Robert Archer and the grandfather clock

By Hetterley Hope. Renee.

When Robert Archer steps into the cupboard underneath the grandfather clock, sitting and the base of the stairs, he discovers the impossible: He is a sorcerer and the prophesized savior of a world named Paradoxia.
With the help of sorcerer, Tobin Wilkins, Robert learns magic. However, he soon discovers that his newfound abilities come with a price; he has an arch-nemesis named Archie Fluff, who will stop at nothing to see Robert fail.
If Robert wishes to save Paradoxia from Archie's evil plans, he must first learn to control his magic.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jocks Haus
• Release date: Nov 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9781738580606

Book preview

ROBERT ARCHER

and the grandfather clock

H. R. HETTERLEY

JOCKS HAUS

For Aliya and Charley.

JOCKS HAUS PUBLISHING

First published internationally in 2023 by Jocks Haus Publishing. Copyright © Hope Renee Hetterley 2023 Book Cover by Hope Renee Hetterley. Illustrations by Creative Fabrica

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

ISBN 978-1-7385806-1-3 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-7385806-0-6 (Ebook)

Paperback and hardback are printed and bound internationally by Print on Demand. Ebooks are distributed digitally

Jocks Haus Publishing; A self-publishing book label, owned by Hope Renee Hetterley. Waipa, Te Awamutu, New Zealand. [e-mail]

Contents

1.THE GRANDFATHER CLOCK

2.THE RED DOOR

3.THE SORCERERS’ PEN

4.THE DAMMED WOODS

5.THE BLOOD MOON

6.THE POCKET UNIVERSE

7.THE BLUE MORPHO

8.THE GREAT GOBLIN CHASE

9.THE BOOK OF QUESTS

10.JOURNEY TO DEAD VALLEY

11.THE INTIMIDATING MR. GRAY

12.THE LASER TAG GAME

13.LUCKY NUMBER TWELVE

14.THE CAVE OF ECHOES

15.THE GLASS TUNNEL

16.THE KING OF THE SEA

1

THE GRANDFATHER CLOCK

Robert Archer lived an ordinary life at 2001 Baker Street in West New Brighton, Staten Island, New York. He was like any other twelve-year-old boy who enjoyed watching movies, playing video games, and playing sports. Everything changed on the Monday of his thirteenth birthday. Until that Monday, life for Robert and his family was ordinary.

Mr. Peter Archer worked as a senior lawyer for Smith & Sons, a legal firm in Manhattan. Mr. Archer, like sons Robert and Miles, had sandy blond hair and blue eyes. Like Robert, he had never given up a fight. Cheeky, like Miles, Mr. Archer often played pranks. One Halloween, he made cardboard vampires and placed them into Robert’s and Miles’s wardrobes. Their screams shook the house.

Mrs. Elizabeth Archer taught Art and English at Queen’s Elementary. She looked nothing like her sons, but like her daughter Alice. Mrs. Archer had long blond hair with strawberry highlights, a pale, freckled complexion, delicate skin, and deep brown eyes. Like Alice, Mrs. Archer was intelligent, inquisitive, and liked stories. She owned many books, stacked in a large oak bookcase in the reading area of their house, with a sign reading, No Noise and No Boys; it was Alice’s idea; she painted it herself.

The moment Robert opened his eyes on a dreary Monday morning, the journey began. His brother and sister’s voices arguing over breakfast bounced up the stairs. The wintry breeze seeped through the fragile walls, making him shudder beneath his sheets. Robert quivered, slipping out of bed. The icy day nipped at Robert’s toes as he scrambled to put on his winter socks. The wind howled, rattling his window, as he hurried to dress. After dressing, Robert headed downstairs for breakfast.

This Monday, Miles and Alice arguing wasn’t the only sound soaring through the house. The walls of the house trembled with a deep, resonating hum. Robert’s stomach lurched as the humming pounded through his body. Unease filled him more than the distressing hum. The humming vibrated Robert’s eardrums, intensifying as he reached the bottom of the stairs. He shook uncertainty; he turned his head in the sound’s direction. Tense silence accompanied the vibrating hum. The source of the humming was the grandfather clock, sitting at the base of the stairs.

Happy birthday! Mr. Archer’s sudden voice made Robert’s heart race.

Robert’s head spun toward Mr. Archer. With each deep breath, his heart rate decreased, and a sense of calm washed over him. Like every weekday, Mr. Archer sat on his reading chair, his gray-suited legs stretched out across the sitting room. He sifted through the morning paper, as he did every day. He wore his usual gray lucky socks, which he insisted helped him at work.

