Gwendolyn and the Last Goblin

By T.S. Adams

Gwendolyn is a young girl waiting to celebrate her twelfth birthday and for someone to ask her to the school dance. Her normal life gets uprooted by strange events revolving around a mysterious wooden box her grandfather left for her the day she was born. She finds herself in a world of magic and mystery and has to discover the answer to her past and the destiny of her future. Aided by new friends along the way, she wonders if she can ever find her way home again, or will she find everything she ever held dear to be nothing more than a lie?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jan 31, 2019
• ISBN: 9781642997064

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Gwendolyn and the Last Goblin

T.S. Adams

Copyright © 2018 by T.S. Adams

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

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1

The storm blew in from the coast, sending high ocean waves crashing against the beaches and rocky shorelines. White foam from the churning of the ocean water blew in, coating everything around the beaches in white. The people fled for the most part toward Northern Florida. The weather report said the storm would blow back out to sea before it reached Northern Florida. The streets of town lay empty of people, and every building had plywood nailed over their windows. The driving rain hammered against the buildings, trying to find a crack it could seep through. The water, unable to find its way into most of the buildings, washed down the stone and brick walls and out into the street, where it collected and headed back out to sea. Some unlucky cars found themselves swept away along with anything else the water could find to carry.

The howling winds did their part as well. They drove the falling rain and ocean water mix sideways, making each water drop feel like a little knife trying to cut into anyone foolish enough to be outside. It spread the foam as far as it could inland, blanketing cars, buildings, and anything else left in its way. The fierce winds brought down trees and power poles, knocking the power out for most of the surrounding areas. It ripped shingles off roofs and put broken tree limbs through the windshields of cars and unprotected windows of houses. The howls of the wind made the people inside the buildings cringe and fear the worst may be coming for them. Thunder rumbled. It cracked and boomed, making the covered windows shake. Lightning zipped across the gray sky. It struck a palm tree, sending sparks and burnt wood everywhere. The fire from the tree did not spread far before the rain extinguished it.

The storm raged out of control, one of the worst ones the people of West Palm Beach had seen in a long time.

Nurses and maintenance people rushed about the small army hospital trying to keep the generators running and the lights on. Some patients had to be moved out into the hallways with the doors to their rooms closed. Shattered glass lay in the floor of a few room where debris from the storm shattered them. The rain and wind poured through the newly created openings. Maintenance men moved sheets of thick plywood into the rooms with busted windows. When they opened the doors to get into the rooms, the wind gusted through, making it hard for the nurses to close the doors behind them.

In the nursery of the hospital, a young woman screamed in pain as she brought her first child into the world. The lights in the room flickered as the power strained to stay on in the storm. Her husband stood beside her, holding her hand. He wore a blue medical gown over his fatigues.

You’re doing fine, honey, he told her.

All right, Mrs. Roundtree, give me one more strong push, the doctor told her.

She pushed as hard as she could for what felt like forever. She let out a cry until she heard a baby’s cry fill the room. The doctor let out a laugh and brought up a baby. Miss Roundtree lay back for a moment, her husband wiping the sweat off her face with a white towel and kissing her forehead. She tried to catch her breath as the doctor brought the baby to her wrapped in a pink blanket.

Congratulations, Mrs. Roundtree. You have a beautiful baby girl, he said as he handed the newborn baby to her. Just then, the lights went completely out, leaving the room totally black.

Everybody, just stay where you are. The backup lights will come on in just a moment, the doctor told everybody. The baby in the doctor’s arms cried and then stopped for a moment before crying again.

Is my baby all right? she asked.

Your baby’s fine. She’s just taking a deep breath to cry some more, the doctor told her.

One of the nurses screamed in the darkness of the room, and a tray of medical tools crashed across the floor, making a loud racket.

What is it? the doctor called out.

Something touched my leg, she said.

Just then, the backup lights came on. The nurse who screamed looked around but did not see anything near her that could have touched her. Another nurse came and helped the other pick up the tray of medical tool that she dropped all over the floor.

Here’s your baby girl, the doctor said, handing Mrs. Roundtree her baby.

