Blue

by Elizabeth Rose

  Blue (Little Boy Blue)

  Once Upon a Rhyme Series - Book 3

  Elizabeth Rose

  ROSESCRIBE MEDIA INC,

  Copyright © 2019 by Elizabeth Rose Krejcik

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual organizations or persons living or deceased is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form whatsoever without the author’s written permission.

  Cover created by Elizabeth Rose Krejcik

  Edited by Scott Moreland

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  From the Author

  About Elizabeth

  Also by Elizabeth Rose

  Little Boy Blue,

  Come blow your horn,

  The sheep’s in the meadow,

  The cow’s in the corn.

  But where is the boy

  Who looks after the sheep?

  He’s under the haystack,

  Fast asleep.

  Will you wake him?

  No, not I,

  For if I do,

  He’s sure to cry.

  Chapter 1

  Some curses, no matter how old they are, just never die. And this Christmas season was going to be the worst ever. My little brother, Johnny, hadn’t stopped playing that silly horn yet since he found out there was going to be an audition at school for lead trumpet in the Christmas band concert. And the worst part was, he sounded horrible!

  “Pass the potatoes, please,” I asked my best friend, Candy. She lived with us now since her mother’s boyfriend was put in prison. Candy’s mom moved back to Oaken Hills to live with Candy’s sister, Eileen. Not to mention, her mom was getting counseling after being in an abusive relationship with that creep of a boyfriend.

  “What did you say?” Candy shouted from across the table, not able to hear a word over the sound of Johnny’s trumpet. Our dog, Trapper, and Candy’s dog, Champ, barked and ran in circles around the living room chasing each other. Shadow, my late Aunt Bestla’s cat, hid under the piano, probably wishing it was dead.

  “I said, can you please pass the potatoes?” I tried again, wanting to take that old blue trumpet and wrap it around my brother’s neck. We found it in my Aunt Bestla’s house when we moved in. She was eccentric and had a lot of odd things that we inherited. One of the oddest things I found was an old nursery rhyme book buried out in the back yard, along with a crystal shard I wore on a chain around my neck. Ever since that incident, some very strange things had been happening, and I knew they were far from being over.

  “Raven, you’re going to have to speak up,” said my mother, getting up and rinsing her empty plate in the sink. “I thought you were over that stage of being as quiet as a church mouse.”

  I was over it, but not because it was of my own doing. It all happened when that evil spirit, Mary, invaded my body. She was the Mary, Mary from the nursery rhyme – Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary. Part of me kind of liked it when she took over because she’d managed to catch the eye of Dex Campbell, the handsomest guy in high school that I’d had a crush on ever since we moved here. Then again, Mary had an evil side to her, too. But that was nothing compared to Patience Muffet who took over my friend Candy’s body and almost ruined her life.

  “I said . . .” I screamed it this time to be heard over the awful noise. “PLEASE PASS THE POTATOES!”

  Of course, as soon as I started shouting, Johnny decided to stop playing. That made me look like a real fool.

  “Raven Birchfield, there is no need to shout!” My mother reprimanded me, drying her hands on a dishtowel. “How many times have I told you to start acting like a lady? You are sixteen years old now, and I expect you to be more mature.”

  More mature? If my mother wasn’t always working at her two jobs, trying to hold down the fort as a single mother, she might have noticed that Johnny was the immature one, not me. I could have pointed out that she’d just told me to speak up, but it wouldn’t have made a difference. Johnny was her baby and he always got away with everything.

  “Yes, Mother,” I said with a sigh, taking the bowl of potatoes from Candy and rolling my eyes.

  Mother glanced up at the clock and frowned. “I’m going to be late for work at the diner if I don’t leave in the next few minutes.”

  “Leave?” whined Johnny. “But, Mom, it’s my birthday and you promised we’d go out for ice cream.” Johnny turned fourteen today, but still acted like a child as far as I was concerned.

  “Johnny, it’s December and there’s snow on the ground. You don’t need ice cream,” I told him, deciding I didn’t want more potatoes after all, putting down the bowl.

  “Oh, I did promise,” said Mother, her face scrunching up as she said it.

  “Plus, I didn’t open my presents yet,” complained Johnny. “Where did you hide them? I don’t see them anywhere.” Johnny’s head whipped back and forth. His blond hair was raggedy and needed a trim. His bangs were so long you couldn’t see his eyes half of the time. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tripped because he had hair in his eyes.

  “Presents,” Mother repeated with a sigh. “About that, Johnny . . . I didn’t . . .”

  I knew that look on my mother’s face. She didn’t have any extra money for things like birthday presents. I also knew that look on Johnny’s face. It was the look of despair. Ever since our father left us on Johnny’s seventh birthday, it had scarred my little brother. He always got so excited that it was his birthday and then realized it was also the day our father left and things went downhill from there.

  “She didn’t have time to wrap it yet,” I blurted out, trying to save the day. I jumped up from the table and put my arm around my mother’s shoulders. “I’ll wrap the present for you, Mom, and Johnny can open it when you get home tonight.”

