Unable to sleep, Jacob arose at the crack of dawn feeling more anxious than he could ever remember. He had never been away from home before and he could feel his nervous stomach starting to twinge. He decided to distract his thoughts by packing, hoping that it would take the edge off. He first began by sorting out his clothes that he wanted to take, but soon found it to be a much harder job than he had anticipated, as most of his garments were scattered across the floor. By the time he was ready to heap them into his suitcase he heard Uncle Clair’s loud voice calling him for breakfast. As he ambled downstairs for a quick bite, he thought that maybe he should look into laundering his clothes after he got there, in place of just wearing them again. At the kitchen table his stomach still felt uneasy, and only after swallowing a half-dozen spoon-fulls of scrambled eggs he called it quits. Mr. Pitts however was in a superb mood. He stepped cheerfully up to the table and sat down across from Jacob with a second helping of bacon and eggs, piled so high that chunks of his breakfast were falling off the edges of his tin plate.
“Well Jacob my boy,” said Mr. Pitts, wearing a stained wash towel tucked into the front of his shirt, “before you know it you’ll be living a life full of adventure.”
“What sort of adventures?” asked Jacob, curious as to what he could expect.
“Ruminating over frightening tales at breakfast time is not good for the digestion. So let’s just save this discussion for a latter time. Perhaps late one night, when we’re both sitting before an open campfire deep in some dark and foreboding woods, right before you go to bed.”
“Okay, I’ll take you up on that,” said Jacob, confident that he could handle any scary story that Mr. Pitts could dish out.
“We’ll plan on it then,” replied Mr. Pitts with a nod, followed by a watchful eye towards Uncle Clair, who was at the moment pouring bacon grease from the frying pan into a dungy wooden bucket. “Clair, how about I help you afterwards with the dishes?”
“No thanks, I’ve got all day to do them,” replied Uncle Clair. “Why don’t I help you hitch up your team instead?”
“Righteoo, I have never refused a helping offer to hitch up my team,” said Mr. Pitts, waving his spoon in accord. “I suppose that’s probably because I have never received such an offer before.”
With a queasy stomach Jacob excused himself and lumbered up the stairs to finish off his packing, while Mr. Pitts and Uncle Clair remained in the kitchen chatting about old times.
“I should be grateful that I don’t have to go to school anymore,” he thought, relieved to at least be rid of his terrible problem. By mid morning he had placed his last piece of clothing onto his pile in his suitcase. He closed the lid and sat on it, bouncing up and down to force the buckle shut. He next stood up and looked around the room wondering if he had forgotten anything. Satisfied that he had not, he curiously picked up his suitcase to test its weight. “Golly, this is much heavier than I expected,” he thought, “but still manageable.” With his packing now complete he leaned out the window and saw Uncle Clair loading a small pack into the back of the wagon, while Mr. Pitts was busy inspecting the horses’ harnesses. The sudden thought of leaving Uncle Clair and the farm like this felt painful, and especially since he would probably not be able to see Uncle Clair again for a long, long time. “So this is what it’s like being homesick,” he realized, it was much harder than he had ever expected. As he pondered about being alone in an unknown reality, his heart began to sink towards his belly and his stomach began to feel even worse than ever. But he couldn’t stay here and suffer on as an outcast freak, he had to go, he had no other choice. With a heavy moan followed by a long sorrowful sigh, he picked up his suitcase, lugged it out of the bedroom door, and began dragging it down over the stairs. Unhurriedly he exited the house and looked up to see Mr. Pitts standing inside the back hovel of the wagon organizing his odds and ends.
“Hand me your luggage, Jacob,” said Mr. Pitts, leaning halfway out the back doorway. “As soon as I stow it we’ll be ready to go. Isn’t this exciting?”
Despondently Jacob nodded and lifted his luggage up with both hands, passing it off to Mr. Pitts. He then turned and looked at his uncle. The not knowing when he would see him again moved him to tears, and without thinking he lunged forward and gave Uncle Clair a tight hug, feeling a rough whiskery beard rub painfully into the top of his head. Uncle Clair wrapped his arms around Jacob, and together their firm hug seemed like it would last forever. At length they finally released each other with one last closing squeeze.
