Overview
Elliot is grounded from playing his favorite game, The Wisdom of Wink, just after he discovers a crime scene. Did Elliot see a real crime scene or only a hologram that was part of the game? Only Wink, the game’s hologram elf-guide knows, and Wink is the only one with the crime scene’s GPS coordinates. Elliot cannot access Wink or the location of the crime scene while locked out of the game.
If being grounded from his favorite game wasn’t enough, Elliot suspects someone is following him. When he finds a letter addressed to his mom slipped under the door, not only are his suspicions confirmed, but he realizes he might be adopted.
The Wisdom of Wink is mostly contemporary but slightly futuristic (about five to seven game-generations from now with life-like, hologram game characters). As a work in progress, this story will most likely face multiple revisions. Below are the first few rough draft chapters.
Chapter One
I stepped as quietly as I could while crisp, golden-brown autumn leaves crackled under me. I knew it was a dangerous mission, more for Wink than for me.
“Better walk lightly,” Wink whispered.
I tried my best as I followed Wink along the path. We turned left ninety degrees, through the brush, past the oak, ten steps forward, right forty-five degrees, then forward fifty steps, precisely according to Wink’s directions.
That was when we saw him! Standing before us, a short distance away was the wicked, wild Snot-Heaver! Wink brought me straight to Snot-Heaver, but not until I uncovered the Golden Key, the Magic Wand, and of course, Wink.
“Wink, what should I do?” I whispered.
“Use the flaming arrow with the magic poison tip, but be careful. If you miss, Snot-Heaver will attack and take me hostage,” my elf-guide answered.
I had the flaming arrow. I searched through all my weapons, all my tools, and all my gear, but I was at a loss. “I don’t have a magic poison arrow tip,” I whispered to Wink.
“Well then, we must go and not return until you have the magic poison arrow tip but hurry. Leave quickly and quietly before Snot-Heaver sees us, or he will attack and take me hostage.”
Snot-Heaver looked up. I ducked behind some nearby brush and crouched down as low as I could. Snot-Heaver turned our direction and began sauntering toward us in his big, clumsy way, growling and snorting snot while his eyes peered behind and beneath every bit of foliage. I knew he was searching for me, and it seemed he could sniff out my scent.
“Don’t breathe,” appeared on my phone screen. I looked over at Wink huddled next to me. He looked at me wide-eyed with cautious fear as he placed his finger to his mouth, signaling silence. Snot-Heaver moved along without a sound, though his steps were clumsy and oaf-like. Keeping silent was easy for Snot-Heaver and Wink, but not for me. All it would take was one step, one snap of a twig, one rustle of leaves, and Snot-Heaver would be on us like bees on honey. Snot-Heaver ambled past us without discovery, but so close I could have reached out and touched him. He continued his search as he clomped along, placing distance between us over time, a long, long time. Wink and I waited for what seemed an eternity. Finally, it was safe.
“Wink, which way out of here?” I asked.
“Out of where?” Wink asked.
“What way do we go to get out of the woods?”
“Whichever way you want,” Wink answered.
“No, I mean, how do we get out of the woods?”
“Walk,” Wink said.
“Which direction?” I asked.
“Whichever you prefer.”
“If I walk straight forward, will that take me out of the woods?”
“Eventually.”
“Wink, what is the quickest, shortest route out of the woods?” I asked.
“Leave the woods the way we came into the woods.”
“And which way is that?”
“Which way is what?” Wink asked.
“Which way did we come into the woods?”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Wink said, “Which way? Do you mean by what mode of travel? We walked.”
“Great! You led me into the woods, and now how am I going to get out? What if we run into Mucous Mobs? I’m losing power, both combat power and my phone needs charging. How could you have gotten me into this mess? If I’m not home by dinner, I’ll be in more trouble than Snot-Heaver could ever dish out.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Wink said, “There is no trouble greater than being Snot-Heaver’s hostage. If you are late to dinner, it won’t cause me to become Snot-Heaver’s hostage.”
“Right,” I said. That was when I saw it — a hand. Natural forest debris like leaves and twigs covered most of it. It was a human hand, a small human hand, maybe a child’s hand, or maybe not a human hand. Maybe it was the hand of an elf. “Is that real?” I asked Wink.
“Everything is real in The Wisdom of Wink.”
“No, I mean, is it a hologram, like you and Snot-Heaver?”
“Is what a hologram?” Wink asked.
“The hand under the leaves.”
“Point your phone camera at the ‘hand under the leaves’ so I can get a better look,” Wink said.
I aimed the lens of my phone at the small hand and asked again, “Is that hand real or a hologram, like you and Snot-Heaver?”
