Prisoner of the Giant Boona Bird (A Griffin Ghostley Adventure Book 2)

by Thomas J. Prestopnik

  A Griffin Ghostley Adventure

  Book #2

  THOMAS J. PRESTOPNIK

  Copyright © 2017 by Thomas J. Prestopnik

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a book reviewer who may quote short excerpts of this literary work in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Visit Thomas J. Prestopnik’s website at www.TomPresto.com.

  Cover Image: iStock

  The journey is the reward.

  Chinese Proverb

  CHAPTER 1

  My Rolling Prison

  CHAPTER 2

  A Strange New World

  CHAPTER 3

  Touching a Hot Stove

  CHAPTER 4

  No Trespassing Allowed

  CHAPTER 5

  A Slight Thaw

  CHAPTER 6

  Judgment Day

  CHAPTER 7

  An Unexpected Detour

  CHAPTER 8

  Roadside Repairs

  CHAPTER 9

  Storytime

  CHAPTER 10

  A Surprise Play

  My Rolling Prison

  “PAY wimmy! PAY wimmy! PAAAAAY wimmy!”

  That tiresome, that annoying–no, that endlessly irritating sound rushes through my ear canal and invades my brain like a hungry caterpillar munching on the fleshy green edges of a tree leaf.

  “PAAAY wimmy! PAAAY wimmy! Gif gif gif!”

  How I wish it would stop! Oh, how I wish I could escape this agonizing racket.

  “PEEEEEZ paaay! PEEEEEZ paaay!”

  But I can’t, for I am trapped. And I am injured, too. And I’m nearly at my wit’s end.

  “Gif gif gif gif giiiiiiif…”

  I, Griffin Ghostley, am trapped in a strange world and cannot fully explain how I arrived here. Did I accidentally stumble through a doorway in time? Get kidnapped by aliens? Or is this all one weird dream?

  “Paaay wimmy… paaay wimmy…”

  I reach underneath my coat sleeve and tightly pinch my arm. Ouch!

  “Paaay wimmy… paaay wimmy…”

  Rats! It hurts, so I’m not dreaming.

  “Gif gif gif gif giiiiiiif…”

  And I’m severely injured too, enduring the throbbing pain of a broken big toe that for now limits my options of escape from this awful rolling prison, this rickety, wooden cart being pulled by two super strange creatures speaking a language I’ve never heard before.

  “Ooooo peeez peeez peeez!”

  And if all that wasn’t bad enough, I must endure the icy presence and the occasional prickly stares of a third creature sitting near me on this seemingly endless journey to who-knows-where. This light brown, furry creature with a lemon-yellow streak in back of its head keeps mostly to herself, rocking back and forth as if in a trance, a finger permanently lodged in each ear as if wanting to shield herself from the beings and goings-on in this odd world.

  “Paaay gif paaaaay…”

  But totally worst of all–

  “Paaay paaaaay giiif…”

  –is the big, loud, feathery passenger standing right next to me. It’s a bird the likes of which I’ve never seen before, and it’s giving me a massive headache. A huge bird nearly half my size, its pale blue feathers and pointed, orange colored beak blazing in my eyes like a neon light that keeps me from getting any sleep while locked in this jostling jail on wheels.

  It claws at me. It pecks at me, constantly nipping at my fingers and my left earlobe and driving me crazy with its constant calls. But as I am injured, and nearly starving too, I have no choice but to endure this burden that has been heaped upon me until I can recover my strength and plan my escape.

  For you see, I, Griffin Ghostley, now far from home, am a prisoner of this giant feathered boona, a weird species of bird if there ever was one. Probably the weirdest I’ve seen in my elevens years on earth, though I am most certainly not on earth now. And it’ll probably be the death of me in the end if I ever make it alive to the conclusion of this journey I’ve been forced to take under its watchful eyes. But a journey to where?

  “Paaaaaaay giiiiiiif…”

  Wait. Is it quieting down? That last annoying call of the boona bird seems less harsh than all the others. A bit softer around the edges. Maybe it’s tiring itself out.