She cried as she held her baby girl in her arms for the first time. The little baby opened her eyes and looked at her mother sleepily.

She’s beautiful, honey, her husband said. He wiped the tears out of his own eyes as he looked down at his daughter.

What are you going to name her? one of the nurses asked.

Her name is going to be Gwendolyn Marion Roundtree, she said.

That’s a lovely name, the nurse told her. She wrote the name down on the chart that she held in her hand.

Well, let me get her cleaned up, and we’ll get the two of you moved to your room, another nurse said. Gwendolyn’s mother let the nurse take her. Her husband took her hand and kissed her.

We’ve got a baby girl, he told her. He tried his best to hold back his happiness, but tears still filled his eyes. His wife smiled at him and wiped the tears from his face.

You know, if the dad starts crying when a baby’s born, he has to buy the nurses a box of doughnuts, one of the nurses whispered to him. He smiled at her and laughed a little.

A nurse laid Gwendolyn in a small sink and turned the water on to wash the newness off her. When she wiped her left arm off, she noticed three black lines on the baby’s wrist.

Doctor, can you look at this? the nurse with Gwendolyn asked.

What is it? the doctor asked. He walked over to the nurse. She took her out of the sink and wrapped a towel around her to dry her off. The baby cried every moment of her first bath. The nurse showed the doctor the baby’s left arm after she laid the baby on the changing table.

What’s the matter? Is there something wrong with my baby? Mrs. Roundtree asked. Her voice sounded panicked.

Oh, it’s nothing, the doctor said after a moment. Your daughter has a birthmark on her left wrist is all. It’s nothing to worry about.

I’m sorry, the nurse said. I’ve just never seen one quite like it before.

A birthmark? Gwendolyn’s mother asked.

It’s just something that happens sometimes, the doctor told her. Those three little black lines on her wrist are just a birthmark.

Are you sure?

I’ve seen them a thousand times. They can appear anywhere on the body of a baby, and they are just there. They pose no harm to the child in any way, the doctor reassured her.

Dr. Haven, you’re needed in surgery immediately, a nurse said, coming in the room. She had blood patches on her white clothes.

I’ll leave the two of you in the wonderful care of these nurses, and I’ll check in on you two latter, he told Mrs. Roundtree and then hurried out of the room.

The storm raged for a while longer outside the hospital, but the lights inside no longer flickered. Gwendolyn and her parents slept soundly in their room until the storm had passed completely. The nurse had left a large flashlight next to her bed in case the lights did go out again. If they did, the three of them slept right through it.

The next morning, when Gwendolyn’s mother opened her eyes, she found an elderly man standing there next to her bed holding her daughter. His short stature made him look like he sat next to her rather than stood next to her. He wore blue jeans and an old light-blue shirt that looked like it had seen better days. His short gray hair had a bald spot in the back. He hummed as he rocked her in his arms.

Dad? she whispered.

I couldn’t stay away when I heard that I had a granddaughter, he told her with a smile. She’s beautiful.

Where’ve you been? she asked him.

I’ve been gone too long, I know. I’ve traveled all the way around the world to be here as soon as I heard. If it weren’t for the storm yesterday, I’d been here sooner, he told her.

What’ve you been doing all these years, Dad? she asked him. She sat up in bed.

You’d think me mad if I told you, he told her.

I thought you were dead after all these years. That’s what I thought, she told him. She took a tissue from the box next to the bed and wiped her eyes.

Oh, baby girl, don’t cry. I found the key to the place I’ve spent so long looking for, he told her.

You never even wrote a single letter to me all this time. You could’ve at least let me know that you were alive somewhere out there, she cried.

I had to find out what really happened to your mother, he explained.

Did you? Did you learn that I lost both of you in your search? she asked him. She wiped her eyes again.

I’m sorry, baby girl, but I’ve found where your mother went all those years ago.

What’re you talking about, Dad? she asked him.

When she left for the archeology site in Africa, they said she just vanished one night. They told us a lion had killed her, but they were never able to recover the body, he said.

I remember. What does that have to do with you leaving me as well?

I followed every clue that I could. She didn’t die in Africa. She’s still alive, and I know where and who has her, he explained.

Mom’s still alive?