“It is not a hologram,” Wink answered.
“Is it real?” I asked.
“Maybe,” Wink said.
“Is it part of the game?”
“Is what part of which game?” Wink had the most annoying habit of answering questions with questions.
“Is the hand part of The Wisdom of Wink?”
“It is not from The Wisdom of Wink.”
“Is it a real human hand?” I asked.
“It is a human hand, but I do not know if it is real,” Wink answered.
“What do you mean you don’t know if it’s real?”
“The hand could be human flesh, or it could be plastic, rubber, or some other artificial material made to look like human flesh.”
“Oh,” I said while considering my options. I could kick around the leaves and twigs or use a stick to move around the leafy ground litter to see if the hand was attached to a body, or I could tell someone about what I found. If it was a crime, I didn’t want to contaminate the evidence. I was pretty sure it was a crime if the hand was real. “I need to get home,” I told Wink, “but first, mark this spot with GPS coordinates so that we can get back here.”
“GPS coordinates are recorded,” Wink confirmed.
“Please give me directions home. I have to be home by five,” I pleaded with Wink.
“Directions home: Start by turning forty-five degrees to your left, then walk thirty steps, then turn twenty degrees right and walk…”
“How come a few minutes ago you couldn’t give me directions, but now you can?”
“There are many directions one may travel out of the woods, but home is only one direction. Besides, I am programmed to mess with your head.”
“Great. You’re one annoying elf.”
“I am a lovable elf and your essential guide. I help you gather necessary magical spells and golden weapons, so you may conquer the Oppressors, cross the Golden Moat Bridge into the Castle of Wisdom, make your way to the Royal Golden Throne, and be The Wisdom of Wink’s victorious ruler.”
“Yeah, right.”
Fifteen minutes later, I peddled down my street, turned into my home’s drive, and skidded my bike to a stop at the end of the side entrance walkway. “Sorry, Wink. I’ve got to shut you down―Mom’s rules, no game critters in the house.”
“Okay, Elliot,” Wink said, “Just don’t…” Too late, Wink dissipated into thin air.
Don’t what? I wondered as I hurried inside.
Chapter Two
The clock showed twenty minutes after five. The house was silent. “Mom!” I called, but there was no answer. I called out again, but still nothing. Usually, Mom was home, and dinner was cooking, but I couldn’t smell dinner. I walked into the kitchen. Nothing was on the stove or in the oven. Nothing was on the kitchen counter just cooked or about to be heated. Instead, the kitchen was cold, dusk dark, silent, and tidy, like the rest of the house. A handwritten note was held in place by a magnet on the refrigerator. The note said:
We have kidnapped your mom. Do NOT call the police, or you will never see her again. We are holding her for one hundred thousand dollars ransom. Call the number we left on the living room table at precisely five o’clock, and we will give you further directions. For every minute you are late calling us, we will cut off one of your mom’s fingers. When we run out of fingers, we will cut off toes, followed by ears and nose.
Just kidding, Kiddo! We have a warmup practice and a game following. I’m at the rink. I was going to bring you with me, but you were late! We’ll talk about that later. I’m remotely engaging my parental controls to banish you from The Wisdom of Wink for a week! There’s pizza in the fridge you can nuke in the microwave. Call me as soon as you’re home. If you can’t reach me, I’m on the ice. Just leave a message. I’m going out with the team afterward, so I’ll be home late.
Love,
Mom
Hockey! It’s Mom’s thing, not mine. I just couldn’t ever really get the hang of it, not the standing with two thin blades holding my feet up, not the freezing off my behind, and not striking a puck with a big stick while zipping around on the ice. I much prefer soccer, shooting hoops, and riding my bike. At least then, I’m on solid ground, not some slippery, icy surface. As for Mom’s warped sense of humor, I was used to that.
I took the pizza out of the fridge and put two slices in the microwave before calling Mom. I left a message since she was apparently “on the ice.” I got the pizza out of the microwave and headed into the living room to watch television.
I saw the envelope just as I entered the living room. It was on the floor in the foyer, as though someone had slipped it under the door. I thought about this for a minute. Why didn’t I see it when I came in, or did someone leave it while I was in the kitchen? I put my plate and glass of milk on the table and walked over to the door. The envelope was face down with a muddy footprint imprinted on it. I looked down at my shoes. They were a bit muddy. I looked at the size of the shoe imprint and compared it to my shoe. They were the same size. I took off my shoe and looked at the sole. It did have the same tread pattern as the imprint on the envelope. Okay, so I must have stepped on the envelope when I walked into the house.
