{"id":475,"date":"2026-04-13T23:03:58","date_gmt":"2026-04-13T23:03:58","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/jackjward.com\/?p=475"},"modified":"2026-04-13T23:03:59","modified_gmt":"2026-04-13T23:03:59","slug":"doorknobs-boomsticks","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/jackjward.com\/?p=475","title":{"rendered":"Doorknobs & Boomsticks"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"\"<\/a><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

I’ve been playing with a new YA novel, perhaps a series, if it’s of interest to anyone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Doorknobs & Boomsticks<\/strong>
A Tale of Perceptions<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Chapter 1: Red Light, Tweed Man, and a Doctor\u2019s Bag<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tink was unique.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Not in the \u201ceveryone is unique\u201d way you hear from parents and teachers. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

No. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tink, all of 12 years of age, red curls and freckles, bookish, and clever, was unique in that of all the times on this planet; of all the parallel worlds of Earth, she and only she was the \u2018Tink\u2019 that existed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

You might think that\u2019s impressive. You might think that\u2019s expected. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

You might even think that\u2019s sad.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

You definitely wouldn\u2019t think it was dangerous.
Tink didn\u2019t think about it at all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Instead, she was twisted under the sheets with a silver flashlight balanced in the crook of her neck reading her favourite book.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes!\u201d she said triumphantly and then bit her lip. While she occupied the only room in the attic, the old house\u2019s registers echoed her voice downstairs even as they blew heat up, and she didn\u2019t need her parents marching upstairs to tell her \u201cAfter ten is lights out!\u201d again. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

But, still, the diode called her name. She knew if she used it with her latest invention it would-<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her thoughts were cut short by buzzing static from the radio set on her desk. Leaping gingerly to her feet, she thrilled at the icy chill of the creaky wooden boards. Scooching on to her chair, she depressed the microphone transmit button. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTink?\u201d the voice wafted from the ether.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJack? I thought you forgot!\u201d Tink whispered harshly. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSorry\u2026 I was out late at Scouts\u2026\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy parents\u2019ll kill <\/em>me if they think I\u2019m still up.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A hesitation before Jack continued, \u201cDad and I worked on the Cub Car in the Hall. He wanted to paint it like Black Beauty<\/em>\u201d.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe horse?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGreen Hornet\u2019s car\u2026\u201d Jack West\u2019s voice was followed by a tinny sigh. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t worry about that now.\u201d Tink said. \u201cWe need to go scrounging!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jack was all business. \u201cWhat d\u2019ya need?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tink snagged the copy of The Boy\u2019s First Book of Radio and Electronics<\/em> from her bed and rifled through the pages. \u201cI need a \u2018Germanium diode\u2019\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s it look-\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Suddenly, the bedroom door wrenched open in a shriek of hinges. Standing akimbo in tight curlers and a flowing pink dressing gown, was the furious form of her mother.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Like an angry boulder picking up steam rolling down a hill, each word threatened to bowl over Tink.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTheodora. Eunice. Masterson!\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now Tink Masterson had a problem with being startled. It always seemed to render her near mute. It was like her brain was firing in all possible ways to discern the nature of a threat and what she could do. It paralyzed her throat worst of all. Try as she might she couldn\u2019t get the barest of excuses out when she was truly frightened or shocked. Tongue as thick as lead. Throat as dry as sandpaper. She stared helplessly at her mother for a moment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The curlers raised up like hackles on Mrs. Violet Masterson\u2019s head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDo you know<\/em> what time it is?!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI should be in bed.\u201d She finally croaked. As angry as moms can get, they were a \u2018known threat\u2019. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tink choked out her response in the microphone as much for Jack\u2019s benefit as her mother\u2019s and leaped from the desk back under the sheets. Her mattress wailed and she tossed the covers over her like a shroud. Only her panting under them identified that she was still wide awake. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDarn TOOTIN\u2019 you need to be in bed! You\u2019ve got school tomorrow, young lady!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her mother pointed one perfectly manicured fingernail towards the firefly glow under the blankets, and as if reading her mind, Tink clicked the flashlight off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Violet\u2019s stark frown melted. \u201cTinkerbell\u2026\u201d she began. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

With a crack, a flap of blankets folded over. Tink\u2019s face screwed up in disgust. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou know I hate<\/em> that name.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh, I know. Tinkerer<\/em>\u2026\u201d Violet chuckled and folded the blanket with military efficiency. She touched her daughter\u2019s nose playfully.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJack should be asleep too, you know.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe called me<\/em>. Late from some\u2026 Boy Scout<\/em> meeting.\u201d Tink\u2019s eyes rolled disapprovingly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Violet nodded and glided off the bed. \u201cNow-now, everyone is  different, you know.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She paused, tapped her fingers on her chin. \u201cYes, his father adores scouting\u2026\u201d She paused. \u201cIf only your own father took such an interest in the community.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDad says being a comptroller is all<\/em> the community time he can stand.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Violet smoothed her pink nightgown. Nimble steps stopped by the doorframe. She hesitated again before turning off the overhead light.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGood night\u2026my<\/em> Tinkerbell\u2026\u201d Violet twisted her lips in a private smile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hidden in the shadows, Tink\u2019s sigh connected to another eye roll. \u201cNight\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She waited until the door clicked shut and her mother\u2019s slippers shuffled down the curved stairs before pulling her arms out from the tautly tucked blankets. The flashlight flicked on and off in her hand, halos marking the ceiling in thought.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She frowned, blinking. A ruddy glow spoiled the darkness at the end of her bed. Propped up on one elbow, Tink spied the closet next to her bedroom door hum in a growing scarlet pulse. The odd light made her bolt upright in bed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The light hummed, rattling the closet door once, twice, and then it flung open in a sunburst of light radiating inwards. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She held her hand up to shadow her eyes from the brilliant flashing but as suddenly as it had invaded her room, the blinding light winked out, and her room returned to Stygian darkness. She heard her Mickey Mouse clock tick in the silence. Panting and shaking, Tink realized dumbly that her hand still gripped her flashlight. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

