Inspirational Wink and the Altogether Extraordinary Notebook

By Delaney Evers

Sixty years old and considered perfectly ordinary, Inspirational Wink has never left the small town of Whisper. She's been happy to work the farm with her parents and occasionally wonder what lies beyond the Three Creek Bridge.

All that changes when the death of her father reveals a secret and a task that falls to her and her alone. She must retrieve the Notebook of Whim, a powerful, magical object hidden years before by her mother, so that it can be destroyed.

It's either complete this quest or be nagged by her mother for the rest of time. So, off she goes.

But she's not the only one in search of the notebook, and along the way she encounters magical creatures and very human enemies, all determined to claim the notebook for themselves. Not at all surprising, as the notebook grants whatever wish is written on its pages. 

Luckily, she has a mouse, a pink horse, and a band of companions to help her along the way. With their help, she is determined to outfight — and outwit— anyone or anything that gets in the way of her search and, more importantly, of her return home.

Because if she fails and the notebook falls into the wrong hands, her mother's life— and her entire world— could be destroyed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: 235 Alexander Street
• Release date: Nov 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9780998033457

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Chapter 1

They lowered Steadfast Wink into his grave on a cold and rainy spring morning. The ceremony was brief but well attended. After all, Steadfast had been born and raised in the small town of Whisper, and all his children had stayed within the community, becoming active and useful citizens.

Afterward, his only daughter, Inspirational Wink returned to the farmhouse with her mother, the same farmhouse Inspirational had been born in and had continued to live in for all of her sixty years. She stood on the front porch and looked around at the farm she had spent her whole life tending and said, very quietly,

My heart is broken.

She had loved her father with all of her being. She and Steadfast had worked the farm together. They had been a team, from the time when, as a little girl, she would follow her father around on sturdy legs, ready to help. Whenever Steadfast said aloud he was going to go somewhere or do something, his tiny daughter would nod and say, Good Idea giving her the nickname that, in Steadfast’s opinion, suited her much more than the unusual and—dare he say it— flamboyant name given to her by her mother.

I’ve never heard of anyone else named Inspirational, he said, gazing down at the wriggling bundle in his arms.

I know, his wife Belladona sighed happily. She will be one of a kind.

"But what does Inspirational mean, exactly?" Steadfast asked.

I’m sure we’ll find out in time, she answered.

Belladona then promised him that he could name any further progeny, and she kept that promise. Which was why the three subsequent Wink sons were named in accordance with Steadfast’s straightforward and logical brain: Second, Third and Fourth.

Those names, by the way, were not as unusual in Whisper as one might think.

Good Idea spent a sleepless night—or three—tossing and turning, thinking over the conversation she’d had with her brother, Second, as they walked together in the rain behind Steadfast’s coffin. Fighting back tears, Good Idea explained to Second her fear, and gave him what she thought was the logical solution to her problem. He had agreed. All she had to do now was convince her mother to move past her grief and act in the best interest of the farm. For as much as Good Idea had loved her father, the farm was her priority.

The next morning the rain had stopped. Sitting in the sunny kitchen, the painted cabinets scrubbed clean, the slate floor swept, Belladona sat upright in her wheelchair. Years ago, the strength in her legs began to slowly wither away, the exact reason impossible to name by even the most learned doctor from Mirror City. Clear gray eyes staring straight ahead, thin-lipped and silent, she listened as Good Idea explained what she and her brother had decided.

Second’s two youngest sons, Before and After, will move into the extra bedrooms and continue to work the farm, Good Idea explained. I’ll supervise. After all, I’m not as young as I used to be. Good Idea managed a wry chuckle. And things can continue, just as before. Her voice gave away her relief. Things would continue as before. That was what had become the focus of Good Idea’s thoughts since her father fell dead while milking his favorite cow. I can’t take any more changes, and I don’t think you can either.

Belladona took a deep breath and clasped her hands together, close to her heart. You have been the most loving of daughters, Belladona said. You have devoted your life to your father and me. And I am grateful. I really am. Having Before and After here will certainly keep the farm going. But you cannot just continue your life here. It is time for you to go out into the world.

Good Idea shook her head. First of all, she said, it was a joy to care for you and help father. I could not have asked for anything more from my life. And she meant it. Working the farm, the gardens, and tending the animal had brought her a simple happiness every day of her life.