I picked up the envelope and turned it over. Written on the front in small, shaky handwriting were the words, “To Elliot’s Mother.” I didn’t think that was good. I mean, why would anyone address a letter “To Elliot’s Mother,” unless the letter was about me? Why would anyone write Mom about me, unless they didn’t like something I did? I was already in trouble for being late, and I didn’t want more trouble. I examined the envelope carefully and discovered it had a light scent of lavender. Instead of being sealed, the flap was tucked inside the envelope.
I needed to know what it said, but first, I needed to ask Wink to save the GPS coordinates of the hand to a file outside the game. I also wanted to find out what he was talking about when he said, “Just don’t…” If I hurried, I could conjure up Wink before Mom would have time to access her parental controls. I picked up my phone and tapped on The Wisdom of Wink app and waited. Nothing. I tried again, and again nothing. I was banned. How could I tell anyone about the hand when I couldn’t even show them where it was? If that wasn’t bad enough, Wink’s words, “Just don’t…” were beginning to haunt me.
I opened the flap to the envelope and peeked inside. The stationary inside the envelope was violet. I took the letter out of the envelope and saw more of the tiny, ragged handwriting. I didn’t want to get mud on the letter, or Mom would know I read it, so I put the mud-caked envelope aside and went to the kitchen to wash my hands. I returned and unfolded the scribbled note. I munched on pizza while I tried to decipher the tiny scrawl. There were words I knew, like grandmother, son, and biological. I wasn’t sure of the meaning of other words, like extortion. Some of the words I knew the meaning, but I found them confusing and alarming like adoption and illegal. It would have been so much easier to understand if the handwriting wasn’t so small and messy. I could barely read some words and many of the words I couldn’t read at all. Overall, I couldn’t decipher enough words to understand what most of the letter said, but the parts I understood left me perplexed and a little frightened. It must be one of Mom’s warped sense of humor pranks, I told myself.
On the other hand, there was that little old lady in a strange-looking blue car. Recently, I saw her drive past our house, not once or twice, but a few times. The other day I swore she followed me to school. I was riding my bike and could see her in the bike’s mirror. It kind of freaked me out at the time, but I decided it was my imagination, and I figured she just moved into the neighborhood. Come to think about it, I saw her behind us when Wink and I rode my bike to the woods, and I thought I saw her on my way home, too.
It was a lot for my head to figure out at one time. I wasn’t sure if the elderly lady in the blue car was related to the letter. I pondered this as I walked into the kitchen for dessert. Mom hadn’t left anything for dessert, but I knew where she kept her chocolate stash. I opened the refrigerator door and searched the back of the vegetable drawer under the lettuce, bell peppers, and cilantro. Voilà! It was a new stash! Chocolate brownies! When I finished eating pizza and brownies, I started to put the letter back in its envelope, but there was one big problem. The stationary had pizza-grease fingerprints and chocolate smudges. I knew if Mom saw my greasy fingerprints along with the chocolate, she would realize I opened her letter and that I got into her chocolate stash. I put the letter back in its envelope and took it to the tall dresser in my bedroom. I removed the top drawer and placed the letter inside the dresser where the drawer had been. Then I slid the drawer back inside the dresser, just above the letter.
Chapter Three
Saturday morning, I rolled out of bed and made my way into the kitchen for some cereal. Mom was fiddling with the coffee maker, muttering, “I guess I’ll have to buy a new one.” It was bad enough I was in trouble, but now Mom was without her morning caffeine. Trying to talk to Mom without her caffeine fix was like trying to communicate with a wild tiger. Futile! I took out a can of Jolt from the refrigerator.
“Here,” I said, handing the can to Mom.
“You know I only drink that pregame, but I guess it will have to do,” Mom said as she reached for the can. I wasn’t sure which was worse, Mom without her caffeine or Mom on a caffeine high.
“I’m sorry about being late,” I said.
“I’ve decided to ground you for the weekend. You need to learn to be responsible.” She knew I planned to spend the night at Ethan’s.
“But, Mom!”
“Don’t ‘But, Mom!’ me.”
“Mom, I didn’t mean to be late. I was sort of lost, and there was a hand, and it might be real. We have to go back there!”
“Let me guess. You were playing The Wisdom of Wink again. I think you’re obsessed with that game, but what really concerns me is that it’s warping your perception of reality. Elliot, you can’t tell what’s real from what’s not real. I mean, you can’t tell fantasy from reality. Maybe I should nix that game permanently.”
“No, Mom. Please, no. You said one week. You said you were banning me from it for just a week. You can’t go back on your word. Please, give me a second chance. I promise I will never be late again, and I can tell the difference between what’s real and what’s fake. Please, Mom, please.”
