Elliot Stone and the Mystery of the Backyard Treasure
Chase, LP
ISBN 13: 9781897381458
Paperback; perfect bound; 5.5 x 8.5
Sample Excerpt, © Rain Publishing Inc.
CHAPTER ONE
The Dreaded Black Bag
Hi, remember me? My name is Elliot Stone, and I’m in the fourth grade. The last time we met, I was in a real pickle. Thanks to my best friends, Jake Weber and Cassie Hawthorne, I was able to solve the biggest mystery of my life. You know, the one where my mom was turning into an alien. Well, I’m really glad that’s over. But not long after that happened, we stumbled on another baffling mystery. Jake, Cassie, and I were about to embark on our next mission.
The rain was crashing down, making weird drum sounds on the air conditioner in my window. I could have sworn it sounded like someone’s fingers tapping. My bedroom is on the second floor, so unless the guy was about twenty feet tall, I doubt anyone was out there. But, I peeked out through the slats of my mini-blinds anyway—just to make sure.
I was so hung up on the sound the rain was making, I almost forgot how freaked out I was about the creepy statue I had seen when I was at my grandparents’ house the night before. My grandparents live around the corner from us, so we go there all the time. Well, as soon as I walked into the living room there, in plain sight on the bookshelf, was the most evil-looking statue I had ever seen. It was a dark and shriveled little head with its eyes and mouth sewn shut. I shuddered at the look of it. My grandfather said it wasn’t real—that it was just a souvenir from an old friend. But I wasn’t sure I believed him. I couldn’t even look at it long enough to decide if it was real or fake. The thing was so eerie, I had to get out of the room. All I could think about the whole time was calling Jake and telling him what I saw, but we got home too late.
The rain pounded my air conditioner even harder. I wasn’t allowed to call Jake until I was finished cleaning. Saturday mornings at my house are for dusting, vacuuming, and putting tons of clothes away. It’s the worst day of the week—at least until the rooms are done. I hate cleaning my room! I think I hate cleaning my room more than anything else in the entire world, well, anything else in the world except touching the kitchen sponge—that totally grosses me out. But I’ll save that story for another time.
Anyway, I think I must’ve walked back and forth from the window to my closet to my desk about a hundred times. I needed to produce some results fast or my mother would be coming up with the dreaded black bag.
Do you know what the dreaded black bag is? Well, if I don’t keep my room neat, my mother will come whizzing through my door like a vicious tornado sucking up everything in her path in about five seconds and then toss all of it in her black garbage bag—the bag that sucks up every cool thing you ever wanted to save, or every treasure you’d ever found. It’s more like a black hole if you ask me. I would do almost anything to avoid that scene.
The problem is I have to make my room look like I cleaned it, but I’m not good at that because I like to save everything.
“Elliot,” she called up the stairs. “Are you working on that room of yours?”
“Yeah, I’m, uh, almost done,” I answered quickly so she wouldn’t make the loud, stomping trek up the stairs. I called it the “Trek of Doom.” You can hear every footstep getting louder and coming closer until you know you’re doomed.
“Almost done?” I asked myself. “I’m not even close.” One by one, I picked little things that I loved out of my junk drawer, like old rusty nails, pieces of electronic pc boards, broken shells from the beach, bird feathers, or screws that I might need for something some day. As I carefully evaluated each piece, I made the decision that these were all very important and I had to keep them. Back in the drawer they went. I obviously wasn’t getting anywhere with this cleaning thing. I needed a bigger room. Every kid needs at least five junk drawers. Don’t ya think?
I was dying to tell Jake about the creepy statue I had seen, so I started to hurry up. I grabbed at a pile of dirty clothes on the floor. It was the overflow pile from my hamper. As I pulled the clothes toward me, I noticed an old tin treasure box taking a ride on my jeans. I must’ve tossed it in the corner and forgotten all about it, which isn’t too hard to believe since it was behind the clothes hamper. Who looks back there? Anyway, it was some old box that my grandfather had given my dad when he was a kid. Even though it was a little dented and didn’t close the way it was supposed to, it was still pretty neat. The blue and silver designs and metal latch made it look like a real treasure chest.
Then, I came up with a plan. I decided I would put all my favorite things in that box so my mom wouldn’t throw them out. I started across the room when I stepped on a board game and crushed the corner of the box. “Ow, ow, ow,” I yelled, grabbing my foot. I cringed as all the pieces shot around the room like little torpedoes. “Oh, crud!” I mumbled, looking at the new, improved mess.
Well, at that point, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that my room was a complete disaster. I picked up the tin box and began imagining what I could put in it. That’s when I came up with an even better idea. Jake and I could bury the box in the backyard somewhere, like a real treasure. I’m brilliant! I thought. I can’t wait to tell Jake.
“What’s that, Elliot?” interrupted the annoying voice of my little sister through the crack in my door.
“What do you want, Sammy? Shouldn’t you be cleaning YOUR room or something?” I grumbled, rolling my eyes.
Sammy pushed her way into the room and sat on my rug.
“Get out of here. You’re wrecking everything.”
“I’m just watching,” she said………..
