Leven Thumps
The Complete Series
Obert Skye
© 2012 Obert Skye.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher, Shadow Mountain®. The views expressed herein are the responsibility of the author and do not necessarily represent the position of Shadow Mountain.
All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Leven Thumps and the Gateway to Foo
Table of Contents
Leven Thumps and the Gateway to Foo
The Beginning
A Relative of Foo The Birth of Leven
A Cold Wind Blows In The arrival of Winter
Where Monsters Live
Geth
Fourteen Years Old
Hairy Situation
Lightning Strikes Twice
Everybody Please Remain Seated
Sabine's Rant
A Marked Target
Taking an Ax for the Home Team
Divide and Conquer
Realizing You Have Nothing
I Can See Clearly Now My Head Is Gnawed
Run Faster
Picked Out of a Crowd
Dirty Rotten
A Little Disappointed
Lift, Huck, and Listen
Fury by Design
We Felt the Earth Squirm under Our Feet
Swallowed Whole and Alive
The Strength of Shadows
All Aboard
Leaving on a Midnight Train to Danger
Boats Are Too Slow and Planes Are Too Complicated
Closer
Blown Away
Physical Again
The Occidental Tourist
Foo
Who's Who in Foo
The Order of Things
Leven Thumps and the Whispered Secret
Taking Charge
Let 'er Rip
Wedgie
Thorn in Their Side
Chew for Your Life
And Then There Was Sorrow
The Unlikely Cog
It Turns Out There Are Dumb Questions
The Ring of Plague
Friends Come in All Sizes, but Usually They Are Bigger Than a Toothpick
Royal Flush
Here and Foul
The Weight of Fate
Look Both Ways Before You Cross the Street
The Swollen Forest Before the Trees
Icy Reception
Blackness Gathers
Bugged
The Once-Perfect Balance of Foo
Aisle Seats Are Better
Separated at Bite
Be Careful Where You Step
The Spirited Hitchhiker
Washed Away
I'm on the Top of the Whirled
Bridge to Niteon
Entering Morfit
Snapped
Signs o' the Time
Throwing Fear
Egyptian Silk
Choosing a Path
Stolen
Echoes of the Blast
Door Number One
The Fuel of Feelings
Opening Your Eyes
The Construction Begins
The Calm
The Whispered Secret
Who's Who in Foo
The Order of Things
Leven Thumps and the Eyes of the Want
A Stern Warming
Futile and Futiler
Mirrors and Rafters
Digging Up the Future
Four Leaf
Very Bold
Question Everything
A Blanket of Twinkling Stars
A Delivery to Lith
One and One Make One
A Little Time
Big Bold Words at the Beginning of a Chapter
Bruised
Completed
Unfortunately, We Are Family
Uncertainty
Gathered for a Cause
Nothing Left, Nothing Right
Den of the Dead
Witnessing the War
Extracted and Strangled
Distance to Death
Wet from the Inside Out
The Beginning of an End
Longing for More
Waking Up on the Wrong Side of the World
A Chance to Stretch
Don't Let the Box Bugs Bite
Splinters
A Reversal of Proportion
What You Can't See Can Scratch You
Going Down
Falling Just Right
Sharing Is Not Always a Good Thing
Awkward Moments
Swig of Foo
Dangling
Into the Dark
Too Late
Swabs
Tree Dive
The Realization
Glossary
The Order of Things
Leven Thumps and the Wrath of Ezra
Nutshell
Nothing Looks the Same in the Light
The Trappings of Comfort
You Scratch My Shell, I'll Scratch Yours
Look at Me, I'm a Chapter Heading
The Devil's Spiral
THE PLUD HAG
Let the Longing Begin
Leaning Too Far One Way
Don't Fear the Reaper
The Invisible Village
Far and Away
Completely Strung Out
Dealing with Dolts
Untitled
Take Me There
Hide-and-Eat
Evil Is Always Dark at the Core
Pulling Back the Curtain
There Is No "I" in Abduct
Not Everyone's Attractive
Shatterball
Coming to an Uncomfortable Understanding
Blue Hole Lake
The Journey of a Hundred Feet
How Sycophants Die
Killing Me Softly with Blinders On
The Glass Breaks
Palms Up
Nothing Justifies the End
The Bionic Toothpick
The Candor Box
Small, Fear-Filled Hearts
The End of Terry and Addy
Evil in a Vest
Connecting with the Dearth
One-Word Answers
A Very Fragile Pattern
A Moment to Breathe
Suspicious Minds
Split Decisions
The Son Will Come Out Tomorrow
Who's Who in Foo
The Order of Things
Leven Thumps and Ruins of Alder
Long Night
When Peace Is Shattered
I'm Not Sleeping Anymore
Allergic Reaction
When It Comes to the Subject of Tim
A Little Privacy, Please
So Many Misfits
When the Whispering Fades
A Very Important Piece of Land
Divided We Ride
Always Something There to Remind Me
On the Rocks
Tag, You're Wrong
When Worlds Collide
Drained
Somewhere There's a Place Where We Belong
Pulchritude Aplenty
Sizing Up the Competition
Never in His Wildest Dreams
The Disadvantages of Following the Crowd
The Worst Shall Be Third
Finding What You Didn't Know Was Missing
Peel Away the Skin and We're All Quite Similar
Fuzzy
It's Raining Confused Men
Picking Yourself Out in a Lineup
And the Walls Came Tumbling Down
Way to Worship
There's No Repellent Strong Enough
The Residue of a Life Well Lived
Karma
Maybe Just a Bite
Oklahoma Bound
Fair Fight
You Don't Know What You've Mocked Till It's Gone
Just Add Water
Standing Before Both the Problem and the Answer
Explaining to Yourself
Hurry Up and Wait
Sticks and Stones
All Together Again
There's Nothing Better Than Brisket
Outta Whack
Your Name Here
Record Play Stop Fast-Forward Rewind Eject
To Be or Not to Be
The Perfection of Possibilities
The End
Who's Who in Foo
The Order of Things
Leven Thumps and the Gateway to Foo
Visit us at leventhumps.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Skye, Obert.