  “Paaay giiif…”

  I can only hope. The two creatures pulling this cart, one petite and furry white, the other a larger, leathery sort, had called back to the bird a few times, no doubt asking how they might please the feathery traveler during this journey. They trudge onward, together pushing against a wooden crossbar along the front of the cart which is attached to the vehicle by short wood poles affixed to each end of the bar. Two rope harnesses fastened to the cart are also fitted over the shoulders of the two drivers to help them propel us forward.

  But neither seems to mind the task. Most of the time they just talk to each other, waving their hands as they communicate. Still, from what I’ve witnessed so far, there’s no doubt in my mind that the boona bird rules the roost around here, so to speak, and that it gives the marching orders to the drivers.

  I, on the other hand, if I even dare to ask a question of the drivers, get no straight answer in return that I can understand. They fling quickly spoken phrases at me in their strange language, probably guessing that that will quiet me up. Binna benna binga! Or gritzy grutzy gratzy! Or something like that. And they laugh a lot, too. They speak so fast that I can’t make heads or tails of their speech, try as I might.

  But maybe that’s for the best. Maybe it’s good that I also don’t know these strange roads we’re upon or when we will arrive. But what I do know is the sentence that awaits me for my offense at the end of this road, and it gnaws at me terribly. I don’t know if I can survive such a punishment, and on today of all days. It is a cold-hearted sentence that I believe hardly fits my crime. But time will tell shortly I guess.

  “Peeeez paaaay... peeeez paaaay… peeez…”

  There it is again. The tiresome call of the giant boona bird seems more labored now as if it’s running out of energy to utter those silly sounds. The blue feathered creature dips its beak into a large clay bowl of water cradled in a bed of straw, tiredly taking a long drink. No doubt its throat is parched after voicing such a racket for so long. When its eyelids droop a bit, my spirits rise and I hold my breath, praying that I’ll be rewarded with a stretch of peace and quiet so I can rest and ponder my most distressing situation.

  “Gif gif giiif…”

  Each utterance, softer, and softer still.

  “Peeez paaay…”

  The eyelids droop even farther upon its downy blue face. The boona bird slowly bends at the knees, gently lowering itself onto the thin layer of straw strewn upon the floor of the rolling wooden cart. I continue to hold my breath and cross my fingers for good luck, praying for a sweet break from this tiring commotion.

  “Peeez paaay… peeez paa…”

  And there it is. Success at last! The boona bird, my jailer and tormentor, is finally asleep, leaving me to my scattered thoughts, broken toe and thoroughly pecked fingers and earlobe. But could I escape now if I tried? Could I bust through the back gate and make a run for
it?

  Hmmm, it’s doubtful right now as I consider my options. Even if I did get off this cart, how far would I be able to run while hobbled by my bad toe? I’d be tackled to the ground and recaptured in no time. And even if I didn’t wake up the boona bird, no doubt I’d be ratted out by that other furry creature with the lemon-yellow streak down the back of her head. Oh, it sits there quietly, still rocking back and forth with two fingers stuck in her ears, ignoring the whole world. But I sense that she has a devious, invisible third eye aimed at me, just watching and waiting until I dare make a move. Then it can sound its hideous alarm, a bloodcurdling scream I don’t ever wish to hear again. The first time I experienced that shrill call earlier in the day is more than enough to last a lifetime.

  I lie down instead on some soft straw, hoping to fall asleep and regain my strength and sanity. My blue companion still rests comfortably nearby, breathing heavily, its closed eyes pointed directly at me. I gaze up at the sky through a crack in the wooden roof as iron gray clouds drift by, recalling my first encounter with the giant boona bird earlier this morning. It was quite a chase.