Belladona rolled her eyes. Honestly, Good Idea, if I hadn’t been awake for your entire birth, and hadn’t held you in my arms and looked into your eyes the second you drew breath, I would wonder if you were, indeed, a child of my womb. If spending your whole life on this farm and doing nothing but chores is your idea of joy, it’s only because you are, without a doubt, the least imaginative person I have ever encountered. You are truly your father’s daughter.

Good Idea stared. Mother?

Belladona flapped a hand, as though waving away a bothersome gnat. Don’t ‘Mother’ me. You have spent your entire life in Whisper. You never ventured farther than the Three Creek Market. You never went to a dance, or even a school potluck. It’s my fault, I suppose, for not pushing you earlier, because I must admit having you around has made my life much easier. But now Steadfast is gone. Her voice choked and tears clouded her eyes. I have a job that must be done, and it will be all the more difficult because you are, well, you.

Good Idea drew back, shocked at the words. Mother, everything I ever needed was right here! What else could I ask for? Why would I go anywhere else?

Because there’s more to life than what you need, that’s why. What about what you want?

I want to be here, Good Idea insisted. I want to live out the rest of my life here in Whisper, on this farm. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.

Which was almost true. She had, in all her years, often wondered what lay beyond the curve of road that led away from Whisper. But every time she had thought about maybe doing something about it, a cow needed to be milked, a sheep shorn, a garden planted, or a crop harvested, and she never got beyond the thinking.

Belladona gripped the arms of her wheelchair. Then I’m very sorry, Good Idea, because that is not what your future holds. Not your immediate future, anyway.

Good Idea reached for her mother’s hand. I know how upset you are, so I understand. I’m sure that after a month or two has passed, you’ll—

Belladona shook her head. A month or two won’t change a thing, Good Idea. I loved your father with all of my heart and soul, but he was a man with little imagination. That was the hardest thing for me to get used to. And to watch you, my oldest child, the one I had pinned all my hopes on, to turn out just like him? Well, that almost broke my heart. But it doesn’t matter. Belladona gripped Good Idea’s hand in both of hers and squeezed tightly. You must leave Whisper.

Good Idea stared at her mother. Leave Whisper?

Belladona nodded. Yes. You must go to Mirror City for me and retrieve something of great value. I left it there for safekeeping, but now that Steadfast is gone, I need it back, and, obviously, I can’t get it myself. You have to go.

To Mirror City? Good Idea repeated slowly. The capital of all the Western Realms?

Belladona nodded.

I’ve never been there before, Good Idea said.

You’ve never been anywhere before.

But that’s…far.

Yes, Belladona agreed. It certainly is.

How would I get there?

You must ride there on a strawberry roan horse. That is how I left Mirror City, and, well, it’s all rather complicated. She reached into the front of her dress and drew out a small pouch, a bit bigger than a perrin fruit, on a long, silk cord. Good Idea had never seen her mother without it.

Belladona untied the pouch and turned it over. Several gold coins spilled out onto Belladona’s lap, a small ring, a large, rusted key, a yellowed piece of paper folded over three or four times, and a mouse.

Good Idea stared and wondered, first, that the pouch must have been quite heavy with all those things in it, and, secondly, how long had the mouse been living there?

The mouse ran up Belladona’s arm, circled her neck a few times, squeaking happily, then settled on her shoulder, bright eyes fixed on Good Idea.

Why is there a mouse on your shoulder? was Good Idea’s first question. Has he been in there the whole time? was her second. And finally, What has he been eating?

Belladona waved all three questions away. The first thing you must do, she said, handing Good Idea the ring, is take this to the blacksmith. He will fit it to your thumb. Not your finger, your thumb. That will allow you to pass through the Veil.

What Veil? asked Good Idea, looking at the ring. It was thin and the metal dull and plain. As she slipped it onto her thumb, it felt loose. Belladona then dropped the coins into Good Idea’s palm. Twelve gold pieces. She had never seen so much gold at one time in her life.

Now, as I said, you will need a strawberry roan horse. Go to the livery and ask one of the Barnstable sisters. Give her two gold coins and she will find one that will be suitable. Make sure she also gives you a saddle. Then, go to Tuesday Fix and ask him to repair the saddle.

