The Adventures of Ava Smith:
The Secret of the Enchanted Forest
The Adventures of Ava Smith:
The Secret of the Enchanted Forest
By Abigail Elizabeth
The Adventures of Ava Smith:
The Secret of the Enchanted Forest
First Edition
Copyright © 2018 Granholm Press
All Rights Reserved.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Please write to [email protected] for permissions.
Cover Design © Bethany Granholm
ISBN:
9781974393763
1974393763
BISAC: Juvenile Fiction / Fantasy & Magic
A Foreword
This story is a work of art developed and conceived by Abigail, a nine-year old storyteller, and dictated to her mother, who transcribed Abigail’s words.
While the characters and storyline are based on events which occurred in Abigail’s life, people she knows, and books she has read, any similarities to real people, events, or fictional characters is purely coincidental.
Any concerns or comments should be forwarded to [email protected].
Acknowledgements
First, I would like to thank my editor, Allister Thompson. I appreciate your good work. You are a five-star editor!
I would also like to thank my mom. Thanks for writing this book with me. Our work will be kept in my heart forever.
I’d also like to thank my teacher Mr. Leahey. You inspire me in many great ways. If I’m in your fifth grade class next year, I’m going to battle you in math. And I’m going to win.
This book is dedicated to:
The Honourable
Ronald G. Furpaws
Ronald, your furry heart makes my life complete.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter One
I
t was exactly two minutes to midnight at the little house on Juniper Street. In fact, it was two minutes to midnight everywhere, but on this particular night, which happened to be Christmas Eve, a strange shadow moved down the sleepy, snowy street, going past the long row of beautifully decorated homes with their wreaths and Christmas lights and stopping in front of Number 24. The shadow was as tall as a man, and in the glowing streetlight a shimmering grey cloak could perhaps have been observed by a watchful eye. Except that nobody saw, because everyone on Juniper Street was fast asleep.
That is, everyone except Ava Smith. As the shadow began to make its way up the driveway, which Mr. Smith had neglected to shovel, ten year old Ava sat up in her bed with a start. She had been dreaming a strange dream, in which dark figures moved across a mysterious wooded hill, and when she called out to them in her sleep they hid behind the trees which sprang up in her imagination.
But that wasn’t what woke her up. No, what woke Ava Smith on Christmas Eve was a cool breeze that moved the beige and white curtains of her bedroom window ever so slightly.
Ava had long, chestnut curls, which she braided neatly every morning and tied with a white bow. But when she went to bed at night she let her hair loose, and now, when she sat up in bed, her curls fell down to her waist in a wild tangle. Ava tossed her hair back with a frown.
Ava was a very serious and responsible ten-year old. When her mother died and her poor father had taken on extra work to pay bills and keep food on the table for Ava and siblings, Ava had become particularly concerned about mortgages and heating bills. Now, when Ava saw the curtains swaying and felt the cool air on her cheeks, she rose immediately from her bed to check the window to see if it was open.
Ava was surprised to find that the window was shut tight, and when she reached for her housecoat to counter the draft she’d felt moments before, she realized that there was no breeze at all, warm or cold. Her green eyes searched the room for anything suspicious, and, finding nothing amiss, Ava wondered if she had been mistaken.
Since she was out of bed already, she reasoned that it might be wise if she checked the rest of the house to make sure lights were off and doors were locked. She put on her slippers and crept down the stairs, her steps soft and silent so as not to wake her sister, Anja, or her five year old brother, Robbie, both of whom were asleep in the room beside hers.
She didn’t need to worry about waking Mr. Smith. He worked all day every day in his shop, where he was a mechanic, and when he went to bed at night he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. He only woke up when his alarm went off at six in the morning.
When Ava reached the bottom of the stairs, she turned left towards the living room, and went straight to the large window that overlooked the street.
The Christmas tree had been placed to one side of the window earlier that very day, which had been Anja’s idea.
If it had been up to Ava, the tree would have gone directly in the middle. She appreciated symmetry and order. But Anja had insisted that the corner was the best and only place for the large tree, and because she was eight years old instead of ten, Christmas meant so much more to her, and Ava had kept silent and Mr. Smith placed the tree in the corner. Anja had been delighted, and when Anja was happy the whole room was immediately brighter.
Ava looked at the tree now and smiled. Christmas was such a happy time for children, she thought. It was only because she was much wiser than her siblings, and even sometimes the other children her own age, that she didn’t believe in magic or fairy tales. She’d learned long ago that Santa wasn’t real, but she’d kept that a secret because she felt it best to let Anja and Robbie have a little bit of happiness and wonder over the holidays, especially since they didn’t have a mother.
Ava looked at the four presents under the tree, which she had wrapped, and reached out to fix an ornament that had fallen off a branch.