  “But Raven,” Mother started as I ushered her to the door.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll find something,” I whispered in her ear, bringing a smile to her face.

  “I won’t be home until after midnight,” said Mother. “I’m not sure I want you two up that late on a school night.”

  The dogs decided to bark and chase each other again, and it worked out in my favor. “Sorry, can’t hear you,” I said, handing her the car keys and her coat and purse and basically pushing her out the door.

  “Maybe we can come by the diner for some ice cream tonight,” suggested Candy, following me across the room.

  “Yeah, I want to go for ice cream,” said Johnny excitedly.

  My mother was a friend of the owner of the diner so we basically got free ice cream whenever we wanted.

  “Oh, good idea,” said my mother, slipping into her coat as she walked to the car. “Raven, make sure Johnny wears a hat and gloves when you walk over to the diner. And don’t be too late because you know it’ll be dark early now that it’s winter.”

  “All right, Mom. See you later,” I said, closing the door so I didn’t have to hear her treating us like babies anymore. After all, we’d been latchkey kids most of our lives, and I basically raised Johnny. I was sixteen and Johnny just turned fourteen, but in our mother’s eyes we’d always be children.

  “All right, let’s clean up the dinner dishes and we’ll walk on over to the diner for ice cream,” I said.

  “The dogs need to go out,” said Johnny, setting down his trumpet on the floor and rushing to the back door with the dogs on
his heels, just so he wouldn’t have to do a lick of work.

  “Aren’t you going to make him wear his coat?” asked Candy.

  “What for?” I headed back to the kitchen with Candy and started cleaning up the mess. “He won’t listen to me anyway. He never does.”

  Candy glanced up at the clock. “Maybe we can do the dishes later and just go to the diner now.”

  “Why?” I asked with a smile on my face. “Is it because Brett is now working Thursday nights as a busboy and it just so happens to be Thursday?”

  “Is it?” asked Candy, picking up a plate and heading over to the sink. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Sure you didn’t,” I said, picking up a stack of dirty plates and heading to the sink. They’d all have to be washed by hand since we didn’t have a dishwasher. “Ever since your little bout with Miss Muffet, you and Brett have had eyes for each other.”

  “Do you think he likes me?” Candy turned on the water and looked back over her shoulder. “I hope it’s not the way I dressed and acted when Miss Muffet took over that he’s attracted to.”

  “Well, there’s only one way to find out.” I reached over and shut off the water. “Let’s get to the diner. I want to make a stop on the way there and pick up something for Johnny’s birthday at the second-hand shop, and they close soon.”

  “Do you have money for that, Raven?”

  “I have a few bucks that I found in some of those boxes of Aunt Bestla’s things in the basement. I can use that.”

  “But I thought you were saving up to get your ears pierced, like Janelle Thompson.”

  “Yeah,” I said, my hand stroking my earlobe as I thought of the way I’d seen Dex nibbling on Janelle’s diamond stud she wore in her ear. Dex was on the football team and Janelle was a cheerleader. She actually had three piercings in one ear and two in the other. Rumor had it that she recently got her belly button pierced, too, and that the boys all wanted to see it. “I have another idea. You take Johnny to the diner for ice cream and I’ll meet you there.”

  “Why? Where are you going?” asked Candy.

  “I saw some boxes in the basement with men’s clothes and things in them. Maybe I can clean something and wrap it up and it’ll make Johnny happy.”

  “Raven, do you think that’s a good idea?” I could see by the look on Candy’s face that she certainly didn’t think so.

  “Whatever you do, don’t let him think about our father,” I told Candy, going to the closet and getting her and Johnny’s coats and pushing them into her hands.

  “Why not?” asked Candy innocently.

  “He left on Johnny’s seventh birthday and Johnny has never been the same since.”

  “Oh. Gotcha,” said Candy, heading for the back door. “I’ll let the dogs in and we’ll go. Don’t be too long, Raven. It’s supposed to snow tonight.”

  “I’ll be fast.”

  I didn’t like going into the basement, especially by myself. I mean, come on, the place was creepy. The whole house was scary and old, but we’d inherited it and as my mother always said, beggars can’t be choosers.

  I opened the door and flicked on the light. One dim light bulb hung from an old, rotten cord. As I started down the stairs, the light bulb flickered. I stopped for a moment, my heart picking up in pace. I prayed the light wouldn’t go out and leave me standing there in the dark. Ever since the episodes with the nursery rhyme characters, I felt uneasy. Of course, it could be worse, I told myself, reaching the bottom of the steps and heading over to a pile of boxes stacked against the old stone foundation wall. After all, this wasn’t half as creepy – or as dangerous, as being out in the graveyard that backed up to the yard. That is somewhere I try to avoid at all costs.

  Digging into one of the boxes, I jumped when a mouse ran out, scaring the hell out of me. “Okay, let’s try a box far away from this one,” I said. Spotting an old trunk, I carefully made my way to the front of the eerie, unfinished basement.