“Okay, one week, but you’re skating on thin ice. I don’t want to hear anything more about a hand, or something might be real or might not be real. You must show me you know the difference between reality and fantasy. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I said and left the kitchen without my cereal.
An hour later, Mom called out, “I’m going to the grocery store. Is there anything you need?”
“Just the usual,” I answered.
I heard the door close and looked out the window to see Mom drive off. When I was pretty sure it was safe, I pulled out the top drawer of my dresser and retrieved the letter before I took it to Mom’s printer and made a copy. Then I hid the original violet-colored letter under the top drawer of my dresser. I went to the kitchen junk drawer, found a black marker, and blackened out the salutation and any mention of Mom on the copy of the letter. I scribbled some doodles in the margins. I crinkled the paper, smoothed it out, and wrinkled it again. If Mom caught me reading it, she would think it was a note from one of my friends and not a letter addressed to her. I decided to keep the copy with me in my pocket. Mom wouldn’t find it if it was on me, and if I kept it close to me, I would have more opportunity to examine it.
I tried again to interpret the illegible handwriting and recognized my name in the letter, not once, but at least three different times. If the letter was about me, I needed to know what it said.
The sound of a car pulling up drifted through the open windows. It was too soon for Mom to be back unless she forgot something. I looked out the window and couldn’t believe what I saw.
The odd blue car was in front of our house. A gray-haired lady struggled to get out of the car. She leaned on her cane as she shuffled up our walkway. I was careful to stay out of sight, and I’m pretty sure she didn’t see me watching her. She rang the doorbell and waited while her hands trembled. She reached out to ring the doorbell again. It was weird. When she reached for the doorbell, her hand stopped shaking, but while she waited for someone to open the door, her hand shook. Her angry look with a blank stare scared the heebie-jeebies out of me. There was no way I was going to open the door. After a few minutes and a couple of rings of the doorbell, she opened her purse and took out another violet envelope. She slid the envelope under the door and turned to leave.
In a spontaneous moment, I headed toward the door. I had the urge to open the door and say, “Wait! What is this all about? Why are you following me? Why are you writing to my mom about me? What do you want? Why don’t you leave me alone?” but I stopped in my tracks and chickened out. I stood motionless, held my breath, and watched her shuffle away. I breathed a deep sigh of relief when she got in her car and drove off. I wanted all my questions answered, but this lady was just too weird. She didn’t even stand up straight like a normal person. Instead, she was sort of hunched over, like the pictures in storybooks of old, wicked witches. She wasn’t just a stranger — she was a strange stranger.
I picked up the violet envelope, took out the sheet of paper, and unfolded it. There was more of her small scrawled writing, but it was a little clearer in places than the previous letter. I could make out something about “out of town for a family…” The next word looked like funnel. Was she going out of town for a family funnel? That just didn’t make sense. She was weird, so maybe she was going out of town for a family funnel, whatever that was. I was having problems figuring out her handwriting, so maybe it wasn’t funnel. Maybe it was a different word. Either way, it looked like she was going to be gone a while, and I wouldn’t have her following me around or writing letters to Mom.
I made a copy of the new letter, doodled in the margins of the copy, crinkled and smoothed the copy twice, and put the original letter beneath my top dresser drawer with the first letter. It was time for some serious detective work deciphering both letters.
Chapter Four
Monday morning, while Ethan and I rode our bikes to school, I told him, “I think I’m being followed.” He looked behind us.
“I don’t see anybody.”
“Not now. I mean last week,” I said.
“Dude, you’re such a chick-magnet. Every sixth-grade girl at our school has eyes for you. Let me guess: Mirabel and Iris. They’ve had a crush on you since preschool. Were they tagging along spying on you?” Ethan asked.
“No. No, nothing like that.”
“Another girl from our school?” Ethan asked.
“No. It’s nothing like that.”
“A girl from a different school?”
“No. This is serious. It’s not a girl, not a kid. It’s an adult,” I told him.
“Oh! That is serious. Did you tell your mom?”
“I can’t do that. Mom will say my imagination is running away from me, she’ll tell me I can’t tell reality from fantasy, and she’ll ban me from The Wisdom of Wink for life. Besides, I don’t know how Mom would take to this particular person following me. It’s really creepy and scary.”
“You know who’s following you?” Ethan asked.
“I’m pretty sure it’s my grandmother.”
“Your grandmother? Oh, that is scary. I once asked my grandma to give me a ride to Game Shop. When we got there, she followed me all over the mall. I couldn’t lose her no matter how hard I tried.”