Down the Treacle Well

By Ellis Nelson

While visiting a museum in England, Ben and Kyle experience the extraordinary. Gazing at the Alfred Jewel, an ancient Anglo-Saxon artifact, they watch as it spins, contorts, and evaporates from its case, taking them with it.

Whisked back to Victorian England, the brothers are shocked to find themselves sprawled on the floor be

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tuxtails Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Nov 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9781957211152

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

December 1, 1864

Oxford

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Atall, thin man dressed in black clerical garb paused only long enough to rip the note from his apartment door. He smiled, recognizing the handwriting. Mr. Dodgson, it read, in the neat hand of the dear child. Perhaps it was an invitation to tea, a poem, or even one of her drawings. Quickly through the door, the professor went straight to his desk and, using his letter opener, he forced the envelope open. The thick, cream-colored stationary was from the special stock she had procured in the village, and he knew she used it only for special occasions. He scanned the short note and his heart lurched. His gray-gloved hands reached for the back of the chair to steady himself.

CHAPTER TWO

Today

Oxford

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Ben shivered and pulled his younger brother under a store awning. It was drizzling again. Who would have thought Oxford would be like this in December? He had expected a quaint little English village dusted in fresh snow, but instead, he was smack in a major city babysitting Kyle while his mother attended yet another conference. Sighing, he dug in his backpack for his map. He pulled it out and flicked it open. They were on the right street this time, thankfully. A few more turns and they’d be back within the university confines.

Ben glanced toward his ten-year-old brother. He was at it again. While leaning against a building, Kyle had pulled back his waterproof windbreaker hood, revealing a mass of red curly hair. Ben watched as Kyle’s fingers danced on the unsharpened pencil he always seemed to be carrying; all the while Kyle smiled to himself.

Can’t you just give it a rest? Ben said.

Nope. I’m going to get this tune memorized.

Put it away.

Kyle shook his head, ignoring the request. Ben fumed. Ever since Kyle had begun playing the bagpipes, he used his nervous energy to tap out songs, usually on a pencil. Why did little brothers have to be such a pain?

Now! Ben said, a little louder than he had intended.

Kyle’s smile evaporated as he slipped the pencil into his jeans’ pocket.

A small man in a long coat and bowler hat ducked under a portico to Ben’s left. Not only was his dress odd (no one wore hats like that nowadays), but the tight smile that formed when he made eye contact made Ben decidedly uncomfortable. But why? So what if some old guy grinned at you in a creepy way? There were just as many strange people back home. Ben dismissed it and turned back to his brother.

Ben leaned toward Kyle. Look, it’s really important you don’t tell Mom. If she finds out we went outside the university, she’ll never let us go off on our own again.

We could tell her we got lost, Kyle countered.

Are you an idiot? How is that any better? We still couldn’t go anywhere. She’d think we’d get lost again.

I guess, Kyle said. He looked down at his shoes.

That goes for Dad, too. He’ll be here in a few days. You’ll remember, right? Ben said.

Yeah. Where are we going now, anyway? Kyle ran his hand over his pocket making sure his pencil was still there.

Told you. We head back to the university. To Christ Church. Try to keep up this time, Ben said. He quickly checked his watch and then glanced sideways. The bowler-hatted man was gone. They had hours before they’d have to meet Mom for lunch.

Ben ducked back out into the thickening rain. Fog descended on them, making him feel uncomfortable and claustrophobic. The boys made their way through the streets and every once and a while Ben checked behind him to make sure Kyle was following. It wouldn’t do to lose his brother someplace that they weren’t even allowed to be.

Finally, they made the turn onto St. Aldates. The rain intensified, coming faster and more violently. When it started to feel like a drenched dishtowel had been wrung out overtop of them, Ben once again pulled Kyle into shelter.

In a doorway painted bright red, the boys stood huddled together. Ben spotted the bowler-hatted man again. The man hurried down the street turning his head from side to side, looking for something, Ben presumed. The hair on the back of Ben’s neck rose as the man drew closer and locked eyes on the location of the brothers. Not possible, Ben thought. He can’t be following us. There’s no reason for it. The bowler-hatted man stared straight ahead as he passed the boys. The heavy feeling in Ben’s chest dissipated as soon as the man proceeded down the street without ever looking back. Ben realized he’d been scaring himself unnecessarily.

