The Journal of Curious Letters (The 13th Reality #1) by James Dashner Page A
Authors: James Dashner
Tags: Fantasy
Ads: Link
bed. Grumbling, he obeyed, hating that he’d have to wait until tomorrow to write Sofia back. He thought about sneaking downstairs after his parents were asleep, but he knew Edgar “Light Sleeper” Higginbottom would catch him as soon as he heard the buzz of the computer fan. It was going to be hard enough to tiptoe through the house and open the door to the front porch at midnight without waking him.
He brushed his teeth and said good night to everyone, then got into bed, his lamp on for reading. He decided to take a break from the fantasy novel he had been reading and pulled out the book by Savage, flipping to Chapter One.
Twenty minutes later, he did the worst thing he could possibly do.
He fell asleep.
Chapter
15
~
Little Ball of
Bread Dough
Tick snapped awake a half-hour after midnight. His alarm clock glowed with evil red numbers, as if they wanted to make sure he knew his mistake was unforgivable.
Jumping out of bed with a groan, he ran to his window and looked outside for any sign of the supposed visitor. He couldn’t see the entire porch from his angle, but the steps were visible in the bright moonlight that poked through a break in the clouds. No one was there, and Tick felt his heart sink.
I’m such an idiot!
Maybe he’d messed the whole thing up and lost the trust of M.G. He didn’t know who’d painted the sign, but he had no doubt it was related to the M.G. mystery, and he even suspected it was Mothball or maybe her friend Rutger. She’d said he might come visit him. Sofia mentioned in her e-mail that she’d received the fourth clue, but Tick hadn’t seen his yet. What if the midnight meeting was supposed to provide it?
Hardly able to stand the frustration and worry, Tick put on some warm clothes, determined to go outside and search for his visitor.
Stepping only on quiet spots in the house, avoiding the most obvious creaks and groans he knew from years of experience, he crept down the stairs and to the front door. After quietly slipping into his coat and boots, then wrapping his scarf tightly around his neck, he very carefully unlocked the deadbolt, then turned the handle. Knowing if he opened
the door slowly, it would let out a creak that would wake the dead, he jerked it open in one quick motion, preventing almost any sound at all.
His heart pounding, he stepped out into the bitterly cold night, quietly shutting the door behind him.
~
After searching the whole yard and finding nothing, he sat on the front porch and put his head into his cupped hands, squeezing his eyes shut in anger at himself. How could he have been so stupid? He should never have lain down to read—everyone knew that was the number one way in the world to make yourself fall asleep. He blew out an exasperated sigh as he leaned back and folded his arms, looking up at the sky. Dark, churning clouds, their edges softly illuminated by the moon hiding behind them, seemed to move across the sky at an unnatural pace like something from a horror movie in fast forward.
Tick shivered, and he knew it wasn’t the cold alone that caused it.
He leaned forward to stand up when something hit him on his right temple, followed by the soft clatter of a rock tumbling down the steps. He looked just in time to see a pebble the size of a walnut come to a rest a few feet away.
Belatedly, he said, “Ow” as he looked around to discover where the rock had come from. Nothing stirred in the darkness, the only sound a slight breeze whispering through the leafless trees in the front yard and sighing over the snow-covered bushes lining the front of the house. He thought one bush may have moved more than the others, and he was just about to investigate when another rock hit him, this time in the right shoulder. Sure enough, the rock came from the suspected bush, the powdery layer of snow almost completely knocked off.
“Who’s over there?” he asked, surprised he didn’t feel more scared. “Quit throwing rocks
He brushed his teeth and said good night to everyone, then got into bed, his lamp on for reading. He decided to take a break from the fantasy novel he had been reading and pulled out the book by Savage, flipping to Chapter One.
Twenty minutes later, he did the worst thing he could possibly do.
He fell asleep.
Chapter
15
~
Little Ball of
Bread Dough
Tick snapped awake a half-hour after midnight. His alarm clock glowed with evil red numbers, as if they wanted to make sure he knew his mistake was unforgivable.
Jumping out of bed with a groan, he ran to his window and looked outside for any sign of the supposed visitor. He couldn’t see the entire porch from his angle, but the steps were visible in the bright moonlight that poked through a break in the clouds. No one was there, and Tick felt his heart sink.
I’m such an idiot!
Maybe he’d messed the whole thing up and lost the trust of M.G. He didn’t know who’d painted the sign, but he had no doubt it was related to the M.G. mystery, and he even suspected it was Mothball or maybe her friend Rutger. She’d said he might come visit him. Sofia mentioned in her e-mail that she’d received the fourth clue, but Tick hadn’t seen his yet. What if the midnight meeting was supposed to provide it?
Hardly able to stand the frustration and worry, Tick put on some warm clothes, determined to go outside and search for his visitor.
Stepping only on quiet spots in the house, avoiding the most obvious creaks and groans he knew from years of experience, he crept down the stairs and to the front door. After quietly slipping into his coat and boots, then wrapping his scarf tightly around his neck, he very carefully unlocked the deadbolt, then turned the handle. Knowing if he opened
the door slowly, it would let out a creak that would wake the dead, he jerked it open in one quick motion, preventing almost any sound at all.
His heart pounding, he stepped out into the bitterly cold night, quietly shutting the door behind him.
~
After searching the whole yard and finding nothing, he sat on the front porch and put his head into his cupped hands, squeezing his eyes shut in anger at himself. How could he have been so stupid? He should never have lain down to read—everyone knew that was the number one way in the world to make yourself fall asleep. He blew out an exasperated sigh as he leaned back and folded his arms, looking up at the sky. Dark, churning clouds, their edges softly illuminated by the moon hiding behind them, seemed to move across the sky at an unnatural pace like something from a horror movie in fast forward.
Tick shivered, and he knew it wasn’t the cold alone that caused it.
He leaned forward to stand up when something hit him on his right temple, followed by the soft clatter of a rock tumbling down the steps. He looked just in time to see a pebble the size of a walnut come to a rest a few feet away.
Belatedly, he said, “Ow” as he looked around to discover where the rock had come from. Nothing stirred in the darkness, the only sound a slight breeze whispering through the leafless trees in the front yard and sighing over the snow-covered bushes lining the front of the house. He thought one bush may have moved more than the others, and he was just about to investigate when another rock hit him, this time in the right shoulder. Sure enough, the rock came from the suspected bush, the powdery layer of snow almost completely knocked off.
“Who’s over there?” he asked, surprised he didn’t feel more scared. “Quit throwing rocks
Similar Books