It was then that she heard a voice. It was low and rumbling, like thunder. What the voice was saying Ava couldn’t understand, but it sent shivers down her spine and she did the first thing that came to her mind. She hid behind the Christmas tree. The voice seemed to be coming from outside, although it sounded very close, so Ava did something very brave and opened the curtains a tiny bit at the corner so she could see outside, and this is what she saw:
A wrinkled old hand, which seemed to protrude from an invisible body, was hovering in mid-air just before the front door. The voice came from the place where a head ought to be, but she didn’t see any head, only a grey shadow, and every time the shadow spoke blue flames shot from a stick that was clasped in the floating hand.
Is that a wand? Ava thought to herself, but her rational mind proclaimed, It can’t be. Wands aren’t real. This isn’t real. I must be asleep. Ava closed the curtain and shut her eyes tight.
But when she opened her eyes again and looked out of the window once more, the shadow was still there.
She pressed her face against the cold glass pane and narrowed her eyes in suspicion. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say that he was –
“A wizard!” said a voice from behind her. Ava jumped in surprise and then let out a deep sigh of relief when she realized it was just An
ja, who had woken up after having strange dreams of her own.
“It’s not a wizard,” Ava replied, “although it is very like you to choose the most bizarre explanation for any strange occurrence.”
“Then why is he wearing an invisible cloak and holding a magic wand?” said Anja matter-of-factly.
“There’s no such thing as a magic wand, Anja. He, if it’s a he, is obviously a burglar and here is what we’re going to do. I’ll get the camera and you go get dad’s phone. You call 9-1-1 and I’m going to open the door and take a picture. Hopefully he’ll be scared off, but this way the police have evidence for their investigation.”
Ava gave a sharp nod of her head, mostly to assure herself that this was the best course of action.
“What if he doesn’t get scared off?” wondered Anja as she disappeared to get her father’s phone from the charger, “What if we open the door and he just comes in instead?”
Ava had to agree that her sisters observations had merit, so before she went to get the camera she grabbed Robbie’s baseball bat from the closet in the entry way. Anja returned with the phone and stood beside Ava at the front door.
“What’s the password?” Anja hissed, trying to unlock the phone.
“Five-five-five-five,” whispered Ava, “now get ready. I’m going to open the door.”
Ava tucked the bat under her arm and as quick as she could, unlocked the door and swung it open with a defiant “hah!”
But when the cold air rushed in, Ava dropped the bat with a clatter, and when she bent to pick it up she accidentally pressed the button on the camera and the flash went off, and Anja, blinded by the flash, dialled 9-1-2 instead of 9-1-1 and when both the girls looked out onto the front step they saw nothing and heard nothing except the operator on the phone, saying “this call cannot be completed as dialed” over and over again into the night air.
Anja pressed “end call” and looked at her sister.
“There aren’t even footprints in the snow,” Ava said, pointing towards the step, which held no trace of footprints in the creamy snow. “I don’t think we saw anything after all.” She shut the door and locked it once more.
“I’ve had enough nonsense for tonight.” she muttered as she walked back into the living room. “I don’t like talking about wizards and magic, even if it is Christmas Day.”
“No, it’s not!” exclaimed Anja, who was right behind her. “Look at the clock over the fireplace – it says its two minutes to midnight! So it’s still Christmas Eve!”
“It must be broken, then, because that’s what time it was when I came down here, and I’ve been staring out that window for about five minutes, at the very least! I can’t hear it ticking, either. ” Ava replied.
The girls stood as still as they could, both listening for the familiar click of the clock. But there was no sound to be heard. They looked at each other and Ava shrugged her shoulders.
“I suppose it needs new batteries,” she said, “and I’ll see to that tomorrow.” She turned to go upstairs, but just then Anja called out to her.
“It’s not broken, either! Look! The hand just moved!”
Ava came back to look, and she saw that the hand on the clock had indeed moved, not one minute, but two, so that the clock read midnight.
And Ava also saw that underneath the clock, sitting on the fireplace mantle, was a golden key, no bigger than a toothpick. “How strange,” she said, and reached for it.
The key, despite being small, was strangely heavy, and it felt warm in Ava’s palm. She closed her hand around it, and a tingle went up her spine. Without meaning to, Ava shivered.
“What a curious evening,” Ava said aloud.
Anja laughed, a light, musical laugh, and the lights on the tree twinkled briefly and the room lit up in a pleasant glow.
“Merry Christmas!” she said, throwing her arms around Ava and squeezing her tight.
Ava smiled. “Merry Christmas to you, too,” she said and gave Anja a kiss on the top of her blonde head. “Let’s go back to bed.”
