Arthur Good and the Kingdom of Souls

By Carl B. Harrison

At eleven years old, Arthur Good has what is called acute Pareidolia, an amazing gift that lets him see the hidden things inside everyday objects. His gift has revealed a hidden world that coexists alongside this one, after Arthur answers a help wanted sign that only someone with his ability could have seen, the unusual job changes Arthur's life forever. Working at Hagedell Castle for Sir William Elden, he must try to remove a family curse, unfortunately, becoming involved in a centuries old feud with an immortal king. Helped by a new friend, Penny Black, a blind girl who has acute audio Pareidolia, they work together to solve the clues that will reveal the doorways into another world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Apr 9, 2018
• ISBN: 9780244979997

Book preview

book.

ARTHUR’S WORLD

SPRINGING INTO LIFE from its ticking slumber, the alarm clock rang. The chime of the old-fashioned bells woke eleven-year-old Arthur Good from his peaceful sleep, and he pulled back the bed covers from over his head and slowly opened his eyes. The alarm continued to ring, despite Arthur’s wishes.

Okay, I heard you, I’m getting up! he said, glaring at the clock which seemed to be glaring straight back at him. There’s no reason to look at me that way. The hands on the clock told Arthur it was half past five but, for some odd reason, its face was looking stern. Arthur stopped the noise by pressing the button on the top. Oh well, at least you’re happy, he mumbled, and he yawned, noticing the clock now had a pleased expression on its numbered face, as if at a job well done.

As he stood up and stretched he glanced around his bedroom that was lit mostly by the street light outside his window. It was very early in the morning and the sun had not yet risen. The room was full of dark shapes and strange shadows that, as Arthur looked at them, seemed to shift and change before his eyes. They began to appear more like people than shadows; animals and all manner of weird and wonderful things took form in the darkness. Arthur, unimpressed, switched on his bedside lamp and the shapes vanished. He wasn’t bothered by the unearthly dancing shadows; he had seen them all before.

He stood and looked at himself in the mirror and scratched at his head. Even his unruly and spiky hair looked pleased he was up and out of bed. He rolled his eyes at the mirror and began to get dressed.

Arthur was up early as he was most mornings, thanks to his job of delivering newspapers for the local newsagent. It was heavy work and meant early nights to bed, but Arthur’s grandmother relied on him as she was too old and tired to work. Arthur would do odd jobs for people to earn extra money where he could; his grandmother had looked after Arthur alone since he had been four years old, and he felt he should return the favour. He was eleven now and was counting down the days until his twelfth birthday. His grandmother had told him she had something special to give him, and had said it in such a way that he couldn’t help but wonder with excitement at what it was.

Arthur and his gran lived in a small bungalow. Though small, it was always well kept and clean. His gran was strict but fair and Arthur loved her. Arthur’s mother and father had gone missing long ago, and were presumed dead. All his gran would tell him was that they had both worked for the same museum and they had gone to an unknown country to bring back an unknown something to England on a ship. Arthur used to imagine they were on a tropical island together and that one day they would be rescued and brought home. This thought brought him happiness, but then the sadness would settle when he thought about how unlikely it was to come true.

Arthur made his way to the kitchen dressed in his school uniform. His blazer had a badge on the top left pocket showing a coat of arms: two crossed swords, a golden crown and the letters HHS printed smartly at the bottom. He sat at the table and ate his breakfast, and peered long and hard into his cereal bowl, which at first looked like plain old cereal, but as he stared it turned into a beautiful country cottage with a milk-flowing stream in front of it. Arthur demolished the cottage with his spoon as he reached for another mouthful, and in its place he saw a miniature milk mountain with birds flying around its glistening peaks. Again, unaffected by what he saw, Arthur wiped it out with a wave of his spoon in order to start on the toast.

Arthur’s world is a different one to yours or mine, you see, for he has an amazing ability: he can see faces and forests and myriad amazing things hidden in the objects he looks at. Most people who look at the clouds and the random patterns created by nature can see faces and things too, but not to the extent that Arthur sees them. When he looks at the sky, or a tree blowing in the wind, what Arthur sees is incredible, seemingly another world. He discovered that most people don’t see the world as he does when he was seven years old and had asked a girl at school if she could see the man smiling at them from his lunchbox. The girl had gotten angry with Arthur and had shouted, NO! She had never told him what she had seen and never spoke to him again after that.

The same thing happened again and again; Arthur would see strange and wondrous things, and he would ask people with him if they could they see them too. But it was always the same; they would look at him as though he was weird or, worse, they would bully him and call him names.

At school, when not in class, Arthur spent most of his time on his own, reading comics that he would buy from the newsagent’s that he worked for. When he wasn’t reading he would retreat into his own world and look at things in a way that no one else could. He had no control over the things he saw: some things around him would come to life and make him laugh, but sometimes what he could see scared him, and he didn’t like those things at all. He would close his eyes and wish never to see them again.

With his toast finished, and the marmalade seas he saw in them gone as well, Arthur’s grandmother walked into the kitchen. She leaned over and kissed him on the top of the head, the way she did every morning before he left for school. She was a plumpish, small, grey-haired lady in her seventies and spoke a lot more clearly than Arthur did. He often wondered why she spoke so ‘posh’, as he didn’t at all. Although he couldn’t remember how his mother and father had spoken, he just thought she must be putting it on. Sometimes she would slip and then he’d hear her northern accent shine through, which would make Arthur chuckle to himself.

