by Billy Miner
Find out more about Jonathan’s dreams and the inspiration he receives from his odd way of handling books.
Chapter 1: The Life of a Boy
His name was Jonathan, but many in his class didn’t care. He got a little ignored. Bullies beat him up to get his lunch money. Girls thought he was awkward and weird.
But Jonathan had a gift. He didn’t realize it until later; no matter how bad he seemed to perform in reality when participating in games or activities, no matter how socially impaired he seemed to others and how weird he dressed, his mind was a little deviant anyway, meaning that he thought “out of the box.”
Jonathan’s mother had always mentioned his big imagination, but what he could do with it was a mystery to her. How could you possibly make a living with a big imagination? You can’t live off of living in a fantasy world, completely made up and ripped out of context.
Jonathan didn’t know either. He wasn’t worried about making money yet. He was only 10 years old anyway, so facing the hardships of the real world was simply not on his mind. He was a dreamer, and his dreams consisted not only of hopes and aspirations, but also of strange creatures put together by his little genius brains. He was always drawing monsters, worlds, and buildings that didn’t exist, but to him they felt real.
He was asleep. There he was, imagining himself to be in a cold desert in the middle of the night. There were scorpions, tarantulas, and snakes. It was disgusting. He stepped on them, kicked them, and avoided their bites and stings. He lifted his gaze and saw an oasis with palm trees, a tiny waterfall, and rows of fruit trees.
“Help!” he heard a voice say.
On the edge of the oasis, he saw a pretty girl, tied up with ropes and screaming for help.
“Fear not, fair maiden,” Jonathan said as he pulled his sword.
He ran towards the girl and untied her. The ropes fell on the ground and the girl gave him a hug.
“Oh, thank you, sir. You are such a hero! What is your name?”
“Jonathan. My name is Jonathan,” he said proudly.
“Jonathan?” the girl said.
“Yes. Jonathan.”
“Jonathan?” the girl asked again.
“Yes. Jonathan! How many times do I have to say it?”
“Jonathan…” the girl said again. “Jonathan…”
Jonathan woke up. He was in class. He opened his eyes and noticed he had fallen asleep on a school book.
“Jonathan,” the teacher said again as she leaned over his desk.
“Jonathan, wake up.”
“Jonathan…”
It was just a dream, and the words he heard were echoing in his dream by the girl he had rescued. He came to his senses and answered the teacher. The rest of the kids in class were staring at him. Some of them were laughing, some of them looked at him with big eyes; girls were giggling, and one of the bullies in his class made a mean face and a sign with his hand by his throat that indicated he would beat Jonathan up after class.
“Not a pleasant environment to wake up in,” Jonathan thought.
“Can you please get back to your schoolwork? Or should I send you to the principal’s office?” the teacher asked.
“No, sir… uhm… madam. I apologize. I’ll get back to work,” Jonathan stammered.
Everybody laughed. It could have been worse, he thought. But it was pretty embarrassing to say the least.
“Hey, dweeb,” one of the bullies said after class. “Can’t you see the difference between a man and a woman?”
“Leave me alone,” Jonathan said. “Why are you guys always picking on me?”
“Because you’re a little loser,” the other one said.
There were three of them. They were all blocking his way out of the building.
“Get out of here, or I’m going to call the tea… oh, there she is. Teacher!”
They all turned around, but Jonathan was just bluffing. There was no teacher. He just wanted to distract the bullies so he could run away. And that’s exactly what he did. As soon as their heads were turned the other way, Jonathan exited the building and ran towards his house. He sprinted as fast as his legs could carry him and tried not to lose his schoolbag in the process.
At home, he panted heavily and looked at the street. Fortunately for him, he wasn’t strong but at least he was fast. Nobody had kept up. He was alone.
He went inside.
“Hi, mom!” he said.
“Hi Jonathan. How was school?”
“Nothing interesting,” he said.
“Hold on a minute,” mom said. “Are you saying that nothing in school was interesting?”
And that was one of those moments that Jonathan just started rambling.
“Well, I rescued a princess from the desert, but the teacher called my name. And then the bullies tried to take my money when I outran them before I fought the scorpions in the palm tree area, and when I escaped from the oasis, the school bell rang. I hadn’t forgotten about my homework, so I worked hard but it wasn’t enough to take out all the snakes that were fighting me and…”
“Slow down,” mom said. “You’re going all over the place and I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Okay,” Jonathan sighed. “Don’t worry about it then.”
He went upstairs and pulled a book from the shelves. His room was a little messy, but the books on the shelves were well organized. He had counted them once; there were 389 books in his collection.
Chapter 2: Book of Letters
The book Jonathan pulled out was called “Deadly Pirates 2.” He had already read the first one and was excited to read the second one in the series. He admitted that he was a little jealous of the writer of the books. Apparently millions of copies had already been sold since its publication date, and the author had become quite wealthy.