Thanks, Dad. Robert shifted his gaze once more toward the reading area. The humming drew his gaze back to the enormous grandfather clock, its ornate details catching the light. The clock’s deep hum resonated through Robert’s body, making his ears pop as if the pressure in the house had dropped. Intense vibrations shook the house, causing the floorboards to creak and groan beneath his feet. Robert swayed, unsteady on his feet.

Happy birthday. Alice’s grin was contagious, making Robert flash a smile.

For a moment he tore his eyes from the grandfather clock and toward the dining room, where Alice sat with Miles and Mrs. Archer. At the table’s center sat a plate laden with toast, and circling it sat various spreads. Robert’s stomach rumbled as he gazed at the toast plate.

Happy birthday. Miles seized a slice of toast when Alice glanced away. He smothered it with peanut butter and devoured it in three large bites.

Happy birthday. Mrs. Archer sat at the table with a latte, glancing up at her now thirteen-year-old.

The grandfather clock caught Robert’s attention, causing Mrs. Archer’s words to fade into the background. A couple of seconds ticked away before Robert opened his mouth. Mom, the grandfather clock is acting strange.

What do you mean, it’s acting strange? Mrs. Archer shot her son a questioning look, her eyebrows furrowed with curiosity.

It’s humming, like it’s about to explode.

Mrs. Archer placed her coffee cup on her coaster, laughing. I’ve never heard of an exploding clock!

Can’t hear anything. Miles ate another piece of toast while shooting glances at Alice. The toast fight was the most normal thing in the Archer house.

Me either. Alice glared at Miles as he took another slice of toast. Leave some for Robert, you toast hog.

Robert placed his hands on his hips, spinning towards Mrs. Archer. Listen, if you don’t believe me!

I’ll take you up on that! Mrs Archer strolled through the archway, toward the clock. From the archway, she glanced at Robert and shrugged.

I’m not making it up! Robert’s cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. Robert’s face turned redder and redder, as Miles and Alice sniggered. It’s humming! The entire house is shaking. Don’t you feel it?

No one seems to hear or feel anything, including me. I suggest having some toast.

At a quarter to eight, Mr. Archer yawned, kissed his family, and left for work. Robert and Miles left for the bus stop, and Mrs. Archer and Alice headed to Queens Elementary. At the bus stop a few minutes away from their house, Robert and Miles waited. The bus doors screeched and clunked open. With a sense of urgency, Miles bounded up the dilapidated steps onto the bus.

As Robert boarded the bus, the various smells overwhelmed him. The air reeked of musty socks, bitter coffee, pungent mustard, and syrupy cherry cola. Along with the smell, the old seats and dirty windows made the bus unappealing. When new, the bus shone a vibrant gold. Now it navigated the streets, a dirty mustard. The rubber surrounding the windows grew loose with time, and now the windows shook, threatening to pop out at any moment. As the bus came to life, Robert’s stomach twisted in discomfort.

The bus wobbled and jerked as it merged into chaotic traffic. The busy streets rattled the bus, causing every pothole and sway to jolt the passengers. As Robert swung his head, the bustling streets whizzed past him in a blur of concrete and metal. People shuffled in crowds along the footpaths, as usual. And a paper man delivered papers to local shops as he did every weekday. He waved at the bus driver as the bus passed his delivery van. Everything was normal until the haberdashery.

As the bus rumbled past the haberdashery, Robert’s senses became alert. His neck prickled with goosebumps, and a low hum pulsed in his ears. A bright light caught Robert’s attention, pulling his eyes like a magnet towards the haberdashery window. There, standing amidst a fluttering robe, stood a wizard. The wizard held his palms out, and bright blue flames danced in his hands. Mesmerized by the sight, Robert’s heart raced with excitement. The wizard and Robert locked eyes and power vibrated through Robert’s chest.

There was a sudden loud screech, and the bus driver hit the brakes. With a forceful strike of his palm, the bus driver unleashed a blaring horn that echoed through the street, his eyes locked in a fierce glare at the cab driver ahead. With two wheels on the curb, the cab driver waved out the driver’s side window. A torrent of blaring horns resounded throughout the frosty street. The horns died down as the cab driver left the curb with a series of bangs and screeches.

Sorry about that. Is everybody okay? Concern laced the bus driver’s voice. He glanced in the rear-view mirror, studying his passengers.

Robert followed his gaze towards the back of the bus, his eyes scanning the row of seats. When Robert glanced back at the window, the wizard had vanished. As the traffic moved, Robert’s eyes traced the outside of the bus, taking in the sights of the bustling city. Tall skyscrapers loomed in the distance; a red sun rising behind them, casting an orange glow across the sky. The wizard occupied Robert’s mind the entire time.

