Read Online Land of Shadows (The Legend of the Gate Keeper Book 1) by Jeff Gunzel - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jeff Gunzel
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jealousy of Jacob in his free-spirited ways.
“Of course I am. Someone will need to pick you up off the ground,” said Eric, returning the huge grin. “So you think I might lose, do you?” his friend replied with his hands held out wide and one eyebrow raised. He then began pacing back and forth, still holding the sarcastic pose with his eyes looking up, fixed on nothing as he said, “I suppose it’s possible, no matter how unlikely. I could fall and injure myself before the competition ever begins. Lightning could strike me in the head four consecutive times before lunch time. Demons might fly out of the sky and—”
“Alright, by the gods,” Eric said, laughing into the back of his hand. “I said I will watch, now go and get ready. I’ve got to clean up here and get ready myself. I’ll see you there,” he said, already looking around the booth, deciding what to take care of first. After putting all his tools away and sweeping the black ash from the floor, Eric took one last long look down the street. He pulled down the light cage that covered the side openings of the booth and locked it.
Eric lived only a short distance away, but it took longer than usual to walk there, given how the streets and walkways were beginning to fill up quickly. People were putting the last touches on their wagons. Final streamers and decorations were being hung wherever there was still a place to put them.
Children were running in the streets, laughing and waving pinwheels around, trying to make them spin faster before their parents came to scoop them up and bring them back to the walkway, which was where they were supposed to be all along.
When he got back home and walked inside, his father was sitting in front of the fireplace, slumped over in a chair with his head in his hands. He didn’t even seem to notice Eric walk in.
The living room was rather modest-looking, sporting wooden floors and furniture. There was a simple table made of pine, and four matching chairs. The wooden couch and large chair were decorated with brown cushions that were handmade by Henry years ago and still served well enough. The fireplace was quite large, with candles and little wooden figurines on the platform above the hearth.
Eric strolled up to his dad, who still didn’t seem to notice him. “Dad?” he said in barely a whisper, leaning down close to his father’s ear. “I’m going to get ready to go out. You shouldn’t just sit here. I think you will have fun. The celebration will be everywhere. Just step out for a while.”
Eric stood there for a minute, until the silence became unbearable. He sighed and turned to walk upstairs to his room.
“You know, I didn’t say happy nameday last week,” Henry said in a soft voice, not looking up, with his head still in his hands. “Twenty years old. I can’t believe it’s here already.”
It was true. Eric had turned twenty years last week. He and his dad never celebrated or even spoke of it. This was not that unusual, though. As he had gotten older, they had acknowledged his nameday less and less, but this was the first year his dad had not said anything at all.
Not knowing exactly what to say, Eric ambled up the stairs to his room and sat on his bed for a moment. Why was his dad acting stranger and stranger every day? Eric loved his father, but did not know how to tell what was really bothering him or how to get through to him.
He just sighed and looked around the room at his simple set of belongings. A wooden dresser stood against one wall. A small mirror attached to the top of the dresser, and one plain wooden chair sitting in the corner, were about all that could be seen. Eric sat in that chair frequently to read by the light of his old lantern. Not his usual studies that he would read downstairs at the table, but his private collection of adventure books that he had loved since he was a child. He loved stories of folk whose lives were exciting and had meaning, where the fate of the
“Of course I am. Someone will need to pick you up off the ground,” said Eric, returning the huge grin. “So you think I might lose, do you?” his friend replied with his hands held out wide and one eyebrow raised. He then began pacing back and forth, still holding the sarcastic pose with his eyes looking up, fixed on nothing as he said, “I suppose it’s possible, no matter how unlikely. I could fall and injure myself before the competition ever begins. Lightning could strike me in the head four consecutive times before lunch time. Demons might fly out of the sky and—”
“Alright, by the gods,” Eric said, laughing into the back of his hand. “I said I will watch, now go and get ready. I’ve got to clean up here and get ready myself. I’ll see you there,” he said, already looking around the booth, deciding what to take care of first. After putting all his tools away and sweeping the black ash from the floor, Eric took one last long look down the street. He pulled down the light cage that covered the side openings of the booth and locked it.
Eric lived only a short distance away, but it took longer than usual to walk there, given how the streets and walkways were beginning to fill up quickly. People were putting the last touches on their wagons. Final streamers and decorations were being hung wherever there was still a place to put them.
Children were running in the streets, laughing and waving pinwheels around, trying to make them spin faster before their parents came to scoop them up and bring them back to the walkway, which was where they were supposed to be all along.
When he got back home and walked inside, his father was sitting in front of the fireplace, slumped over in a chair with his head in his hands. He didn’t even seem to notice Eric walk in.
The living room was rather modest-looking, sporting wooden floors and furniture. There was a simple table made of pine, and four matching chairs. The wooden couch and large chair were decorated with brown cushions that were handmade by Henry years ago and still served well enough. The fireplace was quite large, with candles and little wooden figurines on the platform above the hearth.
Eric strolled up to his dad, who still didn’t seem to notice him. “Dad?” he said in barely a whisper, leaning down close to his father’s ear. “I’m going to get ready to go out. You shouldn’t just sit here. I think you will have fun. The celebration will be everywhere. Just step out for a while.”
Eric stood there for a minute, until the silence became unbearable. He sighed and turned to walk upstairs to his room.
“You know, I didn’t say happy nameday last week,” Henry said in a soft voice, not looking up, with his head still in his hands. “Twenty years old. I can’t believe it’s here already.”
It was true. Eric had turned twenty years last week. He and his dad never celebrated or even spoke of it. This was not that unusual, though. As he had gotten older, they had acknowledged his nameday less and less, but this was the first year his dad had not said anything at all.
Not knowing exactly what to say, Eric ambled up the stairs to his room and sat on his bed for a moment. Why was his dad acting stranger and stranger every day? Eric loved his father, but did not know how to tell what was really bothering him or how to get through to him.
He just sighed and looked around the room at his simple set of belongings. A wooden dresser stood against one wall. A small mirror attached to the top of the dresser, and one plain wooden chair sitting in the corner, were about all that could be seen. Eric sat in that chair frequently to read by the light of his old lantern. Not his usual studies that he would read downstairs at the table, but his private collection of adventure books that he had loved since he was a child. He loved stories of folk whose lives were exciting and had meaning, where the fate of the
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