Read Online Lost Places by Carla Jablonski - Free Book Online

bold now, Tim tossed the energy ball back and forth between his hands. “You know, my auntie Blodwyn collects little porcelain dogs,” he said, his tone quite casual. “Pekinese dogs with huge googly eyes, to be exact.” He moved his hand into a perfect position to lob the energy ball at the Other Tim. “It’s her birthday next week, and I haven’t had a chance to go shopping.” He cocked his head at the Other Tim. “Catch my drift?”
    The Other Tim frowned, and his eyes narrowed behind his glasses. Then he rolled his eyes. “Oh, go that way.” He pointed to a path through bare-branched trees. “Keep to the path if you want to be safe. Cut through the woods if you’re in a hurry.” He smirked again. “Or stupid.”
    Tim turned to cut through the woods. He was definitely in a hurry. He had wasted too much time talking to “himself.”
    â€œYou don’t even say thank you?” the Other Tim called behind him. “You jerk! You don’t have a personality, you have a bloody entourage!”
    â€œCan’t argue with him on that point,” Tim muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. The little Tims buzzed around like annoying gnats.
    â€œI can’t believe he’d just let us go like that,” a little Tim said.
    â€œYou’re right. This has got to be a trap.”
    â€œNever mind all that!” another Tim chimed in. “What I want to know is could we really have done it?” The little Tim tugged on Tim’s collar. “Could we?”
    â€œDone what?” Tim asked.
    â€œCould we really have turned him into a porcelain knickknack thingie?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Tim admitted. “I sort of had a feeling we—” He shook his head. “I mean, I could have.”
    He held out his hand again, remembering the sensations he had during his confrontation with the Other Tim. The energy ball reappeared. “I mean, I was looking at him, the way he smirked and it just popped into my head. He’d fit right in with Auntie’s obnoxious dog collection.” Heshrugged. “Maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be, with magic. Maybe the stuff that works is the stuff you don’t have to think about.”
    All the Tims started chattering at once.
    â€œThat’s a terrible way to think,” a little Tim scolded. “You, um, ought to think about everything a long time before you even consider doing anything.”
    â€œReally?” another Tim responded. “Do you think so?”
    â€œOh yes. Well…probably.”
    â€œMaybe, maybe not.”
    â€œI do wonder why he let us go. It could be just a trap and then where’d we be?”
    â€œWhere are we now ? That’s what I’d like to know.”
    â€œWe should have a plan, not just walk blindly through a place we don’t know that’s populated by demons.”
    Tim picked up speed. He dashed under low branches, over gnarled roots, around shrubs, hoping he’d lose the chorus of Tims. No such luck. They could fly and were so small, they had a much easier time in this grasping, clutching landscape where every tree limb or mound of dirt seemed intent on tripping him and his human-sized feet. All I’m doing is wearing myself out, he realized, and stopped his mad charge through the shadowyforest. He trudged more slowly, working hard to ignore the continual chatter of the swarm of Tims.
    He rounded a bend, and found himself facing a bridge. It looked like an ordinary wooden bridge—slats, boards, sides—only Tim couldn’t see the other end or what the bridge spanned, hidden by a thick fog that had suddenly appeared. He heard no sound of water—lapping, rushing, babbling, or otherwise—so the bridge didn’t cross a river. So why was it here?
    â€œUh-oh,” the Tim on his right shoulder said. “A bridge.”
    â€œShould we cross it?” the Tim