Nearing the last bus-stop, Robert’s mind shifted from the wizard to his birthday dinner. Mouthwatering pizza, loaded with cheese; stretchy and delicious. So stretchy and delicious, it pours from every slice peeled from the box. The bus lurched to a stop, and more passengers boarded. A boy with bright green eyes was the last to enter, making his way down the aisle toward Robert.

Can I sit here? The boy appeared around Robert’s age, with a heavy Australian accent. Robert rode the bus for months but didn’t recognize the boy. He wore a jacket, gloves, and a small hat, leaving his ears uncovered. Locks of hair spilled out from beneath the hat’s rim. His hair was darker than Alice’s, but only by a fraction.

New friend Archer? A boy’s nasal voice called from the back. As soon as he spoke, Robert’s ears rang. The voice belonged to Michael Rivers. Michael’s continual teasing scraped against Robert’s nerves, much like sandpaper. Robert removed his backpack from the seat beside him, creating space for the boy to sit.

Your surname is Archer, right? What’s your first name?

Robert. And you are?

Seth Rowe.

I haven’t seen you before?

First time on the bus. Today is my first day at Staten Island Middle School. Going to a new school makes me cringe. I’ve changed schools three times in the past year. My dad left. Mum moved back to New York from Perth. She keeps changing jobs. We’ve moved from New Brunswick to Staten Island.

As the bus arrived at Staten Island Middle School, the chatter grew louder as the students prepared to disembark. As the doors opened, the students surged forward, each one eager to be the first to step onto the footpath. Pushing and jostling, the students surged towards the exit. Bodies brushing past each other like a living organism slithering towards its destination. As the students spilled out onto the footpath, the ground trembled beneath their feet like a mini earthquake.

What’s your home group? Shuffling feet and chatter surrounded them as students rushed to their classrooms. Evading the bustling students, Seth continued, I’m in D-2.

With Mrs. Brown? Follow me.

The boys’ breathing pulsed in their ears as they trudged through the snow, undeterred by the deafening, howling wind. The air was so frigid’s tiny needles pricked their skin, making them shiver. Their homeroom was a welcome sight, especially after their ears went numb from the cold.

Robert. You legend! With lightning speed, Nicholas Hamilton leaped towards the front of the classroom upon seeing Robert. Despite being a new student at Staten Island Middle School, Robert had already established himself as a star athlete. At the sports day event, he emerged victorious by beating Nicholas in the competition. This achievement earned Robert a front-page story in the Staten Island Middle School newspaper, The Islander.

Happy birthday, Robert. Gretchen’s strawberry perfume wafted through the air. Robert turned toward her, heart pounding. Gretchen’s perfect curls, cascading down her shoulders, added to her already stunning appearance. Like marbles that were polished to a high shine, her blue eyes sparkled and glistened in the sunlight. Clacking heels near the door interrupted Robert’s response.

Mrs. Brown strolled down the narrow hallway, her footsteps echoing against the walls. The closer she came, the whispers and laughter grew fainter and fainter. With a confident stride, she made her way into the room, her gaze sweeping over the hushed students. One by one, the students shuffled to their seats, creaking chairs filling the room. In a matter of three swift strides, Mrs. Brown moved across the room and settled herself at her desk. With an attendance sheet in hand, she read names.

As the bell rang, signaling the end of homeroom, the students filed out of the classroom, their footsteps echoing in the hallway. Upon exiting into the courtyard, the class shuddered as a sharp, icy wind tore through the double doors and swept down the corridor. Robert’s ears once again went numb, and as he rubbed at them, a swarm of people closed in on him from all sides.

The swarm raced toward him with lightning speed. With each step, the snow beneath their feet crunched, releasing tiny clouds of white powder into the air. Robert shivered as the icy air cut through his skin, causing his cheeks and hands to tingle with cold. His eyes darted around, taking in the sea of unfamiliar faces that surrounded him. Friday had changed his popularity. Miles, whose homeroom was in C-Block, watched with a wide grin as the scene unfolded.

What’s going on? Seth’s gaze flickered towards Robert, who wore a flushed expression of embarrassment. I’ve never seen such a swarm.

Last Friday’s sports day went well for me.

Sport isn’t my thing. I like weight lifting. My friend back in Australia and I weight lifted most weekends. It’s been a year and my muscles are deteriorating.

Robert! A voice reverberated in the air from behind him. Are you trying out for the athletics team?

At the sound of the unexpected voice, Robert’s head snapped in its direction. With water droplets clinging to his hair and clothes, the third place winner appeared before him, shivering from the cold. The rain poured, forming a rhythmic tune as it beat on the school terrain. I’m off to high school next year, so no!

