Peter--The World by William O'Brien

Author:William O'Brien
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: time travel adventure, sorcery sword fantasy exploration, adventure magic wizard, dark dragon ghost vampire, coming of age, elf metaphysical preteen, childrens short story collections
Publisher: William O'Brien
Published: 2016-01-12T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter II

The Surprise

Peter noticed the sign in the window was turned to Open as his mother pushed the heavy door and they entered the shop. Passing a large stuffed brown bear that was not looking the slightest bit happy, they progressed toward the back of the building. Mrs Kipple was sitting in a rocking chair, staring out of the back window at a fresh blanket of snow which had dropped into her backyard.

“Good morning,” said Mrs Kipple as she rocked backward and forward in front of a blazing coal fire.

“Hello, Mrs Kipple. It’s a bit chilly out there today,” replied Peter's mother, rubbing her hands together.

“Cold enough for penguins! Come and get some warmth from the fire; you'll catch your death,” she said with great concern.

“How’s my birthday boy? You look much taller than yesterday.”

“Oh, I am fine. However, it is very cold,” he said, looking at her with wide eyes. “I think you are quite right regarding my height. I must be taller today, as my birthday makes me older.”

A small robin landed on the window ledge, standing high with its red breast forward and tilting its head side to side.

“There’s my little robin. Hello, robin. Would you like some bread?” asked Mrs Kipple.

Suddenly a black cat pounced on the window ledge, frightening the small bird away. “Tricky, Tricky! How many times have I told you? Leave my robin alone!” she muttered as she unbolted the back door.

The door opened and the cat ran in, pushing itself against her leg with a loud purring sound. The cat showed even more affection as Mrs Kipple placed a saucer of milk down on the floor.

“Well, I don’t know what is wrong. Is it cold outside?”

Peter never understood why Mrs Kipple spoke to things that couldn’t reply, but he was sure elderly people did this on a regular basis. Mrs Kipple continued her conversation with the cat as Peter wandered into an obscure room at the side of the staircase, where shadows pervaded the darkened spaces. Peter hadn’t noticed the room before, but it looked like a kind of storeroom. Pots of paint, tools, and waxes huddled between a group of dirty rags dressing the floor. A grimy table with three legs was propped up against the side wall; a roll of green baize was thrown across the top. Many items awaited repair, including a rather large, ornate clock that caught his eye. The clock was as big as his uncle Richard, who had to be careful when entering a room – he was as tall as any door. Carvings of pond-like things adorned the sides: frogs, dragonflies, lily pads, and lilies swirled around everywhere. They were just like the ones on his key.

Mrs Kipple appeared behind Peter in the doorway.

“I see you have found my key,” she said, noticing Peter clutching the copperware in his hand. “Wonderful, it was to be discovered by a boy of your description. The key that you hold will allow your journey to begin. Although it may not be as simple as you think.

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