Why would she give me a broken saddle? This was getting more and more confusing.

Belladona shook her head impatiently. It won’t be broken, but it will need to be fixed. Now, once you get to Mirror City, you must find my old mistress, Weathervane Wynd. She has a shop on Seller’s Street, by the River Brown. The roan will know the way. Tell her who you are, and she will take you to the cellar. Fleet will find the crack. Follow the map. Then, use the key.

"Who is Fleet? What crack? What should I use the key for?" Good Idea was now thoroughly perplexed.

For unlocking, of course.

Belladona pushed the key into Good Idea’s hands, but she pulled away from her mother and glared. I’m not going to Mirror City.

Belladona’s mouth formed a thin line. But you must. This is something that only you can do, daughter.

Good Idea was torn. She had never disappointed her mother before. In fact, she had never disappointed anyone before. But going to Mirror City? "And what exactly is it that only I can do?"

Belladona sighed. You must retrieve my magic notebook.

Good Idea sat back. Your magic what?

Notebook.

Good Idea gathered her thoughts, which were many. Mother, first of all, there’s no such thing as magic.

Belladona threw up her hands. Of course, there is. Zeppins! Good Idea, you’re not ignorant. Look around Whisper, it’s everywhere. Just because you’ve chosen to ignore it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. You’ve never seen or touched an elephant, but elephants are real. So is magic.

There’s a difference, Good Idea said slowly, between an elephant and magic.

You’re right, Belladona agreed. Magic doesn’t flap its ears and leave great piles of shit behind.

Good Idea stood. I think that you need more rest, Mother. She stared at the ring on her thumb and the coins in her hand, then at the rusty key and, finally, the mouse on Belladona’s shoulder, who now appeared to be frowning. And I have more important things to do than go to Mirror City. She dropped the coins and the key back into her mother’s lap and practically ran from the room.

She slipped the ring into her pocket, poured herself a glass of berry tea and sat out on the porch, rocking quietly in the noonday heat. Gray, her mother’s cat, sat perched on the railing, watching her. Good Idea closed her eyes and tried to sort out all the thoughts running around in her head. Her mother actually expected her, Inspirational Wink, to buy a strawberry roan horse and ride to Mirror City, which was arguably hundreds of miles away, to retrieve a magic notebook? Her mother expected this? The same mother who had never, in Good Idea’s sixty years, done anything out of the ordinary?

But then Good Idea stopped rocking. Actually, her mother had once been very out of the ordinary. In fact, when Good Idea was very young, her mother had been a storyteller, a fantastical storyteller, bringing to life wondrous tales of magic. Good Idea remembered listening, wide-eyed. Her mother was beautiful then, vibrant and practically glowing with energy.

Good Idea opened her eyes and looked at Gray, who stared steadily back at her. Her mother told stories of witches. Not just witches, but witches she had known. And adventures. With elves. And how she had helped dreams come true.

Had they been just stories?

Perhaps not.

Good Idea had stopped listening to her mothers’ tales when she began to follow Steadfast around the farm, doing little chores, even as her younger brothers continued to sit on the porch and listen. But she remembered those stories and had sometimes wondered if that was what lay beyond Whisper.

But to go to Mirror City? On a strawberry roan horse? To get a magic notebook?

Really?

Gray meowed loudly.

Are you magic? Good Idea asked. The cat rose onto all four feet and arched its back. Good Idea held her breath, waiting for it to turn into something…else. Gray meowed again and slipped off the railing and down the front steps.

Aunt Good Idea, a voice called.

She stood and spotted Before and After coming down the drive, each with backpack and carrying a battered trunk between them.

Just in time, she called. I was getting your rooms ready. Come on in and help with the beds.

And then, with a new task before her, she quite forgot all about Mirror City.

---

Her mother had nothing more to say on the subject of Mirror City for the rest of the day. Belladona prepared a welcome dinner for Before and After while Good Idea showed them the barns and pasture, the henhouse and the pigpen, and, finally, the carefully tended garden.