Yes, and when I leave here, I am going to go get her and bring her home again.

Where is she, Dad?

She was taken by some crazy woman. A young man in Africa said that he saw her taken. The woman that took her wanted something she found at the dig site, but your mother didn’t have it. She already sent it to a man who worked for the Egyptian Museum in Cairo.

Have you told the police about this?

It’s not that easy, he told her.

Why isn’t it?

Look. I’ve only a little time to stay, but you’ll see I’m not crazy when I bring your mother back to us, he told her.

Are you in trouble, Dad?

It’s nothing for you to worry about, he told her. He smiled at his granddaughter for a moment. She’s so beautiful.

Yes, she is, she told him.

I’ve brought that for my daughter. He pointed toward the table next to her bed. My dear Sara, I’ve truly missed you so much.

She looked where he pointed and saw a little wooden box with strange carvings all over it. She picked the box up off the table to take a better look at it. The smell of the red-and-white-colored wood let her know it was carved from cedar. Her dad sat down on the edge of the bed next to her with his granddaughter in his hands.

Where’s Patrick? she asked.

He’s gone to get us some coffee, he told her. I need to tell you something that—

Suddenly a loud crash from the hallway echoed throughout the floor of the hospital. The two of them could hear nurses and doctors rushing to see what had happened. Sara sat the box back down on the table. Her father handed Gwendolyn back to her and went to the doorway to see what the commotion was all about. He looked out into the hallway and quickly stepped back into the room, closing the door. He stood with his back to the wall.

They’ve found me, he whispered to himself.

What’s going on, Dad? Sara asked.

I’ll explain later, he told her as he came back over to her bed. He gave her a kiss on the forehead and took one last look at Gwendolyn. I never meant to hurt you or leave you for so long, but things never did work out the way I wanted them to. The time grew ever so short for us. Know this, I never stopped loving you. You were the strength to keep looking for your mother, he told her before heading back toward the door of the room.

Dad, wait. Don’t leave me again, she cried.

I have to, Sara. To keep them away, he said. If they find out about you and the baby, they’ll use it against me and your mother to get what that crazy lady wants, and I can’t let them do that. He slowly opened the door and headed to the right when he stepped out into the hall.

Sir, you can’t be on this floor, Sara heard a nurse tell someone. Just then, two dark-skinned men walked past the door. One stopped and looked in the room for a moment. Sara pulled Gwendolyn close to her chest as the man walked in. She could see what looked like purple tattoos on his face under his broad black cowboy-looking hat. His thin-framed body hid beneath the black clothes he wore. Over everything, he wore a long black duster jacket.

Security is needed in the maternity ward, Sara heard a woman’s voice over the intercom say.

What do you want? Sara cried out. He said nothing as he pulled a curved shaped blade from somewhere in his jacket and reached toward her.

Suddenly the man spun around as Patrick grabbed hold of his shoulder. With a shove, the man sent Patrick stumbling across the room and tumbling over the cushioned chair where he had rested the night before. The small coffee holder with the three coffee cups on it splashed, making a huge mess when they hit the floor. The man turned back toward Sara and her baby. Sara screamed. Patrick got to his feet. He pushed the chair out of his way and rushed at the man. This time, he knocked him to the floor. The stranger’s hat came off, and his shiny long black hair fell around his shoulders. His ears came to a point at the top. The purple tattoos covered his face from his forehead to his chin. His eyes had a reddish-green look about them. The stranger and Patrick both rolled around on the floor, fighting for control of the knife the man held.

The man got his hand free for a moment and pulled the knife hard across Patrick’s right arm. It cut through his fatigues and deep into his arm, spilling blood all over the floor. Patrick gritted his teeth and punched the man across his jaw, knocking him over onto his back. He rolled out of the way as the man swung the knife, trying to stab him in the chest. It cut a deep gouge in the floor. Getting back on his feet, Patrick kicked the knife out of the man’s hand and sent it sliding under the bed.

The man jumped back to his feet as two other men dressed in white hospital clothes came into the room. He shoved Patrick against the wall and forced his way past the other two men, knocking them to the floor. He jetted out the door of the hospital room and vanished from sight down the hall. Patrick got up off the floor holding the back of his head. He rushed over to his wife’s side. She cried as he held her.