Jacob stepped back and rubbed his sore head. “Please take care of Mildew for me,” he said. “And I’m really gonna miss you,” he added in a shaky voice.
“I will Jacob, and I’ll miss you too. But don’t be surprised if I come for a visit once in awhile.”
Uncle Clair then reached into his pocket and pulled out two shiny objects. With a smile he held them out in his open hand and Jacob curiously starred at a silver money clip bejeweled by a clear blue stone set in the center, and a thick square silver coin stamped in strange yellow symbols. He had never seen their likes before, and couldn’t help but wondered where his uncle had dug up such odd items.
“These are for you,” said Uncle Clair, as he reached out and took Jacob by the wrist, placing the gifts into his palm.
Jacob wrapped his fingers tight around the articles and then looked up into his uncle’s face, seeing his moist eyes gently gazing down at him. Suddenly he felt his uncle’s deep love, and struggled again to hold back his tears.
“If you’re ever in danger,” continued Uncle Clair, “or just want to see me once in a while, tap on the blue crystal on the money clip three times and think of me, and I’ll immediately come. Promise me that you’ll remember this.”
“I promise,” responded Jacob, wiping a tear from his cheek.
Mr. Pitts jumped down from the wagon and walked toward the front. “Just like Clair,” he added, “giving you a money clip with no money in it.”
They smiled and Uncle Clair continued, “Jacob this coin is an enchanted talisman that will help you through your training. I want you to keep it and the money clip with you at all times. Never, and I mean never, leave your quarters without these items. Understand?”
Jacob nodded and then carefully placed the gifts into his pocket. He then slowly turned, and followed Mr. Pitts up onto the wagon, periodically glancing back at Uncle Clair. From atop the tall seat he gazed sorrowfully out over their farm, looking first to their frail barn, then towards the cows tranquilly grazing in the field, and at last glancing back at their chickens in their pen pecking at the ground. “Golly, what’s it gonna be like not living on a farm anymore,” he moaned with a heavy heart, having spent his entire life up until now as a farmer.
Mr. Pitts released the long wooden brake handle and shook the reins. Jacob then took one last look at his uncle. The horses jostled against their harnesses drawing the wagon forward with a rolling sway and Jacob started to wave his final farewell, when suddenly the wagon tilted, violently seesawing side-to-side as if they were about to roll over. He felt himself being thrust back and forth, and in panic he reached down and grabbed a hold of the wooden seat to steady his balance, half suspecting that a wagon wheel had fallen off. But despite the brutal rocking they continued steadily down the road in the unbalanced wagon, while Mr. Pitts without showing any concern for the jarring ride, nosily blew his nose into a large white handkerchief. Watching Jacob and his uncle part seemed to have touched Mr. Pitts deeply, and teary eyed with a red face, he sobed a loud shrill wailing cry, “OOAHAAA! YOU POOR, POOR BOY!”
Startled by the sudden outburst, for a second time Jacob nearly fell off the wagon. Up until meeting Mr. Pitts he had never seen a grown man cry before.
Tears were streaming down both sides of Mr. Pitts’ cheeks, and he began to whimper in a cracking voice, “Jacooob—OOOOHAAA—you’re probably wondering—‘sniff sniff’—how we can travel through one dimension to—‘sniff, sniff’—another?”
“Yeah, ur-how does it work?” asked Jacob, fascinated by Mr. Pitts’ strange sniveling.
Mr. Pitts reached behind his seat and pulled out a polished silver metal ball. “This wagon my boy—‘sniff’—is more than just my traveling abode, she’s my pride and—‘sniff sniff’—joy. I built her all by myself. She’s beautiful isn’t she? And—‘sniff, sniff’—solid as a rock! Of course I learned all my superior building techniques from building your wonderful barn and applied those same exact—‘sniff sniff’—principals to construct this handcrafted resplendent work of art.”
Upon hearing who the wagon builder was, Jacob immediately cringed and tightened his grip on the seat, preparing for the worst. The wagon bumped up and down and Mr. Pitts brought the metal sphere in front of his nose, staring at it cross eyed while acting completely unaware that his horses had just pulled the wagon off the road. They were heading toward a nearby ravine.
