Brandon Abroad: The Mystery of the Ruins

By Al Morin

Join Brandon Fletcher on an exciting, mysterious travel adventure!

Ten-year old Brandon Fletcher is in Turkey on an ordinary family holiday. But how ordinary can it be when his new camera is behaving biz

• Language: English
• Publisher: Acorn
• Release date: May 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9781913717490

Book preview

The Boy in the Mosaic

Do I believe in the supernatural? If someone had asked me a few weeks ago, I would have said, No way! Now, my answer would be different, very different. Why have I changed my mind? Well, something happened last summer, when my family and I travelled to Turkey.

In a two-thousand year old mosaic there was this boy…

Chapter 1

The Holiday Begins

She’s not going to like that.

My older sister held her phone above the aeroplane seat and pointed it at Mum, who was slumped peacefully in the row behind us. Her mouth was open and she was making pig-like snuffling sounds.

But while you’re at it, get Dad too, I suggested.

Hayley nodded and angled the phone slightly to the middle seat. Our Dad slept with his head resting on the shoulder of a bearded man who was reading a magazine about electric guitars.

How romantic! Hayley whispered.

Dad wasn’t making any embarrassing noises, but he had a big, stupid smile on his face, and his glasses were at a wonky angle.

Hayley finished filming and twisted back round to play her favourite mobile phone game, Haunted High School II.

Sitting on the other side of me, in the window seat, was my younger sister, Natalie. Eyes locked on the TV screen, she was watching Tom and Jerry throw snooker balls at each other. Tom crashed into an old-fashioned drinks vending machine, which spat the cat out in the shape of a bottle, and my sister exploded into a fit of muted giggles.

There are three children in this family. Like my current seating position, I’m in the middle. Exactly halfway. Hayley is thirteen, Natalie is seven.

(13 + 7) ÷ 2 = 10. I, Brandon Fletcher, am 10 years old.

Yes! whooped Hayley. I just zapped a Grade 4 ghost in the school cafeteria.

There’s no such thing as ghosts, I said flatly.

"It’s a game, dumbo."

"I know it’s a game. I was only saying that when people die, they don’t— The Fasten Seatbelt" light pinged and flashed twice.

Seatbelts, children. Mum was awake. She started packing her handbag with unused items from the flight meal: plastic cutlery, a sachet of sugar, one stale bread roll, and an unopened, scented face wipe.

"Alex, they do have shops and restaurants where we’re going, you know." My dad yawned, adjusting his glasses and sitting up straight.

Yes, Julian, but remember what my mother always says.

"When are you going to get a four-slice toaster?!" I said, imitating my grandmother’s high, squeaky voice.

Dad laughed. Spot on, Brandon!

Mum glared at me good-naturedly. "Your nan also says—"

My ears hurt. Natalie cupped both hands to the sides of her head.

Here, Nat. Mum reached into her bag and handed Natalie something. Chew on this.

Bubble gum?

Dad cleared his throat purposefully.

No, Dad, pleaded Hayley. Please, no lectures…

Hayley and I wound up one another on a regular basis, but there was one area where we were in perfect harmony: Dad. Don’t get me wrong – he’s the best father in the world – he has a coffee mug with those words to prove it - but he reads far too much science and history.

The reason for ear pain when flying is quite fascinating, he began. The eardrum, a thin membrane located—

Yes! Goodbye geography teacher’s ghost and hello bonus points!

"I’m sure somebody wants to hear about blocked ears?" Dad asked hopefully.

Complete silence… then:

"Well, I’d like to hear," said the bearded man with the magazine.

Thanks a lot, Mr Electric Guitar!

Our dad proceeded to explain how the air pressure in an aeroplane changes, which pushes on the eardrum from the outside. This increased pressure causes pain. "When you chew gum, suck on a sweet or even yawn, air from your mouth pushes the eardrum from the inside. When that equalises the two pressures, then the eardrum returns to its normal position. We hear a ‘pop’. The pain stops."

Believe it or not, Mr Electric Guitar and a few other passengers started clapping!

At that moment, there was an announcement, telling the cabin crew to prepare for landing.

We’re nearly there, children, said Mum.

Wow! They’re amazing! said Natalie, gazing out the small aeroplane window. Hayley, do you want to look at these mountains?

I don’t think so, Hayley said dismissively. They have boring, old mountains on the school computer screensavers.

Natalie idolises her older sister. Hayley likes Natalie, but she rarely shows it. Natalie is very easy-going, so usually isn’t bothered by Hayley’s sarcastic comments. And when she needs some attention, there’s always me!

"Brandon? Do you want to look?"

I leaned over Natalie. I could see a massive range of craggy, grey mountains. And the sea. And a city.

The plane banked sharply to the left. As it again levelled off, a strange feeling came over me – a compulsion to look back… towards the mountains. It felt like something – or someone - was silently calling out to me.

There’s the airport! Natalie squealed.

Huh?

The runway’s getting closer!

I liked flying. It was coming back down I had problems with. One-hundred tons of metal hitting the earth at two-hundred miles an hour. Scary thought!

I felt the plane’s landing gear grind open, and I sat upright and gripped the armrests of my seat.

BUMP! The plane shook and rattled as if it would fall to pieces. Then, the shaking stopped, the plane slowed down and eventually we came to a complete stop, just short of the airport’s modern terminal. I released my grip on the armrests and breathed a sigh of relief.

Our holiday in Turkey was about to begin.

Chapter 2

Home Away from Home

It must’ve been about a thousand degrees!

Once off the plane, we had moved quickly and uneventfully through passport control and the baggage claim area. Now we stood outside, under the ANTALYA INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT sign, squinting in the glare of the late afternoon sun and feeling the heat of the pavement slowly baking our trainers.

It’s five o’clock, Dad said, looking at his watch. He looked beyond a queue of yellow government taxis, scanning the large car park. Ah, I think… that’s our contact. Pulling our suitcases behind us, we followed Dad to a parked white minivan. There, a man leaned against the van, smoking a cigarette. He was shorter than my father, and much older. Even in this heat, he wore a jumper and a jacket!

Hello… Dad said, reading from a piece of crumpled paper, … Mr Gunesh?

The man smiled and nodded, shaking my dad’s extended hand. Flicking away the remains of his cigarette, he then quickly loaded our suitcases into the back of the minivan.

We all climbed in. Mr Gunesh started the engine, turned on the air conditioning, and we were on our way!

I had been to Spain