It’s all right, I got you, he told her with his arms wrapped around her and the baby.

You’re hurt, she cried when she saw Patrick’s arm.

Is everyone all right in here? a military policeman said, hastily entering the room.

We need a doctor. My husband’s been hurt, Sara told the officer.

We need a doctor to room 112 now, the police officer shouted down the hallway.

Come on, Joe, they went this way, another policeman shouted from somewhere down the hall. Joe stepped out of the room and ran down the hall in the same direction that Sara’s father ran. Dr. Haven and two nurses rushed into the room. He looked at Patrick’s arm after the two nurses helped him take his BDU top off.

What’s going on? Sara asked.

I don’t know. Two crazy-looking men came in and started knocking people around. Then they headed this way, the doctor told her.

One of them came in here, she told him.

Honey, it’s going to be fine, her husband told her. He smiled at her, and she could not help but smile back. His smile always had that effect on her.

It’s deep, but nothing that some stiches won’t fix, the doctor told him.

Thank God, she said.

We’re going to need to take him to the ER so that we can get this taken care of, he told Sara.

You can’t just patch me up here, Doc? Patrick asked.

Harry, the doctor shouted at a man hurrying past the room. The large man stopped and came in to see what Dr. Haven wanted.

Yes, Dr. Haven?

This is a good friend of mine. He works here in the hospital, and he’s going to stay with you until I can get your husband back up here.

My name’s Harry, ma’am, the man in white hospital scrubs said. His light-brown hair was cut just like her husband’s, short on the sides and a little longer on the top. He held his hand out to her, but she did not shake it.

It’ll be okay. I’ll be back in a flash, Patrick told her.

Come on, sir. We need to get this treated, he said. He helped him into a wheelchair that one of the nurse brought into the room.

Hey, honey, I thought you’d be the only one to get to ride around in one of these chairs, he told her. They pushed him toward the door. He held the bandage they put over his arm. She could see the blood oozing through the white cloth. She smiled as she wiped the tears out of her eyes. Harry stood the chair back up and pulled it over toward the foot of the bed so he could watch the doorway. He got up when he saw her shifting around the bed. She could not reach the control for the bed. It lay in the floor where it had fallen.

Here, I’ll get that for you, he said, getting out of the chair.

Thank you, she said. He helped her adjust the bed so that she would be more comfortable with the baby before he sat back in the chair.

Wasn’t there another man in here today? Harry asked her. He kept an eye on the doorway. People rushed by, but after a few minutes, it seemed to calm back down. Everything went back to the way it was before the two men came into the hospital.

My father came to see his granddaughter, Sara told him.

Where’s he at? he asked her, looking around the room.

I don’t know. He left right before that man came in here, she told him.

I’m sure he’s fine, he told her.

I hope so. This is the first time I’ve seen him since I was twelve, she told him.

Is this your first baby?

Yes, this is my Gwendolyn, Sara said, looking down at her baby in her arms.

I’ve got two. A boy nine and a girl three, he told her.

What’s their names? she asked.

Steven is my son, and Cierra is my daughter. They are a handful sometimes, he said with a laugh.

Does your wife work here?

No, she passed away giving birth to our daughter, he told her. He looked down at his hands for a moment and rubbed them together.

I’m so sorry, Sara told him.

It’s all right. There was a complication during delivery. They saved our little girl, but she started bleeding, and there was nothing they could do to stop it, he told her. I named our daughter after her. She has her eyes and my stubbornness. He grinned for a moment.

They sound like wonderful kids, she told him.

Would you like to see a picture of them? he asked her.

Sure, she said.

He pulled out his wallet from his back pocket and opened it up. He took out two small laminated pictures and handed them to her. That’s Steven, and that’s Cierra. He pointed to each one of them. The other picture is my wife.

They’re lovely, she said, handing them back.

Yeah. Steven wants to be a race-car mechanic for the Indy 500, he said with a chuckle. He put the pictures back in his wallet. Cierra, on the other hand, likes to drive her brother crazy.

