance. He turned and walked away.

Matthew stared until the satyr disappeared into the jungle. The man in black followed.

But the girl said one last thing. It is coming, Matthew. She had a light, soft voice. The pale faced one. The ultimate darkness.

Matthew woke and sat up with a jolt. His clock now read 8.30 a.m. He was late for school. He got up, pulling the covers off him. He stood and got dressed in his black and grey uniform, complete with a yellow and black tie, which he hated, and then went out of the room, across the hall, and into the bathroom to get washed.

When he came back out, it was 8.40. He was forty minutes late. As Alex’s voice echoed in his head, he shouted down stairs, Mum!

No answer.

There was no sign of his mum, who always went to work half an hour before he got up and left him to walk to school. Matthew had forgotten that as his thoughts kept travelling back to his dream and the face of that strange girl.

* * *

By the time he had got to school, Louverard Secondary School on the edge of London, it was 9.10. He ran, flying across the schoolyard. He had missed first lesson. His class would be in the ICT room now. He slowed to a walk as he entered the building. The ceilings were high up and the windows long and low, letting the sunlight from outside flood in onto the floor and causing, at first glance, the illusion of a sea of sunlight below. He walked along the corridor and entered the hall, which had one full wall made out of just glass. Squinting slightly at this wall as he walked, he proceeded through the hall and found the ICT room.

He thought about not going in, going home and saying he was sick, but an image of his mum saying Lying is a bad thing to do came to mind. He had lied to get out of school before and had been rewarded with a week of detentions and being grounded for a month. Reluctantly, Matthew pushed the door open.

The ICT room was circular with the computers around the edges, and all the lights were off. The class was sitting on the floor, listening to the teacher tell them what they were going to do today.

The dark room, to Matthew only, suddenly lit up and became sharp. He could not only see the room, but also sense it. This was the ability he had been born with. And Matthew loved it.

He walked slowly to the back of the class, and, as people noticed him, the teacher, Mr Kane, followed him. Mr Kane was a tall man with glasses and a strange scar on his face that, at first glance, made his face appear as if someone had cut it in two and put it back together the wrong way round.

Once Matthew and Mr Kane were at the very back of the classroom, or at least away from the other children, the teacher stared at him. One hour and ten minutes late, Mr Graves, he said in a deadly whisper. Explain! And then he was off, saying things like Never had trouble like this before and You’ll be in big trouble for this and… well you get the idea.

Matthew told his teacher why he was late, saying that his alarm had not gone off; he decided not to mention the dream. After what seemed like hours, the furious teacher stopped, and, red in the face, Matthew walked and sat next to his friend, George.

The teacher slowly walked back to the front of the class and began teaching again.

What was that about? George said in a whisper once Matthew had sat down.

Matthew told him all about the dream in whispers. He didn’t want to give Mr Kane another reason to embarrass him in front of all of his friends—if he could call his class mates his ‘friends’. His best friend, George, was the only person in the class who didn’t hate him. George had long brown hair and was tall—a bit too tall for thirteen, Matthew had thought before but hadn’t pressed the subject. He was at least a head and a half taller than Matthew. George was the type of person that thought logically, and when Matthew had finished telling his strange dream, George chuckled, earning himself an evil stare from Mr Kane.

After ICT, it was break time, a time where either Matthew got hit by the other kids or the teachers bullied him. Today, however, neither happened. He and George enjoyed a peaceful break, in which they sat on the benches at the side of the field, well away from everyone else. George told Matthew about a peculiar dog he’d seen in the street. It had hair that was spiked up so it looked like a dog with spears all over it, and one of its eyes was blue, one green!

The enjoyable yet boring brake was suddenly destroyed by the bell. As people rushed into the building towards the next lesson, George and Matthew walked slowly. You could say they didn’t care for education, but really they were avoiding the great crowds heading to classrooms. One false move in that stampede of people and you get squashed like a bug, and those two, being the most hated in the school, most definitely would be trampled.

As they walked to their next lesson, geography, the clouds rolled past and were replaced by dark thunderclouds. By halfway through geography, in which their teacher was droning on about Iceland, the dark clouds swirled and became a vortex, circling the school. At the end of the lesson, George and Matthew walked outside and noticed the dramatic weather change. It was nearly as dark as if it were midnight.