Both young men were obviously Winks. They had the same tall, strong bodies, reddish brown hair, and deep brown eyes. They looked like their father, Second, who looked like all of the other brothers, and who looked exactly like Steadfast. As did Good Idea, who had long, strong limbs and broad shoulders. Her hair, now streaked with gray, was pulled straight off her heart-shaped face and braided in a single plait that reached almost to her waist. Seeing the three of them together, the family connection was obvious.

Nothing of the petite, beautiful, gray eyed Belladona had found its way into the sturdy line of Winks.

Nothing anyone could see, anyway.

They all sat down to a table groaning under the weight of baked ham (from Wink pigs) corn and butter beans (from the Wink garden) and chocolate cake (flour milled from Wink wheat.) There was even dandelion wine from the casks Steadfast had stored in the cool of the barn.

They talked about the crops to be planted, the repair to the well, and the upcoming market at Three Creek Bridge.

I want Good Idea to go, Belladona said. When is it, day after tomorrow?

Before and After exchanged looks. They had wanted to go to the market themselves, but were not about to argue with Belladona, who owned the farm where they were now living, and who had cooked them a meal better than anything they had eaten in their lives.

Let the boys go, Good Idea argued. She loved the Market, but the ewes were due to lamb at any time. They would enjoy the trip more than I.

Before and After exchanged another look and leaned forward hopefully.

No, said Belladona. I want you to go, Good Idea. There is something I need from a man called Mionarach Jones.

Before and After sat back, sighing.

Who is this Mionarach Jones? Good Idea asked. She knew most of the sellers that set up their tents monthly just across Three Creek bridge. I’ve never heard of him.

Belladona nodded. Probably not. He doesn’t come often, but he will be there tomorrow.

Good Idea wanted to ask how her mother could possibly know that. But while she questioned many things in her mind, she didn’t often voice those questions aloud. Can’t the boys find him and get what you need?

The boys leaned forward again.

No. I don’t think so, Belladona said. What I need is of a rather, well, she dropped her voice. It’s of a delicate, feminine nature.

The boys stood hastily and quickly cleared off the table.

Belladona looked at Good Idea and smiled brightly. You don’t mind, do you, dear?

Good Idea, grateful that Mirror City was apparently no longer an issue, was happy to oblige. Of course, Mother. She lowered her voice. Where is the mouse?

Belladona raised an eyebrow. What mouse?

And that, thought Good Idea thankfully, was the end of that.

Chapter 2

The morning of Market Day, Good Idea washed her long hair and coiled it at the base of her neck instead of plaiting it into its usual braid. She slipped on a simple but beautifully made — Belladona made — dress, laced her best boots, and presented herself to her mother. Belladona nodded in approval. Going to Market was never just a commercial exercise. It was a place to see and be seen, and it was always good to be seen dressed in your best.

A familiar tingle of excitement ran through her. Market Day always held the promise of something unexpected happening, and although she was a woman who held to her habits, the thought of the unexpected had always intrigued her. And now, this additional errand with Mionarach Jones…why, anything could happen.

Belladona handed Good Idea a few coins and a slip of paper, folded many times and sealed with a blue dab of wax. I need beeswax for my wheelchair, she said. There’s a bit of a creak in the back wheel that needs to be soothed. We need more nutmeg from Mr. Trade, and laces for my boots. Bright green, I think. Then take that bit of paper to Mr. Jones. His tent is at the very end of the row on the creek side, not the meadow side. It’s purple. Give him that and he’ll know what I need.

Good Idea nodded, saddled up Front, one of the two mules in the barn, and set off to the Market past Three Creek Bridge.

Three Creek Bridge was the only way in — or out — of Whisper. The town lay in the center of a large valley, surrounded on all sides by high and impenetrable mountains, with only one narrow road leading in or out of town. That road led over Three Creek Bridge. The three creeks came tumbling down the various crevices of the mountainside and came together to form the Three Creek River, a narrow slip of fast-moving water that flowed through more mountain and, eventually, to the sea. The Market lay on the other side of the bridge, but still within the border of Whisper.

The day was bright and not too warm, and Good Idea felt a rising excitement. She had been to market many times before, and always enjoyed the brightly colored tents, the low hum of conversation, the occasional song from the Player’s tent. Wink’s Wold lay almost exactly between Three Creek Bridge and the town of Whisper proper, so it was a short and uneventful trip. She stopped on the top of the bridge to watch the family of otters that lived in the rocks below. She laughed at their antics and waved at them and at least one seemed to wave back. She went farther along until she found the line of tethered mules and horses, tied up her mule, Front, and began winding her way through the market.