The wind picked up, and the shop’s sign hanging above them swung back and forth, creaking in protest. Ben gazed up and saw the words Alice’s Shop. It sounded like a ladies clothing store that his mother might frequent. Then, Ben was forced to move to one side as a middle-aged couple stepped outside.

Just say what you mean, Edward, the woman said with irritation.

The man harrumphed and replied into his coat collar, I always say what I mean. Or, that is, I always mean what I say.

The woman laughed at the comment, although neither Ben nor Kyle understood why. The man raised and opened his umbrella and the couple moved away. Ben shot a sideways glance toward his backpack. Why hadn’t he packed his umbrella? He had planned on bringing it. But somehow in the morning rush he’d left it sitting on his bed back at the hotel.

Finally, the rain slowed enough for them to continue. They made steady progress down the wet sidewalk. Ben felt relieved to see the university ahead of them.

That’s Pembroke College! Ben said pointing across the street. "That’s where Tolkien wrote The Hobbit."

Kyle paused and threw off his hood. His round features were made ruddy by physical exertion and the chill of the morning air. "And Lord of the Rings?"

Ben shrugged. Maybe.

"I think Lord of the Rings was better than The Hobbit," Kyle said.

Ben rolled his eyes. You haven’t read either of them.

But I saw the movies.

Whatever. Come on. We’re almost there.

Ben took a sharp right and led Kyle down Broad Walk. The visitor entrance to Christ Church College was straight ahead. Outside an open metal gate sat two wooden benches. On such a cold and dreary morning, Ben wasn’t surprised that no one was hanging around. He and Kyle darted through the gate, finding themselves safe behind the college’s walls.

The rain stopped, but dark clouds still hung heavy above them. Both boys threw off their hoods and shook off their windbreakers. Ben looked around to get his bearings. Huge gothic buildings, stained black by centuries of weather, surrounded the boys, giving them a sense of permanence and history they had never experienced before.

Let’s kill some time here and then maybe go to one of the museums, Ben said.

It reminds me of a castle, Kyle said. His sense of fun bubbled to the top. Immediately, he tucked his left hand behind him and extended his right. You owe me a sword fight, he demanded.

I do not. How can anyone ‘owe’ somebody a sword fight?

You just do, Kyle persisted.

Ben spun around and walked off muttering, You don’t even have a sword.

Kyle ran after him. It’s pretend! It’d be better with real swords though. Do you think Mom will let us buy some?

Doubt it, Ben said.

Maybe we could convince Dad when he gets here, Kyle said.

Maybe. But Ben didn’t say it like it was a real possibility.

As they moved ahead, Ben felt he and his brother had been transported back in time. Jack the Ripper could be lurking around any turn. Ben wished the sun would come out or at least that they’d run into some people. The quiet and the atmosphere were starting to unnerve him a little. Meanwhile, Kyle had his head thrown back, trying to take in all the sights. If Kyle was creeped out at all, he wasn’t showing it.

Finally, the walkway opened a bit and they found themselves in a courtyard near Christ Church Cathedral. There, they found an older couple huddled near one of the doorways reading a travel brochure. The man’s British accent carried in the small space and Ben felt relieved to be amongst other tourists.

Ben leaned against a small wooden fence separating them from a tiny lawn running alongside the cathedral. Now that he had found human companionship, he was not eager to leave the courtyard.

Are you hungry? he asked Kyle.

Kyle giggled. Always.

Ben dug into his backpack and brought out two breakfast bars. As they ate their snack, they watched as the couple circled the area and wandered away. Ben fought his first impulse to follow them. He glanced skyward and wondered if the day would ever clear up. Florida was not like this. He was used to storms that moved through quickly, but here in the UK it could stay cloudy and rainy for days at a time. If it got cold enough, it might even snow. Snow might actually be fun. It had been ages since he and Kyle had seen snow. That last time, they had sledded down a hill near their grandparent’s house in Oregon. Kyle wasn’t even in school then. That’s how long ago it was.