Gran, I might be a bit late tonight after school, he said. There’s something I’ve been meaning to check out. It might be another job for me.

Arthur’s grandmother always got embarrassed when he talked about his odd jobs; she felt bad that he was only eleven and was having to work for them both.

You don’t have to do any more than you already do, Arthur, she told him. We’ll manage, so don’t worry, everything will be fine. How can it not be when you’re turning out so fine? She tried to hold back her tears, and she smiled. She was proud of Arthur, not just because he shared the little money he earned, but because he had managed so well without his mother and father. He never complained about not having new clothes to wear or the latest mobile phones the other children had. She hoped Arthur knew how proud she felt.

Arthur opened the front door of the bungalow and headed out into the cold morning. It was very bright, he thought, and as he exhaled he saw his breath form into a small white dragon, though it faded away as he stepped forwards, passing right through it.

Arthur didn’t mind most of the walk to Mr Tibbs’ newsagents. There was just one thing that did bother him and that was the street he had to walk past that gave him the chills. The reason he got the chills walking past this street was that he could see houses within houses, and they looked more real to him than the other things he could normally see. It was like there were two worlds, and he could see both worlds at once. It was only here that he felt like this, so it made him nervous. When he reached it he walked hurriedly past the troubling row of houses, but glancing sideways and out of the corner of his eye he could see what looked like whispery, smoky people watching him. They were looking out of their whispery, smoky houses that mingled in with the other houses in the street. It always happened as he walked this way to school. Once past the street, Arthur slowed his pace and continued on his way, relieved as always to have left it all behind.

THE HELP WANTED SIGN

AS USUAL, A cheery brass bell on top of the newsagent’s door rang as Arthur entered. His boss was an old man with a big red nose and who stood behind the counter full of sweets and other tasty treats, just as Arthur always pictured him. Mr Tibbs looked up from his papers at the sound of the bell.

Good morning, Arthur. How’s your gran this morning? he said.

She’s fine, Mr Tibbs, Arthur said, as he made a start on sorting the newspapers to be delivered that morning. You know what she’s like, always up before me and tidying the house.

Mr Tibbs smiled. He had a fondness for Arthur and his gran. He knew they didn’t have much, and he respected them for managing as well as they did. He got sick and tired of hearing his customers complain, especially when most of them had very little to complain about.

Yes! She is a fine woman, your gran. A fine woman indeed. You tell her I asked after her, will you? And if there is anything I can do to help you only have to ask. Mr. Tibbs tapped his nose with his finger and winked.

Arthur suspected that Mr Tibbs had a thing for his gran and always had done since she and Mr Tibbs were young. But his gran had said many times to Arthur that there was only ever one man for her, and that was his grandfather, who was also gone. She missed him a lot; Arthur often heard her talking to him as though he was there. The conversations he heard seemed dull and one sided to Arthur, but who was he to judge, when most of the people he saw weren’t there either?

I will pass on your regards, Mr Tibbs, but I’m sure she’ll be here herself later for her boiled sweets. I think she’s run out, Arthur said, with a grin and a wink of his own.

Mr Tibbs, catching on, looked quickly around at all the sweets, treats, and lozenges behind the counter, but was unable to see her favourites.

Oh dear, he said, I seem to have run out of them, too. Feeling panicky, he slid a ladder over to the vast wall of sweet jars, clambered up to the Lemon ‘n’ Lime Fizz shelf and let out a loud whoop! of relief, almost losing his footing. It’s alright, Arthur! There’s another jar behind the empty one! Mr Tibbs was pleased; he prided himself on always having exactly what his customers wanted.

Arthur watched as his boss climbed back down the wooden ladder and placed the sweets on the counter, as if they’d run away if he didn’t keep his beady eye on them. This done, he turned back to Arthur holding up a magazine.

I forgot to tell you, the latest issue of ‘The Hooded Crow’ is in.

Arthur grinned. Could you take it from my next wages please? he said with a smile. He loved his comics and ‘The Hooded Crow’ was the best. Often he would find a quiet place at break times and read the whole thing in one go, but he had other more important things on his mind today.

Arthur looked towards the notice board on the wall. Some of the notices were very funny and would make him laugh, while others made no sense to him. He was never sure if the adverts he was looking at were real, a figment of his imagination, or someone playing silly jokes.

‘Rusty Bike For Sale. Needs oiling, but if you don’t mind the squeak there is nothing wrong with it. Also Needs Wheels, £20.’ Or, ‘Lost Cat wanted. Black and white, answers to Einstein, likes bacon and the X factor.’

Arthur would always look at the adverts on the wall if he had time in the morning, and this morning one of them had caught his eye. It read: ‘Help Wanted at Hagedell. Persons applying must be punctual, helpful, quick, and VERY observant. If you have these qualities, apply personally to Hagedell Castle. Hours are flexible and can be worked to suit the applicant.’

Arthur was intrigued: he felt that he was exactly right for the position. He could see things other people couldn’t see; how much more observant could someone be? As for the other requirements, he was all of those things, too, he thought.  Arthur pointed at the sign and turned to Mr Tibbs.

Do you know who put this advert on the wall?

Mr Tibbs scratched his head. Which one are you talking about? He peered over to where Arthur was pointing.

This one here. The one for a job at Hagedell Castle. Arthur pointed again at the sign.

Mr Tibbs walked slowly around the shop counter and stared at where Arthur was pointing, but all he could see was an advertisement for a chimney sweep which showed a man holding a brush in his hand. He scratched his head again. He was used to Arthur pointing out things he couldn’t see