“Someday,” he said. “Someday it will be my name on that front cover. I’ll be famous and I’ll do interviews.”
Oh well. Back to the pirates. He started reading.
The pirates came together in the Cave of Despair, hoping to find their anticipated treasure in a golden chest. The map had led them there. It was as valuable as all the treasures in the ocean combined. But their hopes were in vain. They saw an empty chest. The chest was covered in gold but there was nothing in it. The captain roared in anger, commanding the crew to look everywhere… And so… they… did… obeying.. th.. c… a… p… t…
Jonathan fell asleep. He always became tired when he read books. It was like the words were swimming in front of his eyes. The letters started forming strange combinations that didn’t exist. Words like “captain” became “Ian pact” or “pain act.” Words like “roared” became “red oar” or “or dare.” His brain went all over the place.
But then, a letter jumped in front of him. It was the letter S.
“Shhhtt…” it said.
“You can talk?” Jonathan asked.
“Of course, but please whisper. I am going to make him jump. It will be funny.”
“Who? Who’s going to jump?”
“Ssshhh….”
Jonathan followed him to the other room, where he saw a book. The book was snoring. Weird. Jonathan didn’t even know books could sleep. He watched the letter S sneak up on the book and prepare to scare him.
But suddenly, another letter appeared, the letter B.
“Boo!” the letter B yelled.
“Whaaaah!” the book said as it fell off the shelf.
Jonathan was pleasantly surprised by all these strange little creatures. He had never talked to a letter or a living book before.
“How come you guys can talk?” he asked.
“We’ve always been able to talk, silly,” the book explained. “Let me introduce myself. I am the book of letters.”
Jonathan raised his eyebrows.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” he said. “There are letters in every book.”
“Oh yeah, then what about picture books, photo albums, or empty journals?” the bo
ok said.
Jonathan thought for a second. The book was right. There were books without letters. Then he asked, “So what makes the letters in your book so special?”
“My letters are more beautiful,” he said. “Just go ahead and read.”
“Open up then,” Jonathan said.
“Oh yes,” the book said. “Here you go.”
The book opened one of its pages.
“Wow,” Jonathan said. “What kinds of letters are those?”
“They are simply the letters A, B, and C, but they are decorated,” the book explained. “It’s called calligraphy.”
“But why make it so complicated?” Jonathan asked.
“Because it makes you appreciate the letter more,” the book answered. “Letters aren’t valued as much as before because there are so many of them now. But a few hundred years ago, there was no printing press. Every letter had to be handwritten and carefully put on paper with pen and ink. Anyway, if you use your imagination a little, you can even find shapes in them. If you do, you’ll appreciate the ornaments more. Giving letters a purpose by putting them in the correct order is essential if you want to become a great writer.”
“Really? Okay, let me try to find shapes in them.”
Jonathan looked hard. He stared at the letters and did everything he could to see figures in them.
“Okay, I got it,” he said after a while.
“in the letter A, it looks like there is a sword in the middle of it. In the letter B, there are waves, and the letter C has some kind of plant.”
“Very good, Jonathan,” the book said. “Now, let’s see if you can attach these elements to a real story.”
Pooof!
Before Jonathan could say another word, he was standing on a ship. The waves were boisterous and dangerous. There was a storm. The captain of the ship was yelling all kinds of orders, and Jonathan watched as the men were running up and down to keep the ship steady.
Suddenly, a giant monster appeared. It looked like a plant with tentacles, a vile creature from the deep, ready to devour the ship. Its tentacles were twice as high as the biggest sail on the ship, and the sharp edges of the monster’s end were cutting through the wooden masts.
After a few men went overboard, the monster looked at Jonathan… at least it appeared to be so. Jonathan wasn’t sure if the monstrous plant could look, since it had no eyes. But it was clear to him that it had sensed Jonathan’s presence. Not much later, the giant tentacles went after Jonathan, but Jonathan’s spectacular acrobatic moves avoided every attack coming his way. He jumped over a tentacle, ducked when another one whooshed over his head, and walked up a mast to jump on one of the leaves of the carnivorous plant.
Everyone knew that one boy was no match for such a deadly threat, but Jonathan was determined to end it. He pulled the sword from its sheath and held it in front of him. From the leaf, he slid down to what seemed to be the center of the plant and stabbed it. The monstrous green thing screamed in pain. A few more tentacles swept several men away from the deck, but its energy was gone. It had been slain. It was sinking and had released the ship from its grip.
The men who were left standing cheered and carried Jonathan on their shoulders, thanking him for his courageous act and proposing that he would be promoted. It was a wonderful feeling.
Jonathan woke up. He realized that he had been in a dream; but the dream was in a dream too. It was complicated. One thing was for sure: He appreciated letters more. He told himself he would never mess them up the order of letters again and create consistent words.