Leven Thumps and the gateway to Foo / Obert Skye.
p. cm.
Summary: When fate brings fourteen-year-old Leven and thirteen-year-old Winter together, they discover that for mankind to continue dreaming, the gateway between reality and dreams needs to be found and demolished.
ISBN-10 1-59038-369-9 (hardbound : alk. paper) ISBN-13 978-1-59038-369-8 (hardbound : alk. paper)
eISBN 1-60641-650-2 (eletronic)
[1. Magic—Fiction. 2. Dreams—Fiction. 3. Fantasy.] I. Title.
PZ7.S62877Le 2005
[Fic]—dc22
2004025103
Printed in the United States of America
R. R. Donnelley and Sons, Crawfordsville, IN
10 9 8 7 6 5
“. . . it is a place where possibility is eternal; where scenery can change as effortlessly as dreams. There a being’s view is shaded not by obstacle or travail, and impossible is a whisper spoken only by the souls who have just accidentally stepped in. It is a place where young children play in the shadows of Morfit, their voices a familiar melody, singing low in the wind, ‘Step on a crack and Foo will snatch you back . . .’”
The Beginning
It was at least forty degrees above warm. The day felt like a windowless kitchen where the oven had been left on high for an entire afternoon. Heat beat down from above and sizzled up from the dirt as the earth let off some much-needed steam. The sky had decided it had had quite enough, thank you, and had vacated the scene, leaving the air empty except for heat. No matter how wide a person opened his mouth that afternoon or how deep a breath was taken, there just wasn’t enough oxygen in the air to breathe. The few remaining plants in people’s gardens didn’t droop, they passed out. And the flags that only days before had hung majestically on the top of local flagpoles no longer looked majestic, they looked like multi-colored pieces of cloth that had climbed up and tragically hung themselves.
All this in and of itself was not too terribly unusual, but as the heavy sun started to melt away an odd, wild, uncoordinated wind began to pick up. Not a northerly wind or an easterly breeze, it was a wind with no direction or balance. It was as if the four corners of earth and heaven all decided to simultaneously blow, creating what the local weather personalities in Tin Culvert, Oklahoma, called “beyond frightening.” Sure, people could breathe, but now they were getting blown away.
Trees bent and writhed, whirling like pinwheels as the atmosphere pinched and pulled at them. Rooftops buckled and nature picked up huge handfuls of dirt and spastically flung them everywhere. Cats learned how to fly that evening, and any loose article weighing less than a car was taken up in the rapture of the moment. People locked themselves in their homes, radios on, waiting for someone to tell them everything was going to be okay, or for nature to do them in.
As dusk matured into night and just when those cowering in fear could stand no more, a darkness, the likes of which had never before been seen, began to ooze up from the ground and ink in the gray of evening. The hot windy sky quickly became a thick sticky trap. Animals that had foolishly taken shelter in trees or ditches began to suffocate as the heavy, plastic-like blackness folded over them. The wild wind swooped in from all directions to steal their last breaths and leave them dead where they once whined.
The blackness weighed down on everything. Porch lights burst under the weight of it. If the wind had been absent, a person could have clearly heard the explosion of almost every light and window in Tin Culvert as the fat, dark atmosphere let its full bulk rest upon anything glowing. Homes came alive with screams as front windows buckled and blew inward. Cars and mobile homes creaked under the force of darkness upon their backs. People cowered under tables and beds trying to escape the advancing crush.