  A Strange New World

  I remember that cold, gray day in late autumn as if it were weeks ago, but it was only this morning. I was walking through the brittle grass near my house on the outskirts of town along a stretch of nearly leafless trees and a few towering pines, bundled in my favorite fall jacket with the hood draped over my head. The thin cloth gloves I wore were broken in perfectly. They kept my hands warm, yet allowed my fingers the flexibility to throw a football, fling a Frisbee or toss a pinecone across the small pond nearby, its still surface reflecting the ashen clouds like a mirror. I took a deep breath of the brisk, sweet air, savoring this time to myself, finally free for a few moments from the headaches of school and doing piles of homework, from cleaning my bedroom and raking the leaves, and from the constant interruptions, grrrrr, by him.

  Suddenly it hit me, a strange sensation that I couldn’t explain. A vague disturbance of some sort growing in the air. An icy chill ran up my spine and nearly took my breath away, shattering my prized moments of freedom. Something quickly approached. Something was about to change. But what?

  It was getting closer, gaining on me like a menacing shadow, though I couldn’t see anything as I glanced back. Was I about to meet my doom by the work of some invisible hand? Or would I be enveloped in a patch of swiftly growing vines and weeds suddenly awakened at their roots by a magic spell that would twist them tightly around me until I suffocated? I felt as if my world was about to collapse–so I ran!

  I sprinted as fast as I could through the crunchy, frosted grass, looking over my shoulder from time to time, seeing nothing, yet feeling a dark force filling the air, trying to choke off my freedom. I picked up speed, craning my head back one more time to catch any glimpse of my hidden pursuer when I stumbled hard to the ground and felt a searing pain course through my right big toe.

  “Oooooooowwwwwww!” I shouted face down into a clump of grass. I managed to turn over onto my back and grab my right foot now throbbing with pain. Out of the corners of my eyes I spotted a small, jagged rock half buried in the ground, the very same rock that I didn’t see and just tripped over as I went running by.

  I slowly sat up after I caught my breath, suddenly spotting something else. And though my toe still ached as if someone had dropped an anvil on it, I pushed the pain to the back of my mind as I tried to make sense of my surroundings. Gone was the stretch of nearly leafless trees and tall, fragrant pines near my backyard–and my entire backyard, too–as well as a scattering of pinecones and the nearby pond. Instead, I was now sitting in a place I had never seen before, familiar in many ways, but strangely different.

  I closed my eyes and opened them again, hoping the scenery would change back to the recognizable surroundings of home, hoping I was just experiencing a temporary hallucination from a small bump on the head. I quickly rubbed a hand underneath my hood, feeling only my mop of hair. No bumps anywhere. It appeared only that my big toe had suffered any injury, though perhaps my mind had gone on the fritz, too.

  I flipped my hood back as I carefully stood, turning around in a slow circle while curiously examining the new scenery with growing disbelief. And whether I was now dreaming, hallucinating or had passed though a doorway in time, I knew only one thing for sure–I was no longer home.

  Where was I then? The place looked earthlike, sort of. The immediate area was a spread of gently rolling hills with scattered thickets of trees. A field of very tall grass swayed in a gentle breeze to my left. I noticed small, crudely built farmhouses dotting the area, their chimneys exhaling blue and gray wood smoke into the cloudy, midmorning sky. Lines of dirt roads were imprinted upon the distant landscape as if curvy strands of spider webbing.

  I guessed I had either traveled into the past or was flung into a whole other world when I accidentally ran through some fissure in space and time that had opened near my house. I quickly pinched my arm a few times, but didn’t wake up from a weird dream I had hoped I was stuck in the middle of. Nope. This appeared to be something much worse–a living nightmare. I asked myself again, where was I? And more importantly, how would I get back home?

  But those questions were quickly put on a back burner when I thought I heard something move in the tall grass to my left. I shot a glance in that direction and saw a flash of blue color moving through the field gently waving in the breeze. Then all went still. Had that something stopped? Or was I only imagining things? I pressed my fingers along my skull a second time just to be sure. But again, I felt no bumps. I probably wasn’t hallucinating, which could mean only two things. Either the wind was playing tricks with my hearing, or something was cleverly tracking me.