Bright green shoelaces were easy, as was the nutmeg. Buying beeswax required a bit of bargaining, but Good Idea had been haggling with these vendors since she was ten years old, when she would come with Steadfast. She bought some sweet rolls for a treat, a ripe round of cheese that smelled of grass and honey, and finally found herself in front of a purple tent, creek side.

A man stepped out of the tent, an extremely old, stooped man with very pale skin and a halo of white hair and a bright smile. His left pant leg was pinned up at the knee, and he moved slowly, with obvious difficulty, a simply fashioned crutch under his arm.

Hello, young miss, he called.

Good Idea rolled her eyes, but then sighed. To someone as old as he looked to be, perhaps she was a young miss. Wordlessly, she handed him the folded bit of paper from her mother.

He held it, looking at the dab of blue wax. He broke the seal, unfolded the paper, and read it carefully. He looked up at her and smiled again. He held open the tent flap with one hand and gestured her in with a nod of his head.

Once inside, she gasped in delight.

There were shelves on three sides of the tent, shelves filled with bottles of various shapes and colors, small ornamental boxes, some closed but some open, with bits of colorful stones and dried flowers inside. There were bones of animals, large and small, hanging from the ceiling. In the middle was a small colorful rug, and a round table and two chairs of worn, silvered wood. It was the most interesting place Good Idea had ever been in, and she wanted to touch every single item and ask what it was and where it came from.

Please, sit, Mr. Jones said. His voice was low and had a tremble in it, as though he was already exhausted from speaking. Good Idea sat, set her burlap bags of purchases at her feet, and, with eyes still wandering over the shelves, waited for Mr. Jones to find whatever her mother needed.

Instead, he sat down across from her. You are Belladona’s oldest child. he said, not a question, but a statement of fact, in a frail whisper.

She nodded. Yes. I’m Inspirational Wink. But I am called Good Idea.

Hmm. His eyes narrowed. And you’re going to Mirror City to retrieve the notebook?

Her mouth opened in surprise, and she stared. No. I’m not, but how did you know —

I know quite a lot about you, Mr. Jones said, his voice a bit stronger. You are, after all, Belladona’s firstborn, and that means quite a lot where I’m from. And now Steadfast is gone. Here he tilted his head. And for that, I am truly sorry. I know you loved him very much.

Grief came back in a rush, but curiosity nudged it aside. "How do you know anything?" Good Idea asked.

You are Belladona’s first born. I’ve been watching you very carefully ever since you first drew breath.

Good Idea sat up. Someone had been watching her? That was kind of exciting. A bit creepy, perhaps, but exciting. Her heartbeat quickened as she leaned forward in her chair. Really?

He sighed. I can’t say it’s been the most thrilling sixty years I’ve spent, but yes, I’ve been watching you.

Good Idea bristled. Farm life, she explained, has its patterns.

Hmm. Yes. And most of your patterns are simple straight lines.

Good Idea had to admit that was true. She reflected for a moment on her life and realized that there hadn’t been too many…events.

Although…

"It’s not like I’ve done nothing, she argued, on the defensive now. I devised a system to feed the chickens that did not take all morning. I trained the cows to come in from the pasture with just a shrill whistle. I’ve spent years negotiating with various tradespeople and neighbors for good prices and fair exchanges."

He did not look impressed. Indeed. he said.

"So, why have you been watching me? Exactly?" she asked.

Because Belladona found something quite extraordinary when she was a much younger witch, Mr. Jones began, and —

Wait, Good Idea interrupted. My mother was a witch?

He rolled his eyes. Of course, she was a witch. She still is. But once she married, her powers were vanquished. Now, the notebook —

What notebook? Good Idea interrupted again.

The notebook she acquired. It was quite unusual. And powerful. In fact, it was altogether extraordinary. From her description, I guessed that it was the Notebook Of Whim, an incredible object that was believed to have been lost forever in the Friends and Enemies Wars.

Good Idea frowned. That was hundreds of years ago.

"Yes. And to think that it had been found again, well, I was very eager to see