  Pushing aside a few dozen spider webs, a shiver ran up my spine just thinking of all the spiders I’d had to endure when Miss Muffet made her appearance just months ago. But, thankfully, since Candy and I buried Aunt Bestla’s spider brooch that started the whole thing, Miss Muffet hadn’t been seen since. With Mary, Mary, and Muffet gone, I should have been at ease. But lately, I kept getting the feeling that this whole nursery rhyme curse was far from over.

  “Let’s see what’s in here,” I said, lifting the curved lid of the old, wooden trunk. Aunt Bestla was something of a pack rat, and although we’d lived in her house for months now, we still hadn’t gotten rid of all her things yet. I dug through the trunk, interested to see men’s items in there. As far as I knew, Aunt Bestla had never been married. She was the late sister of my father. Needless to say, they were both crazy in more ways than one. For all I knew, maybe Aunt Bestla was a cross-dresser or something.

  I picked up a few items, but threw them back down. They were nothing that a young boy would wear or want. Johnny was going to be very disappointed, and my mother would feel so guilty that she couldn’t afford gifts that she’d probably cry herself to sleep.

  I was about to close the lid when I saw something blue on the bottom of the trunk. I lifted it out and held it up, walking closer to the lone light bulb, trying to see just what I had. After brushing off the dust, I realized it was a blue, leather bomber jacket. It looked warm and was lined with sheepskin. Plus, it looked about the right size to fit Johnny.

  “Hmm,” I said with a satisfied nod. “I think this will do.”

  I heard a low growl behind me, and didn’t turn around to find out what it was. I bolted across the floor and up the stairs and didn’t stop until I reached the top and slammed the door behind me. With my heart beating furiously in my chest, I turned my head to see Trapper sitting there panting. His tongue hung down to his knees. Then I heard that growl again from the other side of the door.

  I might have thought it was a beast from hell, except that Trapper pawed the door and whined. Then it dawned on me that Candy’s dog wasn’t here.

  “Champ?” I slowly opened the door a crack to see the yellow fur of the dog that looked like a lion. “Champ, it’s just you.” I opened the door wide and almost slammed it shut again when I saw the dead mouse in Champ’s mouth. “Drop it,” I said, and the dog did just that, dropping the dead rodent atop my foot.

  I cringed, and ran over and grabbed a plastic bag, scooping up the dead mouse and throwing it into the trash before I got too freaked out looking at it.

  “Good boy,” I said, washing my hands, glad the mouse was gone. I wet a paper towel and wiped down the blue jacket, glancing up at the clock and realizing it was getting late. With a quick wrap job with newspaper, I left the present atop the piano. I figured if I hurried, I could still get to the diner in time to have ice cream, too.

  I put on my coat and noticed Johnny’s blue trumpet lying smack dab in the middle of the living room floor. That kid had no respect for anything. With one hand, I caressed the crystal shard I wore, something I always did to calm myself or when I was in deep thought. I can’t lie. The thought crossed my mind to take the trumpet and hide it, or maybe throw it in the garbage, just so I wouldn’t have to listen to Johnny play it anymore. But as I bent down to pick it up, I figured I’d better not. After all, it was Johnny’s birthday and Dad did leave us on this day seven years ago.

  The fingers of my one hand caressed the crystal while I reached out and wrapped the fingers of my other hand around the trumpet.

  Big mistake.

  Before I knew it, I heard that awful clanking noise like the bell on a ship. I knew that sound only too well, and it only happened every time I entered into an alternate reality.

  Chapter 2

  I quickly let go of my crystal as well as that stupid trumpet, but it was too late. My head dizzied and the room became foggy. My eyes closed and when they opened, I wasn’t even surprised to discover I was no longer in the living room. Nope, I was in the place I feared and hat
ed the most.

  “The graveyard,” I whispered, looking around, expecting to see Mary or Muffet pop up out of the fog. At first, I thought maybe I lucked out and nothing was going to happen. But I knew better than that. The fog parted and I looked down to read the name on one of the gravestones that I hadn’t really noticed before. At the outer edge of the cemetery, it was a tall, worn stone with a large crack running straight down the middle.

  I didn’t want to read the name, honest I didn’t. But something made me look and actually read the deceased one’s name aloud. “Jonathon Wolsey,” I said aloud, holding my breath and waiting for something to happen. But there were no more bells or whistles, and I didn’t see any spiders thank goodness, or any zombies grabbing at me from beneath the ground.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Jonathon Wolsey?” I said once more, racking my brain, trying to think of someone in the nursery rhymes with this name. I’d given up and was about to turn around and walk home, thinking I was really in the cemetery and not in an alternate reality when I heard the cry of the raven. The raven, I found out from the ghost of Aunt Bestla, was my animal spirit guide.

  “Crap,” I said, knowing this wasn’t good. I saw the silhouette of the raven sitting atop another gravestone. Then the fog parted and a heavy-set man wearing a long cloak and little cap of some sort walked out, about scaring me to death. “Wh – who are you?” I demanded to know. If I was going to be haunted by ghosts, I at least wanted a name.

  “You know who I am,” the man said, throwing his nose up in the air. “Everyone knows me.”

  “Are you . . .” my eyes sank down to read the name on the gravestone once more. “Are you by any chance Jonathon Wolsey?”