Chapter 3: Book of Words
The next day, Jonathan came home from school again. This time the bullies didn’t even see him vanish. He found a sneaky back route out of the school building and had escaped their evil clutches.
At home, he decided to read something else. He had finished the pirate book, and the third book in the trilogy wasn’t even out yet. He looked at his shelves and moved his finger across the books, mumbling the titles softly as he quickly read over them.
He read the title of a lugubrious looking book, “Skeletons of the Deep.” It had been a while since he read anything in the horror genre, so he decided to pick it up. He began to read.
The gloomy atmosphere had an eerie effect on the fading fog. When the skeletons appeared, they were covered in macabre rags, hanging from their damaged bones. A gruesome image depicted before his very eyes when he had flashbacks from the abhorrent pain the dead had inflicted… upon… t… h… e…
Jonathan fell asleep again. He dreamt he was standing on the road in the middle of the night. In the distance, he saw something flying at him. Was it a ghost? A witch?
Whoosh!
It went so fast that Jonathan had trouble discerning its shape.
Whooosh!
It flew by again, but this time, it landed on the ground. It was another book!
“Greetings, Jonathan,” the book said. “Are you ready to learn more about words?”
“I suppose so,” Jonathan said. “I just met the letter book, so are you the word book?”
“I sure am. Let me take you to an interesting place. Hop on and I will fly you over there.”
Jonathan hopped on and held on tightly to the book’s pages. It was a lot of fun to dash through the air like that, although Jonathan thought it was a little too cold. He wasn’t too happy about that. Eventually they arrived at a graveyard.
“The graveyard?” Jonathan asked surprised.
“Yes. Because here, words can come to you naturally.”
“How so?”
“The graveyard is empty, isn’t it?” the book said. “But everybody knows it is full of secrets. Choose the right words, and you can make up numerous stories of what happened to the living and the dead, the ones who lived their lives and died because of this or that, and the undead who rise from the grave and have their own motives. Love, deceit, betrayal, revenge, greed, and envy are all causes of murder, conspiracies, and unfinished emotions. Can you let the words flow through you and make up a story? The trick is to pick the right verbs and adverbs that will sketch an image in the mind of the reader with a lasting impression. Come one. Give it a try.”
Jonathan closed his eyes. He tried to feel the wind and see the howling spirits that were haunting this dreadful place. Inspired by the book of words, he could see all the stories hidden and buried beneath the ground.
Jonathan opens his eyes. He feels the wind and sees the howling spirits haunting this dreadful place entering the graves and awakening the dead.
“Zombies!” he yells.
Hordes of zombies rose from the graves as they threw dirt in the air and made a growling sound.
“We’ve got to do something!” Jonathan said to the book.
But the book was gone. It was as if Jonathan had become one with his own fantasy world, his imagination. He looked around him. The zombies were coming from everywhere.
They came from all directions… green, filthy zombies in blue clothes, ready to attack and eat their victims.
Jonathan ran away.
“Aaaah!” he screamed.
But then he turned around. If the zombies would spread through the village, they would attack its inhabitants. He was not going to let that happen; so he ran back, looking for a weapon to use against these mindless monsters.
“There!” he said.
It was a shovel that was stuck in the ground by the one who buried the corpses. Jonathan grabbed hold of the shovel and spun it around as if he had been using it for decades.
“Come and get me, dirty zombies,” he said in a low voice.
The zombies came at him.
Bang!
He hit one on the head.
Bang!
There went another one.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
He kept hitting zombie after zombie until they were only a few left.
Bang!
“Whoops,” Jonathan said.
The shovel broke. Now how was he going to bea
t them? He could use the stick, but it wouldn’t be effective enough. He knew that.
Then he got an idea. He stepped in front of an empty grave and taunted the few zombies that were left.
“Wraaah!”
They came straight at him. Jonathan waited and waited… and waited… NOW!
He quickly stepped aside and the zombies fell in the grave. Jonathan grabbed the end of the shovel and used it to fill up the grave with sand as fast as he could. The zombies were stuck. They were drowning in the sand and couldn’t get out.
“Serves you right,” Jonathan said while stomping on the grave with his feet.
He woke up. That was awesome! A little scary, but also really cool. He came to his senses and got the message: If you use your imagination and a little variety in your wording, you can write an incredible story.
Chapter 4: Book of Pictures
School was boring the next day. For some reason, Jonathan just couldn’t stay focused. The teacher’s words went in one ear and out the other. He couldn’t even recall what was being taught. Useless facts about some king in a distant country or a math problem he was certain he would never use in his life.
When he was home, he was eager to read another book. It was almost predictable that he would fall asleep again, but it was okay, because those were exactly the moments that he felt like he got new insights and new ideas for stories.
He looked at the books on the shelves.
“Jonathan!” his mother yelled from downstairs. “Please come do the dishes. I told you it was your turn.”
“But mom, I was just going to read!”
“You’ll have to do it afterwards then. Come do the dishes first.”