  Suddenly I heard it, and I immediately had my answer.

  “PAAAY wimmy.”

  A faint sound drifted through the air, as if a bird hidden in a nearby tree had called out to another of its kind for a response.

  “PAAAY wimmy.”

  There it was again, but it sounded like the call had originated from the same spot. I stood frozen in place for a few moments, listening intently as I stared into the tall grass. Then I saw it again. I definitely saw it, a flash of blue color speeding through the grass, the dry, thin stalks wildly swishing from side to side. And this entity seemed to be getting closer by the second, heading in my direction!

  A second later it emerged from the tall growth like a swift arrow, charging at me with crazed fury in its eyes. But my own eyes could barely believe in the existence of the creature that was pursuing me–a large, pale, feathery, blue bird about half my height with a pointed orange beak. It ran clumsily but directly toward me, repeatedly calling out paaay wimmy, paaay wimmy. I suspected it was going to tackle me as if looking for its next meal. Needing no further motivation to save myself, I took off as fast as a jackrabbit, making for a small, grassy hill close by in the shadow of a tall maple tree.

  I quickly climbed the hill, my feet touching a series of small, rectangular stones embedded in the dirt as I made my ascent. When I reached the top I glanced behind me, but the strange blue bird was still on my tail, clumsily making its way up the hill in a slightly comical manner. But there was nothing for me to laugh at as I felt my precious freedom under attack. I zipped down the hill at breakneck speed and stumbled near the bottom, somersaulting through a huge pile of dry, crunchy leaves which erupted in mini explosions of orange, red and gold.

  Despite the soreness in my big toe, I popped out of the leafy mound and ran as ably as I could, pulling decaying bits of leaves from my hair as I scoped out my next avenue of escape. But I couldn’t resist taking one more look back as I bolted. I saw that the large bird had fallen on its way down the small hill and was momentarily floundering in the mountain of leaves. I couldn’t help but grin in satisfaction, yet a part of me felt sorry for the creature at that moment.

  But only for a moment.

  In a flash it had righted itself and was again in pursuit. “Gif
gif giiiiif!” it shouted during its awkward run, flinging many other weird calls at me that I couldn’t understand. Once or twice I thought I had heard it make a strange utterance that sounded like boona, feeling as if it was referring to itself at those times. So correctly or not, I decided that this pesky blue creature was a boona bird. But that did little to solve my current problem. The boona bird was still in hot pursuit, gaining on me fast!

  I next veered right and found myself hobbling along on a narrow dirt road, soon spotting a wild thicket of prickly shrubs off to one side. I left the road and darted behind the bushes, pausing to catch my breath as my heart beat wildly.

  I cautiously peered through the sharp branches. Seconds later the boona bird hurried up the road. I hoped it would pass by the shrubs and continue on, but it was too smart to be fooled by my simple trick. It turned off the road as well and made for my location like a fly to rotten fruit.

  “PAAAY wimmy! PAAAY wimmy!”

  I had no choice but to flee at once or be captured. I ran again, my right foot burning with pain. This time I headed toward a pile of neatly stacked firewood along the side of a small tool shed on somebody’s farm. A house stood sleepily in the distance among a half dozen pine trees, a thin trail of bluish-gray smoke snaking up from its chimney.

  I craned my head around the wood pile on the lookout for the boona. I saw it standing in the distance, scanning the terrain as it emitted its mournful calls, but I knew it wouldn’t take very long for that feathered bloodhound of sorts to find me. I needed a place of protection, somewhere that the bird couldn’t follow so I could rest and analyze my devastating situation.

  I glanced at the farmhouse, wondering if the owners would offer me refuge if I kindly knocked on their door. But if I made a run for it, I would be instantly exposed to the boona bird who would give chase once more. And if it didn’t catch me, it would know where I was hiding and most certainly wait me out. Then I wondered if that crazy bird would be gutsy enough to break into the farmhouse and capture me there. That’s assuming I could even get inside.