Deep beneath the floors of every library is a secret few people know; here, in this unknown place of the library, are the books that pull the reader into another world, and show him what events inspired a writer to create a famous book.
Thomas Weaver, a boy just trying to write a report about the gold rush, has discovered the secret, and his life is forever changed. Thomas goes back to California, 1865 to discover the West that Mark Twain knew.
Thomas thought he would go back in time, talk to Twain, and then return to the real world. He quickly learns, however, that the book has other plans. He cannot return to the real world until he has experienced the West.
Along with his adventurous cousin, Will, Thomas sees firsthand a bank robbery, learns how to pan for gold, talks to drifters who left everything because they hoped to strike it rich, narrowly escapes death twice, and ultimately learns that there is more to the California Gold Rush than just gold.
Buy a Digital Copy
Thomas Weaver, a boy just trying to write a report about the gold rush, has discovered the secret, and his life is forever changed. Thomas goes back to California, 1865 to discover the West that Mark Twain knew.
Thomas thought he would go back in time, talk to Twain, and then return to the real world. He quickly learns, however, that the book has other plans. He cannot return to the real world until he has experienced the West.
Along with his adventurous cousin, Will, Thomas sees firsthand a bank robbery, learns how to pan for gold, talks to drifters who left everything because they hoped to strike it rich, narrowly escapes death twice, and ultimately learns that there is more to the California Gold Rush than just gold.
Buy a Digital Copy
Excerpt
Chapter One The Gateway to Knowledge
Thomas Weaver starred blankly at the clock behind the librarian’s desk. It was 5:30, thirty minutes before his mom would pick him up, and he still had not wrote a single sentence of his sixth grade Gold Rush report paper, which was due the next day.
Thomas hated school. He hated the teachers, and the reports they made him write; he hated the kids that picked on him for being a little overweight; he even hated the smell of his textbook.
His fifth grade teacher, Mr. Nelson, told him he’d like this part of history because it had lots of adventure, and people making money; he had found nothing interesting about it in all the books the librarian helped him find at the library. Even the pictures were boring.
Soon Thomas got tired of starring at the clock and began wandering around the library. He walked in and out of the aisles of books pretending to be looking for a book. He did this for nearly ten minutes when his eyes suddenly caught sight of a book that’s title read, “Don’t read me.” Thomas was of course immediately interested in this book, and pulled it from the shelf.
When he removed the book, the entire shelf began to shake and the entire column of books in front of him slowly moved forward, and then slid to the side revealing a stairway. Thomas nervously looked around. Nobody had noticed what had happened.
Thomas cautiously looked into the passageway, and with the book still in his hand he slowly moved inside. The stairway was dark; torches hung from the walls dimly lighting the passage. He carefully stepped down two steps, and then turned to make sure the door was still open. The stairs were made of wood and made creaking noises as he stepped on them.
He stepped down six more steps, and became more confident with each step. He heard a rumble behind him, and quickly turned just in time to see the bookcase close.
Thomas ran back up the steps, and tried to open the bookcase back up, but he could not do so. He starred back down the staircase nervously. He knew the only way out would be to travel down the stairs and look for another exit.
He went down the steps anxiously, and almost tripped more than once. After nearly one hundred steps he reached the bottom, and was completely out of breath.
It was dark and seemed empty. “Hello?” Thomas said quietly, and then a little louder, “Is anyone in here?”
Suddenly lights went on from the floor, and the room was bright. “Keep your voice down,” A loud voice said, “You’re in a library, for Pete’s sake.”
Thomas looked all around the room for where the voice came from. He saw nothing except the lights on the ground. “Where are you?” Thomas nervously asked.
“I’m down here.”
Thomas looked down again at the lights but saw nothing.
“Stop being silly.” The voice said, “You’re looking up—I’m down here.”
Thomas looked up and saw starring down at him a large four-eyed frog standing on top of a large oak desk similar to the one the librarian upstairs sat behind. “You’re a frog.”
“I am.”
“And you’re talking.”
“You’re a clever one—would you also like to point out that I have four eyes?”
Thomas shrugged, and asked, “Why are you upside down?”
“I’m not—you are.”
“I…” Thomas started to say, but suddenly he fell upward and landed in front of the desk. He started to stand, but got dizzy and fell back down.
“Just give it a second—you need to get used to being in another dimension.”
“Another dimension?”
The frog nodded. “You’ve entered the gateway of knowledge. This is the place where ideas are stored. My names Fox, and I’m the librarian.”