Ava went to unplug the Christmas tree lights, which were still twinkling, as if each bulb had a part to play in some merry dance, but she found the cord hanging from the tree, where she’d left it earlier, and not plugged into the wall.
Ava was quite undone with all the strange happenings of the night, and, as was her habit when struggling with things she couldn’t comprehend, she decided to ignore it instead of investigating further.
The girls went back upstairs, Ava with her arm around Anja’s shoulders, and when they reached the room Anja shared with Robbie, Ava put her finger to her lips to indicate silence. Anja climbed into her bed as quietly as she could, trying not to wake Robbie, who was sleeping soundly with his little hand wedged under his cheek. Ava tucked Anja into her bed and turned off all the upstairs lights, and when she went back to her own room she put the little gold key into the drawer where she kept all her secret things.
Then Ava crawled back under her covers and slept a deep, deep sleep. When she woke in the morning she imagined that the whole night had been a dream. And Anja, who was beside herself with the delights of Christmas morning, also forgot about the unusual visitor with the floating hand. The Smith family who lived in the little house on Juniper Street passed that Christmas with happiness and cheer, loving one another and eating delicious treats.
And the golden key stayed hidden in Ava’s drawer for quite some time.
Chapter Two
C
hristmas came and went, and when the holidays were over, Mr. Smith returned to work and the children returned to school. Robbie was in kindergarten, which meant that he only went to school for half a day, and there was a very silly lady by the name of Miss Potter who came to babysit him until Mr. Smith got home.
Miss Potter had long hair that she wore in a heap on the very top of her head, and pink lips that matched her long pink nails. She lounged all day long on the sofa, looking at pictures of pug dogs online instead of watching Robbie. That was okay, though, because Robbie didn’t need watching.
Robbie was a good boy who behaved despite having a babysitter who was as unobservant as Miss Potter. He had wide brown eyes and hair the same chestnut color as Ava. He loved puzzles and drawing pictures and rarely got scolded. In fact, he was rarely in any trouble at all.
This was partly because Robbie had recently developed a particular gift for staying out of trouble, even when trouble came to find him. Ever since the night of the mysterious key, which his sisters hadn’t thought to tell him of, Robbie found that he knew which branches would break when he was climbing trees. He could tell which car was going to go through the stoplight when he was walking to school from the bus. He saw danger just before it arrived and always managed to step right out of the way.
This is how Robbie knew that the big house at the end of Juniper Street had a new occupant. He was sitting at the table eating a cucumber sandwich when he said, quite suddenly, “the grey house just sold,” and then, because he was five and cucumber sandwiches were his favorite, he continued eating.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Miss Potter without looking up from her phone, “that house has been empty for years. It’s creepy and it’s falling apart. The roof is covered with a flock of crows. Nobody would ever live there.”
But when Ava and Anja returned home from school, the first thing they said was, “The house at the end of the street sold,” and Robbie said,
“I know.”
“How do you know that?” asked Ava.
“He probably saw the sold sign when he was out for a walk with Miss Potter,” said Anja.
Robbie said nothing, because it wasn’t true. Miss Potter never took him for walks, even on sunny days, and he hadn’t seen the sold sign, either. What had appeared in his mind like a photograph – what he’d seen flash across his consciousness, just for a moment while he was eating his sandwich – was a very tall, very frightening and very cruel-looking woman standing in the entry way of the grey hous
e, and he’d understood immediately that she lived there.
Robbie listened as the girls discussed the house.
“I hope a family moves in,” said Anja, who always liked new playmates.
“I hope they’re not loud,” said Ava, who liked peace and quiet.
“I hope your father comes home soon,” said Miss Potter, who really didn’t like children.
Ava went to the kitchen and poured a glass of milk for Robbie, then one for Anja, and then one for herself. She ignored Miss Potter. Ava couldn’t wait until she was old enough to be left alone without an adult, and then her father could fire Miss Potter and save some money. Ava put the glasses of milk on a tray and made her way to the kitchen table.
“Be careful you don’t trip over the shoe,” said Robbie, and Ava looked down just in time to see one of Miss Potter’s shoes fly right into her path. Miss Potter had kicked it off while reading something funny on her phone, and she hadn’t looked to see where it had landed. Ava walked around it.
“Come have your snack, Robbie. You too, Anja,” she said, and when they came to sit and drink their milk Ava pulled out her homework.
Homework was one of Ava’s favorite things. She loved learning, but school was so full of people and the kids in her class were so noisy that she had a hard time concentrating on all the things she was supposed to do. She often found herself unable to take all the thoughts inside her head and turn them into sentences to say out loud. But, when all was still and she could concentrate, she was able to write all the words she could not say, and Ava poured her heart into her writing, and fed her mind with books.
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