“On this wonderfully constructed—‘sniff sniff’—wagon, we’ll sail smoothly from one dimension into the next. Transporting through dimensions is done with this orb, and it automatically—‘sniff, sniff’—brings with us anything we rest upon, like my magnificent wagon. Shall we give it a go?”
“Mr. Pitts, up ahead!” cried Jacob horrified, as he watched the ravine drawing closer. “Look where we’re going!”
“Ah yes of course your wondering where we’re going,” replied Mr. Pitts lightheartedly, ending his woeful blubbering by tooting his nose in his handkerchief. He began to polish his orb with the used handkerchief and continued talking, “Yes indeedee I’ve traveled the world more than a vagabond. Not only throughout this dimension’s many diverse countries, but to all dimensions of the living, and to all their various places of wonder and adventure; from the dimensions of modern conveniences, to the rustic past and on to the realms of magical enchantment; why I could tell you a story or two that would raise your eyebrows clear up over the very crown of your head. But for now we’ll just take your first travel through this world to dimension three, the dimension of the modern. There we’ll be picking up my second apprentice who is patiently waiting for us. I think your going to enjoy this. Righteoo, you’ll really be enjoying this!”
With his free hand Mr. Pitts pulled back on the reins and shouted, “WHOA—HOLD UP THERE HORSES!”
In concert with the sharp jerk of the reins, the horses stiffened their legs and dug their hoofs into the dirt, stopping only inches away from the edge of the gaping ravine. Jacob was already standing on the seat preparing to jump off the wagon. After exhaling a long sigh of relief he drew a breath and sat back down. Warily he gazed ahead, looking down into the rocky gulch that abruptly opened up in front of the horses’ hoofs.
With one eye closed and sticking the tip of his tongue out the side of his mouth, Mr. Pitts continued to stare at the orb. Expertly he began poking at the orb with his index finger, and after each touch the orb flashed back with a bright glow.
“IT’S TIME. READY, HOLD ON AND AWAY WE GO!” hollered Mr. Pitts.
Without warning the wagon began moving, but their horses remained stationary. It was unnatural like something out of a wild dream. As they accelerated faster and faster, the surrounding colors blurred together, turning everything into bluish red streaks. It felt as if they were floating in a rough river, bobbing up and down, right to left, forward and backward. Scared stiff, Jacob clung to the side of the seat with both hands, until finally they came to a stop with a quick jerk. As he began to find his bearings, he realized that the wagon had come to rest on a hard smooth black road that stretched out in front of them for miles. He stared at the long wide open road and immediately marveled at its construction, wondering how in the world a quarry could have ever cut so much thin black stone and pieced it together so perfectly smooth and long. He next noticed lush green trees surrounding them that looked similar to the trees surrounding his own farm. Off to their side rested a two story white mansion with a red tile roof. Overwhelmed by its grandeur, he stared in awe at the finest looking home he had ever seen; with fancy double front doors, a tall pillared porch, high vaulting windows, and in front a large perfectly cut oval lawn encircled by a cobblestone street that gave it a rustic majestic appearance, as if it were fit for the living quarters of a king.
Snapping the reins up and down, Mr. Pitts shouted out, “GIDDY–UP YOU HORSES!” The wagon began to roll forward and Mr. Pitts steered towards the residence by turning off the main road onto a long narrow driveway. As they drew near, Jacob saw a young golden haired girl dart out from the house, followed close by two Golden Retrievers. The excited dogs shot past her and bounded toward the wagon, barking loudly for any attention they could get. The girl seemed to be about his age, with hair down to her shoulders and freckles plastered over her face, so visibly noticeable that they reminded him of a whitewashed fence spreckled by splatters of mud.
“HELLO MR. PITTS,” she excitedly cried.
Mr. Pitts waved his arms shouting back, “HELLO EMALYNN! NICE TO SEE YOU AGAIN!”
In no time at all she reached the wagon and Mr. Pitts pulled back on the reins, bringing the wagon to a quick stop. He then with a gracefully leap jumped to the ground. Smiling back at him, Emalynn sprang forward giving him a hug while the dogs merrily pranced around them, rambunctiously wagging their tails and serenading everyone with a barking duet.
“Are you the other apprentice,” she eagerly asked, looking up at Jacob as he climbed down from off the wagon.