Chase, LP
ISBN 13: 9781897381458
Paperback; perfect bound; 5.5 x 8.5
Sample Excerpt, © Rain Publishing Inc.
CHAPTER ONE
The Dreaded Black Bag
Hi, remember me? My name is Elliot Stone, and I’m in the fourth grade. The last time we met, I was in a real pickle. Thanks to my best friends, Jake Weber and Cassie Hawthorne, I was able to solve the biggest mystery of my life. You know, the one where my mom was turning into an alien. Well, I’m really glad that’s over. But not long after that happened, we stumbled on another baffling mystery. Jake, Cassie, and I were about to embark on our next mission.
The rain was crashing down, making weird drum sounds on the air conditioner in my window. I could have sworn it sounded like someone’s fingers tapping. My bedroom is on the second floor, so unless the guy was about twenty feet tall, I doubt anyone was out there. But, I peeked out through the slats of my mini-blinds anyway—just to make sure.
I was so hung up on the sound the rain was making, I almost forgot how freaked out I was about the creepy statue I had seen when I was at my grandparents’ house the night before. My grandparents live around the corner from us, so we go there all the time. Well, as soon as I walked into the living room there, in plain sight on the bookshelf, was the most evil-looking statue I had ever seen. It was a dark and shriveled little head with its eyes and mouth sewn shut. I shuddered at the look of it. My grandfather said it wasn’t real—that it was just a souvenir from an old friend. But I wasn’t sure I believed him. I couldn’t even look at it long enough to decide if it was real or fake. The thing was so eerie, I had to get out of the room. All I could think about the whole time was calling Jake and telling him what I saw, but we got home too late.
The rain pounded my air conditioner even harder. I wasn’t allowed to call Jake until I was finished cleaning. Saturday mornings at my house are for dusting, vacuuming, and putting tons of clothes away. It’s the worst day of the week—at least until the rooms are done. I hate cleaning my room! I think I hate cleaning my room more than anything else in the entire world, well, anything else in the world except touching the kitchen sponge—that totally grosses me out. But I’ll save that story for another time.
Anyway, I think I must’ve walked back and forth from the window to my closet to my desk about a hundred times. I needed to produce some results fast or my mother would be coming up with the dreaded black bag.
Do you know what the dreaded black bag is? Well, if I don’t keep my room neat, my mother will come whizzing through my door like a vicious tornado sucking up everything in her path in about five seconds and then toss all of it in her black garbage bag—the bag that sucks up every cool thing you ever wanted to save, or every treasure you’d ever found. It’s more like a black hole if you ask me. I would do almost anything to avoid that scene.
The problem is I have to make my room look like I cleaned it, but I’m not good at that because I like to save everything.
“Elliot,” she called up the stairs. “Are you working on that room of yours?”
“Yeah, I’m, uh, almost done,” I answered quickly so she wouldn’t make the loud, stomping trek up the stairs. I called it the “Trek of Doom.” You can hear every footstep getting louder and coming closer until you know you’re doomed.
“Almost done?” I asked myself. “I’m not even close.” One by one, I picked little things that I loved out of my junk drawer, like old rusty nails, pieces of electronic pc boards, broken shells from the beach, bird feathers, or screws that I might need for something some day. As I carefully evaluated each piece, I made the decision that these were all very important and I had to keep them. Back in the drawer they went. I obviously wasn’t getting anywhere with this cleaning thing. I needed a bigger room. Every kid needs at least five junk drawers. Don’t ya think?
I was dying to tell Jake about the creepy statue I had seen, so I started to hurry up. I grabbed at a pile of dirty clothes on the floor. It was the overflow pile from my hamper. As I pulled the clothes toward me, I noticed an old tin treasure box taking a ride on my jeans. I must’ve tossed it in the corner and forgotten all about it, which isn’t too hard to believe since it was behind the clothes hamper. Who looks back there? Anyway, it was some old box that my grandfather had given my dad when he was a kid. Even though it was a little dented and didn’t close the way it was supposed to, it was still pretty neat. The blue and silver designs and metal latch made it look like a real treasure chest.
Then, I came up with a plan. I decided I would put all my favorite things in that box so my mom wouldn’t throw them out. I started across the room when I stepped on a board game and crushed the corner of the box. “Ow, ow, ow,” I yelled, grabbing my foot. I cringed as all the pieces shot around the room like little torpedoes. “Oh, crud!” I mumbled, looking at the new, improved mess.
Well, at that point, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that my room was a complete disaster. I picked up the tin box and began imagining what I could put in it. That’s when I came up with an even better idea. Jake and I could bury the box in the backyard somewhere, like a real treasure. I’m brilliant! I thought. I can’t wait to tell Jake.
“What’s that, Elliot?” interrupted the annoying voice of my little sister through the crack in my door.
“What do you want, Sammy? Shouldn’t you be cleaning YOUR room or something?” I grumbled, rolling my eyes.
Sammy pushed her way into the room and sat on my rug.
“Get out of here. You’re wrecking everything.”
“I’m just watching,” she said………..
1 comment:
I can't wait for my kids to read it!
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