From somewhere deep in Ben’s pack, his cell phone vibrated. It continued to hum as Ben thrust his hand inside. Rummaging past the sweater Mom insisted he carry in case one of them needed it, he finally grasped the phone and pulled it out.

Hello?

Ben?

Yeah.

Hi. It’s Dad.

Already Kyle was tugging at his arm to find out who it was. Ben turned away from him.

How’re you doing? Dad asked.

We’re okay. Mom’s at the conference and Kyle and I are exploring, Ben said.

Good. I tried your mother’s phone but didn’t get her. I’m in Johannesburg finishing up. I should be there late tomorrow. As a wildlife filmmaker, Dad was often away in remote locations. For the past month, he and his crew had been in the field in South Africa filming the interactions of lions and elephants. Ben was glad to hear his father’s voice and know that soon he’d be with them.

How are the meetings going? Have you learned anything new? Dad asked.

No. Mom hasn’t said much yet.

And Kyle’s sessions, are they still planned for later in the week?

I guess so, Ben said becoming somewhat bored with the constant focus on Kyle and his abilities.

Well, great. Put Kyle on so I can say hello.

Ben handed the phone to Kyle. Kyle walked off across the courtyard seeking privacy and maybe getting back at Ben for not answering him earlier. Ben could hear his brother laughing, obviously amused by what Dad was saying.

Frowning, Ben glanced around trying to distract himself from what he was feeling. It wasn’t working. The only reason they had come to England was so that Mom could attend a conference on synesthesia. Kyle had it, but Ben still didn’t understand it all that well. Somehow synesthesia involved a crossing of senses. It was a phenomenon where the stimulation of one sense leads to an automatic experience in another sense. The condition took many different forms because the five senses could be paired up in many ways. Seeing a shape could produce a taste or hearing a sound could produce a smell. It was truly weird, and Ben had trouble wrapping his mind around the idea.

Recently, everyone in the family had learned that Kyle was a synesthete. When Kyle heard music, he saw color. It was a bizarre condition that Ben couldn’t relate to. But it was real and as a neurologist, Mom was fascinated by it. She had run into a few cases of it in her practice over the years, but when it was discovered that Kyle had a form of it, she threw herself into learning all there was to know about it. Somehow, it was important for the whole family to attend this conference. Ben’s Tai Kwando classes and a crucial meet all had to be missed for this. Not exactly fair.

Dad wants to talk you, Kyle yelled.

Ben strolled over to him and took the phone. Hello.

Hey, Ben. Don’t forget to tell your Mom I called. I’ll send you some photos later. There’s a fantastic one with a baby elephant. And I’ll see you tomorrow night. Gotta go. Bye.

Ben placed the phone back into his backpack and slid it over his shoulder. Despite Dad’s call, the courtyard felt oppressively lonely, and Ben decided to follow the couple inside a building on his left. Quickly, the boys ducked inside. An enormous staircase rose to the floor above and Ben sprinted up it, taking the stairs two at a time. Reaching the top, he spun around and found Kyle behind him panting breathlessly.

Recognize it? Ben beamed.

It’s from the Harry Potter movie. This is where Professor McGonagall welcomes Harry and all the first-years, Kyle said.

When Mom first told them they’d be going to Oxford, she challenged them to find the sites where some of the movie scenes had been filmed. The boys gravitated towards a railing overlooking the open entranceway. Ben’s eye was drawn up to the ceiling where an ornate vaulted roof enclosed them. Both boys had seen this image prominently displayed in travel books about Oxford.

I want to tell her about the stairs! Kyle said.

Okay. You get this one and I’ve got the next, Ben said. He had a feeling that something even more important lay just ahead. And over the last few months, Ben had come to trust and even rely on that niggling sense of knowing he sometimes got. This was one of those times. Ben turned away from his brother and walked through a heavy wooden doorway, framed by a stone arch.

Reaching a high-ceilinged gallery with portraits and simple benches, Ben paused momentarily. That feeling grew stronger. Certainty rose within him, and he marched to a set of open red doors. This was it. He was sure. With Kyle alongside him, the brothers stepped beyond the threshold and into the great hall.