Just when it looked like the end of the world had officially begun, the lightning started. Jagged stripes of blinding light flashed continually against the black sky. Anyone foolish enough to be standing outside would have been able to watch as the lightning moved with calculating accuracy, deliberately touching anything above ground level and quickly setting it ablaze. It moved sideways and upward. The sky became a giant blackboard with heaven scratching out its apocalyptic messages with lightning bolts.
Tin Culvert was dying, and this was the first night of the end of its life. Fate had set its course and was making certain to carry it out.
Even amongst the complete destruction and panic, a person would have had to be dead not to hear and feel the thunder that struck at exactly 10:15 that fateful night. The boom was felt as far as fifty miles away, and the entire sky fractured from light, scribbling one final message—“It is over!”
Lightning bled down on everything, touching and igniting any structure Tin Culvert had ever dared raise. People finally figured out that hiding was no longer a sensible option. Folks set out into the open, desperate to get away from it all.
In the chaos nobody noticed Antsel, a thin, aged man running across the ground at a terrific speed. Electrical static buzzed around him as he flew across the earth. The odd little man had traveled half the world to get to this spot and now, as the moment grew closer, his heart and soul surged. Fire raged up around him as he moved. His long beard curled and began to singe at the edges.
Lightning flashed in the tumultuous sky.
Antsel’s stride became uneven, his face red with sweat and heat. He ran in a pattern, away from the fire and as if he were trying to throw somebody off his trail. The thick gray robe he wore flapped in all directions as the wind became aware of him and started to work him over.
Lightning flashed again.
Antsel stumbled and fell as he looked toward the sky. His knees plowed into the earth as he ground to a halting stop.
Lightning flashed yet again.
Kneeling, he reached with aged hands into his robe and pulled out Clover, a small cat-like creature—the tiny being wriggled and spat angrily.
“Be calm,” Antsel ordered, wiping sweat from his own forehead.
Instantly the small furry being relaxed. Clover’s tiny body was covered with gray hair. He had leaf-like ears that were thick and wide, and his knees and elbows were as bare as any palm. He had on a tiny cloak that was the color of his fur but shimmered slightly under the light of fires.
“This is it,” Antsel whispered with severity. “The shadows will soon be here. You know what you must do. It’ll be some time from now, but he will be here, and the girl as well. Be patient.”
“Only if you tell me to be.”
“Be patient,” Antsel insisted.
“I won’t leave you,” Clover whimpered.
“You will leave me,” Antsel commanded.
“I will leave you,” he answered.
“Now run!” Antsel shouted, setting the furry creature down. “Run!”
Clover looked at Antsel. “You will be proud of me?”
“Of course. Now run.”
Clover spat and smiled. H
e jumped, shivered violently, and ran off on two feet, bucking oddly as he leapt, and was lost almost instantly in the dark. Antsel gazed after him. He knew the risk he took in putting so much trust in such a mischievous creature, but he had no choice. He turned and ran the opposite direction.
Lightning flashed.
Antsel slowed his pace, feeling his age and marveling over the fact that his heart had not yet given out. He reached into his robe and withdrew an object more important than any soul within a million miles could comprehend. Sweat poured from his neck and wrists, and he could feel his heart beginning to crumble. Antsel held the tiny seed up to the light of the surrounding fires and glanced at it one last time.
Lightning flashed again.
He placed the seed back in his robe and kneeled. He pressed his face to the ground and used his ability to see everything beneath the soil. Every insect, every particle. This was the perfect spot. He lifted his head and brushed the sweat from his eyes. He then began to dig. His old hands bled and trembled as he plunged them deeper into the dark, rich earth. Lightning struck continuously as fire after fire ignited. The atmosphere began to relax, drawing in more oxygen to feed the flames.
Antsel paid no attention.
He had something to finish. He pulled the seed out again and pressed it down into the earth, then worked madly to fill the hole with the soil he had scraped out.
Lightning flashed, thunder crashed, and the howling of the wind increased.
He looked over his shoulder and shuddered. They were here, he could feel it in the wind. Antsel glanced at the ground, knowing that the fate of a thousand generations rested beneath only a foot of soil.
“Grow, Geth,” he whispered. “Grow.” Antsel patted the ground and dusted his palms. His job was done, and he stood with purpose.
Lightning flashed again, while simultaneously a sickened soul in another realm breathed a small dark army of shadows out over Tin Culvert. Sabine sat impatiently in Foo, breathing heavily and yet with control, letting his shadows twist down through the dark dreams of men and into reality. His castoffs were darker than the night, black. Like a perverted wind they swirled and billowed as they rushed across the fiery earth, laughing and screeching. Their white eyes and shrill voices gave their two-dimensional forms an eerie depth. Invisible to mankind, they swept the fiery landscape. They were not here to sightsee, however; they were here for a purpose.