Sara laughed. Where are they now?

They’re at my parents in Northern Florida. I sent them up there when they first reported the storm coming, he told her.

I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need to get the things left in here, a young MP soldier said from the doorway. He had gloves on his hands and held two brown paper bags. If you’re feeling up to it later, my CO would like to ask you some questions about what happened here.

I’d like to wait until my husband comes back, if that’s all right?

Yes, ma’am, the soldier said, coming in the room. He picked the hat up and placed it into one of the brown paper bags.

You’re a bit young to be in the army, aren’t you? Sara asked.

I turned eighteen in basic, ma’am. I joined right out of high school, he told her. I come from a long line of soldiers on my dad’s side of the family.

He must be very proud of you, she said.

He is, he told her with a boyish smile.

What’s your name? she asked him.

Harold Wantons, ma’am.

That’s a nice name, she told him.

Was there anything else that the man that came in here left behind?

He had a knife that he attacked my husband with, but I don’t know where it went, she told him. She looked around her bed for a moment but did not see it.

I think I see it there under the bed, Harry said, pointing at it.

That’s the weirdest knife I’ve ever seen, Harold said, kneeling down to retrieve it. He looked at the white ivory handle and curved blade when Sara noticed some strange markings etched into the handle and the blade. She looked away when she saw the blood on the blade of it.

Hey, Harold, let’s get on with it, Harry said. He motioned his eyes toward Sara, and Harold quickly put the knife into another brown bag when he realized what Harry was trying to tell him.

I’m sorry about that, he said, feeling embarrassed.

I leave for just a minute, and you have more protection then the president, Patrick said, standing in the doorway of the room. His bandaged arm lay in a sling.

They’re keeping me company. Sara smiled.

I’ll let my CO know your husband is back, Harold said as he rolled the tops of the two bags closed and left the room.

Thank you, Harold, Sara said as the young soldier left. He just nodded toward her without saying a word.

See, I told you I would be right back, Patrick told her. He sat back on the edge of the bed next to her.

I’ll leave the two of you alone, Harry said, getting up out of the chair.

Thank you, Harry, Sara told him as he left.

Not a problem. If the two of you need anything, I’ll be just down the hall at the nurse’s station, he told them and walked out.

How are you holding up? her husband asked her.

I’ll survive, she told him with a smile. Did they find my father?

I don’t know, he told her.

There came a knock on the door of the room, and they both looked up and saw an older man standing there in a grayish blue suit. Behind him stood a young woman in uniform with a few brown paper bags in her white-glove-covered hands.

My name is Detective Mathew Hans, and this is Officer Michael, the man said. We’re going to have the two of you moved to another room so that this room can be processed, he told them.

One of your soldiers already came in here and gathered up the things that man left behind, Sara told him.

Who? the detective asked.

He said his name was Harold Wantons, Sara told him.

Find him, he told the officer standing behind him. She quickly walked away. Patrick put all their stuff in a bag, including the small wooden box her father had left behind.

Two nurses came in with a wheelchair and helped Sara into it. When they pushed her out in the hall, she saw the mess that the other hospital employees still cleaned up. Two MP soldiers stood outside their room. The detective led them down to the end of the hall to another room.

After what felt like hours of answering questions about what happened, the detective left the two of them alone. Two more soldiers stood outside the door of their new room. The detective told them they were there for their protection. Sara gave him a description of the soldier who took the hat and knife. She also told him what she could remember of the man who attacked them. When she told him of the tattoos on his face and the engravings on the knife, he seemed almost like he didn’t believe her.

Are you sure that’s what he looked like? he asked her more than once. The only thing that she did not tell them about was the box that her father had left for her daughter or the things that he said to her about him finding her mother still alive. She had it hidden away in her bag of stuff. She did not even tell her husband about it.

I don’t trust him, Sara said once the detective was gone.

What’re you talking about? He’s just doing his job, he told her.

He didn’t believe half of what we told him. I know from the look on his face he thinks my father had something to do with this, she said.

Gwendolyn started crying. She held a bottle to her mouth, and she sucked on the nipple.

He might have Sara, Patrick told her, keeping his voice down.