Me too. If we attend in the same high school, maybe we should join the high school athletics team together.

Sounds like a plan! Robert’s gaze shifted away from its original focus and settled on Seth. Our English class is by the field. The teacher’s outstanding, but the classroom is damp and smells of mold.

The chilly weather here is still taking some getting used to. Shivering from the cold, Seth rubbed his arms to warm himself up. His gaze swept across the sky, noting the monotonous shade of gray that stretched above him. The winters in Australia are nothing compared to this.

The moment Seth finished speaking, a powerful tremor shook the ground beneath him, leaving him disoriented. Robert remained oblivious, even as the students stopped in their tracks and gawked at him with wide-open mouths. As the students closed in around him, their pale faces mirrored their fear, and their bodies quivered with terror.

Whoa! That was scary. In a sudden burst of energy, a boy sprinted towards Robert, his face becoming paler with each step. Are you alright?

Did you see that? The girl shot forward, her entire body trembling, her heart pounding in her chest. I can’t believe that happened.

What happened? Robert’s heart thudded and pounded like a drum. He gasped for breath, taking short, shallow puffs. The thumping of his heart overpowered any other noises.

You just got hit by lightning! Seth’s voice trembled with shock, his hands shaking.

I did not! Gasping for air, Robert’s heart pounded in his chest, its beats quick and frantic.

Yes! You did. In the midst of the bustling crowd, Gretchen appeared, surrounded by a sea of faces. It was the most frightening thing I’ve ever seen.

The wide-eyed stares from his friends and the surrounding crowd caused Robert to doubt himself. According to their claim, they had witnessed the lightning bolt striking him. Lightning bolts are three hundred million volts. If it hit him, the energy’s impact would have been disastrous. He glanced at the sky. As if by magic, a bolt of light split the black clouds, revealing a clear blue sky.

Seth spoke with unwavering belief. We’re not joking! Didn’t you hear it? Three loud booms and a bang.

There was a blinding flash. Gretchen’s eyes widened as she moved closer to Robert. And a loud zap.

I didn’t hear or see anything, and I’m sure lightning didn’t strike me. I’d have felt it.

Wait! Seth’s eyes widened, reflecting his excitement. I can prove it! Does anyone have a mirror?

Gretchen rummaged through her schoolbag. She retrieved a tiny travel mirror from her bag. The mirror opened with a flick. Gretchen he thrust it towards Robert’s face. As if electrocuted, Robert’s hair stood in a wild mess. He touched his hair; the heat emanating from his scalp taking the chill off his fingertips.

So, are you telling me you didn’t feel a thing? In disbelief, Seth’s eyes widened to the size of saucers.

No, I didn’t! I swear. With a trembling voice, Robert reached inside his bag, his fingers brushing against the smooth, fluffy surface of an object. He pulled out his old, worn hat, its faded fabric telling stories of countless adventures, and placed it on his head. Let’s get going. We don’t want to be late for English.

As Robert made his way to his English class, the hushed whispers followed him like a shadow. Once inside, it didn’t take long for Mr. Jackson to spot Seth.

What a marvelous surprise! The sun’s rays streamed through the windowpanes, filling the room with a comforting warmth. In the distance, the slow advance of black clouds drew nearer. We are welcoming a newcomer to our student population. What’s your name?

Seth.

Do you have any interesting facts about Australia to share with us? Tell us a little about your life.

The harsh glow of the bright fluorescent lights bathed Seth’s face, accentuating his features. And as the color drained from his leaving him as pale as a ghost, the class awaited Seth’s response. Seth’s piercing green eyes darted from one face to another as he scanned his new classmates. His heart raced, pounding against his ribcage, while his stomach churned with knots of anxiety.

As he struggled to speak, a sudden burst of inspiration struck him. It wasn’t something remarkable, but it would suffice. Before speaking, he took a few deep breaths, trying to calm the lump in his throat. We raised kangaroos when I was younger. Some poachers killed their mothers, and we nursed them until they were old enough to return to the wild.

The room was silent, except for the hum of the faulty air conditioning unit. A wave of energy rippled across the classroom, causing a stir among the students. Soon, all the students caught the enthusiasm, and the room buzzed with excitement.

Cool!

Did you keep any?

We returned them all to the wild. We only made sure they survived.

Do you have any photos?

Not on me. I can bring some in another day.

That’s a brilliant idea! Mr Jackson moved back to the attendance roll. Welcome to Staten Island Middle School!

A new student entered the room. With his crisp white shirt and ironed pants, the boy exuded an air of sophistication. He scanned his new classmates, observing them with a piercing gaze, noting every detail. The boy turned to face Mr. Jackson, his posture remaining impeccable.