“Oh I get it.” Thomas said, “This is a dream—I fell asleep in the library, so naturally I’m dreaming about the library. I just need to lie down and close my eyes, and then I’ll wake up.”
“Why do they always do this?” Fox asked looking up at the ceiling. He looked at Thomas who had tightly closed his eyes, “Go ahead Thomas, pinch yourself. If this is a dream then it won’t hurt.”
Thomas did so and let out a yelp. He opened his eyes, and looked at Fox oddly, “How’d you know my name?”
“I know everything—I’m a librarian. Now why don’t you try and stand back up. You should be used to the atmosphere by now.”
Thomas slowly stood up, and then looked at Fox amazed, “This really isn’t a dream is it?”
Fox sighed. “I thought we already figured that part out—no it’s not a dream.”
Thomas looked behind the desk and saw for the first time rows of books that went as far as he could see. It did not look like a normal library. The books in this library floated—one on top of the other—stacked neatly in aisles. There were millions of them. Each book looked like a bright florescent hologram.
“This place is cool.”
Fox nodded. “We try to keep the air conditioning up real high—librarians do better in cool places.”
Thomas looked at him oddly, but said nothing.
“Now,” Fox said, “As I was saying before you decided you’d try and take a nap, this is the place where ideas are born. Every person who writes a book has a reason for writing it—all of their ideas come from somewhere. This is where those ideas are stored.”
“Those?” Thomas said looking at the floating books, “They look more like books than ideas.”
“Got to store an ideas somehow—why not a book?”
Thomas shrugged.
“The only humans that are supposed to know about this place are librarians, but I suppose now that you’ve found it, then you might as well make the best of it.” He paused and then said, “I believe you were in the library looking for books on the gold rush.”
“How’d you know that?”
“Like I said, I’m a librarian—I know everything…well almost everything.”
“Oh.”
“How would you like to see the gold rush first hand?”
“First hand?”
“Stop answering my questions with other questions—a simple yes or no answer, please.”
“Sure I guess.”
“Yes or no?”
“Yes.” Thomas nervously said.
“Very well.” Fox hopped off the desk, and went towards the books. “Ever heard of Mark Twain?”
“In school I think.” Thomas replied slowly following from behind.
“He’s full of ideas about the gold rush—spent a lot of time in California during it. How’d you like to meet him?”
“Okay.”
Fox hopped past hundreds of books then suddenly stopped. “Get that one for me.” He said looking at several books with nothing written on the spine.
Thomas reached for one and began to take it.
“Not that one!” Fox yelled. “The one just to the right of it.”
Thomas put his finger on the spine of the book and asked, “This one?”
“That’s right—now open it.”
He slowly opened the page, and lights flew from the book. The room became so bright that he couldn’t even make anything out. He didn’t know why, but he yelled for help, which did nothing.
“Just hold on to that book!” Fox commanded.
Thomas felt himself spinning out of control, and then falling downward. He felt like he was being sucked through a straw, and his whole body felt like it were being tightly squeezed. He thought he would die for sure.
Thomas Weaver starred blankly at the clock behind the librarian’s desk. It was 5:30, thirty minutes before his mom would pick him up, and he still had not wrote a single sentence of his sixth grade Gold Rush report paper, which was due the next day.
Thomas hated school. He hated the teachers, and the reports they made him write; he hated the kids that picked on him for being a little overweight; he even hated the smell of his textbook.
His fifth grade teacher, Mr. Nelson, told him he’d like this part of history because it had lots of adventure, and people making money; he had found nothing interesting about it in all the books the librarian helped him find at the library. Even the pictures were boring.
Soon Thomas got tired of starring at the clock and began wandering around the library. He walked in and out of the aisles of books pretending to be looking for a book. He did this for nearly ten minutes when his eyes suddenly caught sight of a book that’s title read, “Don’t read me.” Thomas was of course immediately interested in this book, and pulled it from the shelf.
When he removed the book, the entire shelf began to shake and the entire column of books in front of him slowly moved forward, and then slid to the side revealing a stairway. Thomas nervously looked around. Nobody had noticed what had happened.
Thomas cautiously looked into the passageway, and with the book still in his hand he slowly moved inside. The stairway was dark; torches hung from the walls dimly lighting the passage. He carefully stepped down two steps, and then turned to make sure the door was still open. The stairs were made of wood and made creaking noises as he stepped on them.
He stepped down six more steps, and became more confident with each step. He heard a rumble behind him, and quickly turned just in time to see the bookcase close.