A trembling flick of its switch and she sent the feeble beam in the direction of the closet. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The beam ran down the foot of her bed and flashed into the eyes of a stranger blinking back at her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tink  nearly dropped the flashlight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Before her, clutching on the footboard of her bed for balance, crouched a strange looking man in a tweed vest with a matching tweed-fabric bowler\u2019s cap. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Both Tink and the man stared at each other by the weak illumination of the flashlight, panting almost in time together. Still unable to speak, Tink took in everything of the scene in slow motion. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He was rotund in shape, about her father\u2019s age. He seemed to be balding under his hat and in his vest pocket was a gold chain which led to what looked to be an antique pocket watch. On the floor beside him was a leather case that looked much like a doctor\u2019s bag. It listed to the side spilling some of the contents. The man saw Tink\u2019s eyes roam across it and he stumbled to his knees and wheezed out a single word, hands trembling to right the doctor\u2019s bag and contents.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPlease\u2026\u201d His voice wavered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Frozen voice or not, Tink sprang into action. The man was obviously as out of place in the world as he was in her room. She padded across the floor, flashlight in hand and tried to steady him. Her hand gripped his elbow. He wore a white shirt with frilled cuffs like a pirate of old, and she noticed with horror a darkened stain along the front of his vest. She started to whisper words of concern, when she saw him pick up one of the fallen items of the bag. He held it out to her, and she shook her head as if he were offering a gift.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo.\u201d He said, coughing wetly. \u201cTh-they\u2019re coming\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In his palm was the oddest thing.. He held an antique glass doorknob. The facets sparkled catching the light. The man struggled to his feet and wheeled a little drunkenly holding the bag and himself up leaning against the wall between both her closet and the door downstairs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWho\u2026 Who are you?\u201d Tink whispered. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her bedroom smelled of ozone, like lightning after a summer night\u2019s storm. Releasing his arm, Tink flicked on the bedroom wall light switch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eyes closed trying to regain his strength, the man held one hand against his vest. The dark red patch now dabbed into his white shirt. He looked once back to the closet door and pushed it shut protectively. He turned back to Tink\u2019s other door in thought. She thought he meant to leave down the stairs and turned the knob, opening the door a couple of inches. Bloodied fingers slammed it shut again, and Tink\u2019s eyes grew wide as he leaned against her weakly. She tried to protest but he squeezed the glass doorknob in her hand and pressed it tightly against the bedroom door, just between two hinges.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey\u2019re coming\u2026\u201d He croaked again and turned the doorknob with Tink\u2019s hand. It chunked, fastened to the wood, and smoothly turned some hidden mechanism. Impossibly, the door opened hinges-first towards Tink. A ray of bright red light exploded from the door frame like sunrise at dawn.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAh!\u201d Tink said, finally swallowing down her thick tongue. The light seared her eyes. She turned to face the man, light shadowing her form where the stairs should lead down to her parents.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPlease. Keep this.\u201d The man said. Tink recognized a thick German accent in his voice just as he thrust the doctor\u2019s bag into her arms, against her chest and shoved her hard through the portal of light. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry\u2026\u201d She heard him call from a distance as she fell into the copper-coloured brilliance. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

All at once, the portal winked out, like an eye blinking shut.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And for Tink, all went black as she fell hard into the darkness.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I’ve been playing with a new YA novel, perhaps a series, if it’s of interest to anyone. Doorknobs & BoomsticksA Tale of Perceptions Chapter 1: Red Light, Tweed Man, and a Doctor\u2019s Bag Tink was unique. Not in the \u201ceveryone is unique\u201d way you hear from parents and teachers.  No.  Tink, all of 12 years of age, red curls and …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"rop_custom_images_group":[],"rop_custom_messages_group":[],"rop_publish_now":"yes","rop_publish_now_accounts":[],"rop_publish_now_history":[],"rop_publish_now_status":"pending","footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-475","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-writing"],"wppr_data":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/jackjward.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/475","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/jackjward.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/jackjward.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/jackjward.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/jackjward.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=475"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/jackjward.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/475\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":477,"href":"http:\/\/jackjward.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/475\/revisions\/477"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/jackjward.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=475"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/jackjward.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=475"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/jackjward.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=475"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}