Mr. Jackson glanced up from the attendance roll and into the boy’s icy eyes. Who might you be?

When the boy opened his mouth, a distinct British accent flowed from his lips. My name’s Archie. Where may I sit?

You can sit anywhere you’d like. Mr. Jackson’s face lit up with a smile as he gazed at Archie. But before sitting, share an interesting fact about yourself to break the ice.

I have no parents. I’m an orphan. Archie swayed back and forth, shifting his balance from one foot to the other. They died when I was young. I lived with my gran until earlier this year.

Where do you live without parents? From the middle of the class, Jason Nicholas squinted to get a better look at Archie. Jason, with his lean and towering frame, stood head and shoulders above his classmates. Even in a seated position, he still towered a few inches above Robert.

In a penthouse in midtown. Archie scanned the room, his eyes darting from one corner to another, searching for a spare desk. My parents left it to me in their will.

Who do you live with? Jason acted like an aspiring reporter getting the perfect story.

Mr. Millar. Archie halted his desk-scanning and directed a fierce glare at Jason. He serves not only as my butler but also as my guardian.

Jason’s body jerked with such force that he came close to catapulting out of his chair. You have a butler! Did your parents have a lot of money?

They had a penthouse. As Archie and Jason’s eyes met, a blush spread across Archie’s face. For me, their presence is more valuable than the penthouse. Wouldn’t it be preferable for your parents to be alive?

But you own your own penthouse! Jason’s voice pierced the tense silence like a sharp blade. Despite Archie’s flushed face, Jason continued on, unaware of the tension he was causing. Why are you going to school on Staten Island?

Because I wanted to! Archie’s temper detonated, his booming voice bouncing off the walls of the classroom. He glared at Jason, his eyes filled with a fiery intensity.

Why did you decide to come here? If I had a choice, I wouldn’t. I would go to a private school and hang out with celebrities!

Alright, Jason, that’s enough, Mr. Jackson signaled for him to stop. Archie, please take a seat. Welcome to Staten Island Middle School.

Archie sat behind Jason, shooting venomous looks at the back of his neck, as if plotting his vengeance.

Mr. Jackson stored the attendance roll in his desk drawer. Today is the creative writing day we planned last week. You have thirty minutes to draft a short story. You have the liberty to choose any subject for your writing.

The writing task electrified the classroom, sparking a surge of creativity and excitement as each student poured their ideas onto paper. Mr. Jackson stood back as his students dove into the world of storytelling, the possibilities endless. The classroom was silent, with each student engrossed in their writing. With each stroke of his pen, Seth captured the intensity of the lightning strike on paper. With each word, Robert’s description of the wizard in the window became more and more enchanting. The writing period whizzed past in a whirlwind of thoughts and ideas.

Seth swung his head toward Robert. Would you like to read mine?

Robert and Seth swapped stories. Amusement danced in Robert’s eyes as he turned to Seth. Blue lightning? That’s a new one for me.

Fiery palmed wizard? Never heard of that, either. Seth shot Robert a disbelieving frown. Did a wizard appear in the window?

Perhaps, or it could be nothing. Was I hit by a bolt of blue lightning?

I’m telling you, it was blue! You can ask anyone, even Gretchen. I swear it was blue.

As I looked into the haberdashery window, I caught sight of something, although I’m not sure what it was.

It’s the strangest Monday I’ve ever had. Seth leant back in his chair, amused.

Mr. Jackson’s watch beeped, signaling the end of the activity. Students engaged in a frantic race to finish their last sentences. Your time is up. Hand your stories up and I’ll choose one to read. Excitement rippled through the room as the students passed their papers forward. Everyone held their breath, waiting for Mr. Jackson to choose. While Mr. Jackson scanned the stories, something caught his attention. I’m curious, Archie. Is this story fictitious, or do you have a cat named Mr. Snuggles?

Yes, I have a cat named Mr. Snuggles. I got him for my thirteenth birthday. He’s the best. It’s the last thing my gran bought me before she died.

Wonderful! I’m a devoted cat lover myself. I have three at home, Molly, Pudding and Possum. Molly is ginger. Pudding his white with black spots and looks like cookies and cream ice-cream, and Possum is black with a white streak down her back.

Mr. Snuggles is white, with a black spot below his chin. It looks like he’s wearing a bowtie.

Jason let out a howl of laughter, clutching his sides, tears streaming down his face.

Mr. Jackson, wearing a mischievous smile, shifted his attention to Jason. I would love to read your story, Jason. However, I’m not sure a tale about impressing women in bikinis with a double-jointed thumb is appropriate.