Thomas ran back up the steps, and tried to open the bookcase back up, but he could not do so. He starred back down the staircase nervously. He knew the only way out would be to travel down the stairs and look for another exit.
He went down the steps anxiously, and almost tripped more than once. After nearly one hundred steps he reached the bottom, and was completely out of breath.
It was dark and seemed empty. “Hello?” Thomas said quietly, and then a little louder, “Is anyone in here?”
Suddenly lights went on from the floor, and the room was bright. “Keep your voice down,” A loud voice said, “You’re in a library, for Pete’s sake.”
Thomas looked all around the room for where the voice came from. He saw nothing except the lights on the ground. “Where are you?” Thomas nervously asked.
“I’m down here.”
Thomas looked down again at the lights but saw nothing.
“Stop being silly.” The voice said, “You’re looking up—I’m down here.”
Thomas looked up and saw starring down at him a large four-eyed frog standing on top of a large oak desk similar to the one the librarian upstairs sat behind. “You’re a frog.”
“I am.”
“And you’re talking.”
“You’re a clever one—would you also like to point out that I have four eyes?”
Thomas shrugged, and asked, “Why are you upside down?”
“I’m not—you are.”
“I…” Thomas started to say, but suddenly he fell upward and landed in front of the desk. He started to stand, but got dizzy and fell back down.
“Just give it a second—you need to get used to being in another dimension.”
“Another dimension?”
The frog nodded. “You’ve entered the gateway of knowledge. This is the place where ideas are stored. My names Fox, and I’m the librarian.”
“Oh I get it.” Thomas said, “This is a dream—I fell asleep in the library, so naturally I’m dreaming about the library. I just need to lie down and close my eyes, and then I’ll wake up.”
“Why do they always do this?” Fox asked looking up at the ceiling. He looked at Thomas who had tightly closed his eyes, “Go ahead Thomas, pinch yourself. If this is a dream then it won’t hurt.”
Thomas did so and let out a yelp. He opened his eyes, and looked at Fox oddly, “How’d you know my name?”
“I know everything—I’m a librarian. Now why don’t you try and stand back up. You should be used to the atmosphere by now.”
Thomas slowly stood up, and then looked at Fox amazed, “This really isn’t a dream is it?”
Fox sighed. “I thought we already figured that part out—no it’s not a dream.”
Thomas looked behind the desk and saw for the first time rows of books that went as far as he could see. It did not look like a normal library. The books in this library floated—one on top of the other—stacked neatly in aisles. There were millions of them. Each book looked like a bright florescent hologram.
“This place is cool.”
Fox nodded. “We try to keep the air conditioning up real high—librarians do better in cool places.”
Thomas looked at him oddly, but said nothing.
“Now,” Fox said, “As I was saying before you decided you’d try and take a nap, this is the place where ideas are born. Every person who writes a book has a reason for writing it—all of their ideas come from somewhere. This is where those ideas are stored.”
“Those?” Thomas said looking at the floating books, “They look more like books than ideas.”
“Got to store an ideas somehow—why not a book?”
Thomas shrugged.
“The only humans that are supposed to know about this place are librarians, but I suppose now that you’ve found it, then you might as well make the best of it.” He paused and then said, “I believe you were in the library looking for books on the gold rush.”
“How’d you know that?”
“Like I said, I’m a librarian—I know everything…well almost everything.”
“Oh.”
“How would you like to see the gold rush first hand?”
“First hand?”
“Stop answering my questions with other questions—a simple yes or no answer, please.”
“Sure I guess.”
“Yes or no?”
“Yes.” Thomas nervously said.
“Very well.” Fox hopped off the desk, and went towards the books. “Ever heard of Mark Twain?”
“In school I think.” Thomas replied slowly following from behind.
“He’s full of ideas about the gold rush—spent a lot of time in California during it. How’d you like to meet him?”
“Okay.”
Fox hopped past hundreds of books then suddenly stopped. “Get that one for me.” He said looking at several books with nothing written on the spine.
Thomas reached for one and began to take it.
“Not that one!” Fox yelled. “The one just to the right of it.”
Thomas put his finger on the spine of the book and asked, “This one?”
“That’s right—now open it.”
He slowly opened the page, and lights flew from the book. The room became so bright that he couldn’t even make anything out. He didn’t know why, but he yelled for help, which did nothing.
“Just hold on to that book!” Fox commanded.
Thomas felt himself spinning out of control, and then falling downward. He felt like he was being sucked through a straw, and his whole body felt like it were being tightly squeezed. He thought he would die for sure.