You too? she asked. She watched her little girl eat.

I’m not saying he did, but you haven’t seen him in years, and the day he shows back up, this happens, he told her. Did he say anything to you?

He said he found out that my mother was still alive and that some crazy old woman had taken her when she was in Africa. She had found something she wanted at the dig site my mother oversaw, but she sent it away before they got to her, she told him.

Did he say what she found?

No, he didn’t. When I was little, my father believed that my mom found something that came from another place. Something not of our world. When she vanished, he was even more certain of it, she told him. I spent most of my time with my aunt in Washington. Dad never came around that much, and when he did, it wasn’t for very long. I lost all track of him when I turned nineteen and figured he did not care any more to come back. Even worse, after a while, I thought he had died out there somewhere alone, and it tore me up to the point that the only way I could move on was not to think of him at all anymore. My mom’s disappearance tore my family apart.

Did they ever find her?

No. They said she died from a lion attack in Africa, but they never found her body, and many of her belongings were missing as well, she said.

Why haven’t you ever said anything about it before? he asked her. He sat on the bed next to her and ran his fingers over his daughter’s head. Her brown fuzzy hair was soft under his fingers.

I never thought about it before, and there was no reason to tell a story I spent most of my life trying to forget, she told him.

It feels like you’re about to tell me that something has changed your belief, he told her.

The young soldier that came and got the knife. He held it up, and I got a good look at the blade on it. The markings on that knife, I’ve seen them before. They’re on a jewelry box that my mother gave me when I turned twelve, she said.

The one on the dresser at home?

Yes. She said it came from a small place in Africa. I just always thought they were nothing more than fancy markings. They were just something pretty to be on a girl’s jewelry box.

Why didn’t you tell the detective that?

Do you know how crazy it all sounds? I don’t even know if I believe it wholeheartedly myself, she complained.

I see your point.

My dad has gotten into something, and I don’t want it to get out where we have to always look over our shoulder, she told him.

Sara, someone attacked us. I can say with some certainty that it’s already out there for others to know, he told her.

I’m not going to live looking over my shoulder the rest of my life, she snapped.

No, just with our heads buried in the sand, he told her.

Then you go tell him and see if you can make him believe you. See if we’re not branded crazies, and they think we had something to do with this, she argued. They’ll think my dad is crazy and that I must be suffering from postpartum, and everything I thought I saw was never really there to begin with. I don’t want Gwendolyn growing up thinking her whole family is nuts, she said.

All right, he finally agreed.

For the first time in my life, I truly hope I never see my father again, she told him. Patrick wrapped his arms around her and his baby girl and held them both.

2

Are we going to Florida this summer? Gwendolyn asked her mom. She stood at the sink helping her mom wash the dishes. She had her long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail that went halfway down her back. She wore her favorite jeans and a brown T-shirt with a white apron on. Her mom wore what she called her housecleaning dress. The lime-green dress Gwendolyn thought looked horrible. Her mom wore it when the house needed cleaning. She told her if anything happened to it, she would not have lost anything she liked.

No, I thought we would stay here and do things around the house. Besides, your birthday is coming up in a couple of weeks, and school ends Friday, she told her as she handed Gwendolyn a plate to dry and put away.

Why’d we have to move so far from civilization? she asked her mom.

Your father’s family’s from Tennessee, and his father made the arrangements for us to buy this place from the woman that owned it, her mother said. She laughed for a moment and then went back to washing dishes. Gwendolyn put the plates in the brown oak cabinet above the sink after she dried them.

What’s so funny?

Oh, I was just thinking. The woman that we bought this place from wanted to move out to Florida and retire, she told her.

I wish we would go back to Florida, Gwendolyn told her.

You were only six the last time we were there, she told her.

I know, but I remember being on the beach and you standing there looking out at the ocean like you knew what was on the other side of it, she told her.

Your father was what was on the other side of it, she told her. She stopped washing the last dish and looked over at her daughter. He was gone off to someplace for almost a year that time. I took you to Florida to show you where you were born and the first house we lived in.

I don’t remember that part of it. I just remember that day on the beach and how happy you looked.

"I remember how mad you got when the tide came in and washed your castle