A huge space opened before them. High overhead, massive wooden arches connected the walls of the building. Three lines of tables with hundreds of chairs ran lengthwise down the hall. Even with many high windows, the room was dark and a bit gloomy. Resting on dark library paneling, a copious quantity of oil portraits hung, all of important men of their day, but totally unknown to the boys. A heavy burden of history grounded the room, making even Kyle abandon his desire to crack jokes. Together they wandered down one side of the room stopping every once in a while to take in the name of some long-ago Churchman or governmental official.

To Ben, the place was oddly familiar. He didn’t recognize or remember the room, exactly. It was more like that bizarre feeling of déjà vu. Ben felt as if he’d been there before, and then, it finally hit him. He chuckled as he realized that this, too, was from Harry Potter. The movie had used certain elements of this room in its construction of the great hall at Hogwarts. He’d report that back to Mom.

Kyle reached the far side of the room first because Ben had stopped in front of a stained-glass window trying to get his bearings. Outside, the gray morning persisted, and Ben wondered if their whole visit in Oxford would feel this dreary. If only the weather would break. Ben went to his brother, who now stood under a large painting hanging dead center on the wall.

This is the only guy I recognize, Kyle said.

Ben nodded. Henry the VIII. He founded the college. Remember, Mom read that to us on the plane. It was called King’s College back then. But you know him too, Ben said, pointing to a bronze bust just below the Tudor monarch.

No, I don’t, Kyle said.

Yes, you do. Look at it. See the crown?

Ummm. Still don’t know, Kyle said as he turned to go.

That’s the King! Like, as in, the current King of England, Charles III, Ben said.

If you say so, Kyle said. He sounded bored.

The clatter of dishes and the tinkling of glassware made the boys turn to face into the room. Several attendants had entered and begun to set the tables for a function.

We should get going, Ben said.

The brothers kept closely to the wall as they made their way past the busy workers and toward the exit. This time, neither of them stopped to read the names beneath the portraits. Kyle left the room without a glance backwards, but Ben was drawn to a single portrait near the door. It was no bigger than any of the others, and the man portrayed had to be of far less importance than many of the others because he had none of the fancy clothes or symbols of wealth and power most of the other portraits contained. Captured for posterity, a gray-haired man dressed in simple black attire looked to the right. His face was set in an expression that was unreadable. Mounted on the frame, engraved on small gold label were the words Reverend Charles L. Dodgson and underneath that Lewis Carroll.

From Ben’s backpack came the familiar buzz of his cell phone.

CHAPTER THREE

Ben reached for his phone knowing that Dad’s photos had just arrived. He confirmed what he already knew and went to find Kyle, who was standing by the staircase. Kyle was in his musical world again. He clutched at the pencil, pretending it was his practice chanter.

Let’s go outside, Ben called as he breezed by him.

At the bottom of the stairs, Ben stopped short. There was the bowler-hatted man again. Seeing him positioned alongside a table with travel maps and university brochures made sense. The old-fashioned clothes were merely a uniform to make the guards stand out against the constant stream of students and visitors to the university. But this wasn’t just any guard; this was the man that had appeared to be following them. Here he was again. What was the likelihood that they’d run into him twice outside the college and once again here?

What’s up? Kyle asked, edging up behind Ben.

Nothing, but haven’t we seen that guy an awful lot today?

What guy?

The guard.

They’re all over the place. Come on. Kyle walked toward an open courtyard.

Maybe they’re supposed to be, Ben thought, but this one is the only one we’ve seen all morning.

This way to Tom Quad, the bowler-hatted man said. He pointed outside.

The brothers emerged into a large courtyard surrounded on all sides by a two-storied structure. The crenellated roofline and towers reminded Ben of castles and knights. A walkway circled the brown lawn with two paths bisecting the circle into perfect quarters. Ben saw a fountain and pond in the center and headed for it.

Even with the overall darkness of the day, the air felt lighter out here away from the direct imposition of all those serious, important men of the past. Ben had the eerie feeling that the great hall was still filled with their presences even though most of them had been in their graves for