Matthew said, Weird. Thunder tonight.

But George knew what his friend was thinking about. George was thinking about the same thing—the girl from the dream’s warning, the ultimate darkness. Of course, they both thought in a hurry, it must just be coincidence.

How very wrong they were.

* * *

After their last lesson, maths (Algebra, taught by the smallest teacher in school, Mrs Dalin), the two friends walked home together. George lived four houses down from Matthew, so they always walked home together. On the way home, the weather didn’t improve; it got worse. Thunderclaps that could be heard from ten miles around struck the tops of hills and even very large trees, and rainfall fit for the rainforests in Brazil pelted them all the way home.

Matthew had been to Brazil once with his mum and dad. Dad—Matthew cleared all thoughts of him. A strange feeling came to him. It felt like acid inside him. It was pure fear. But he did not cry out. He thought he would surely have to scream, let out his pain, tell George about his dad, when he saw his friend’s face. Obviously George had noticed he wasn’t listening.

Matthew? he said in a mock soft voice.

Matthew stopped all thoughts of his dad and focused hard on what George was saying. Sorry, what? he said in the best surprised voice he could muster.

George, still looking suspicious, and Matthew talked about nothing but Matthew’s dream and exactly what the strange trio had said to him.

The satyr said, ‘It is coming, Matthew Graves. The one we call our enemy. The gate will open soon.’ And, ‘You will know when it opens. When it does, meet us at four o’clock at your school, front entrance.’

Matthew had retold the story at least four times now and was getting annoyed at the look George kept giving him.

The girl said, ‘it is coming,’ George said through the thunder. Maybe this weather is what she meant. Maybe she was saying to hurry home on your way back from school, or you’ll get soaked. George laughed, and Matthew couldn’t help laughing too.

He was being stupid, thinking a dream was real. But still, if that was the case, then why hadn’t she just told him that.

They laughed, Matthew only half-heartedly, all the way back to their houses, and as George walked up his drive and Matthew continued up the street, they were both still laughing.

It wasn’t until Matthew went to open the front door of his house with the spare key under the welcome mat that he noticed something was very wrong. The door didn’t need opening. It was already open—wide open, swinging on the hinges, letting in the cold and the rain.

Matthew walked slowly and quietly through the door and into the hall. The thunder outside lit up the dark room suddenly. The wallpaper had been scratched and slashed to pieces; the cabinet in the hall was on the ground with all the draws ripped out. Matthew pictured several monsters from his horror book collection destroying his house. Matthew shuddered and walked even more cautiously into the kitchen. This room too looked like a bear had rampaged through it. The kitchen table lay flat on the floor.

After he stopped panicking, Matthew searched all the rooms in the house and found them all ravaged. He was at the door to his mum’s room, just about to enter and check how this one had been changed, when he heard the stairs creak. He spun round and saw, walking up the stairs, his mum.

He sighed; relieved the monster hadn’t come back. His mother’s thin face was stretched into a look of pure horror, her blonde hair nearly hanging all the way to her waist. She was wearing her usual black suit—she was an accountant—but the suit was soaking wet and had several rips in it.

Matthew? She said in a voice full of shock. What happened?

Matthew told her he had only just arrived too.

She walked slowly to her bedroom door, opened it, and walked in. Matthew following cautiously. This room had not been touched, except that there was a small piece of paper lying on the king-sized bed. Matthew’s mum walked over and scooped it up. She read what was written on it and gasped.

Matthew’s Mum quickly stuffed the note in her pocket, turned, and said to Matthew in a cold voice, Go and pack some clothes, enough for at least a week. Her words came out in whispers, but Matthew caught every one.

He walked out of the room and into his own, which was just next door. He grabbed a small suitcase from under his bed and started stuffing some clothes in, questions buzzing in his head. What had the note said? What had half destroyed the house? Why did they have to leave?

After ten minutes of deadly silence throughout the house, his mum’s voice came from her room. Are you ready?

Matthew quickly said, Yeah. And he walked into the hall.

His mum was standing at the top of the stairs clutching a suitcase similar to Matthew’s. We are going to your Aunt Joanna’s for a while.

She paused, and Matthew took full advantage of the hesitation. Why? he asked. What about school?

As his mum beckoned him to follow her down the stairs, she replied, It doesn’t matter why, and school?