An Agent's Inbox #3

Dear Ms. Jeglinski,

When fifteen-year-old David O’Reilly passes out in English Lit, he wakes to find things different. His classmates carry swords at their hips, and Magical Aptitude has replaced Algebra. Even his town has changed. The pavement has turned to cobblestone and half the homes have gone from vinyl siding to wattle and daub. 

David’s bouts of unconsciousness don’t stop there, and neither do the changes to Ithaca, PA, which is becoming more and more Medieval. Soon David’s coal miner dad undergoes a strange transformation that leaves him dwarfed in height and incredibly strong. When he and the other miners heed an irresistible call down to the depths of the earth, David must find the one responsible and put a stop to it. Ideally before these coma-inducing temporal shifts send Ithaca back to the Dark Ages. 

All the clues lead in one direction: Town Hall and a mayor who has closeted himself behind spear-wielding guards. David decides to break in, or he would if he could make it through the week without being harassed by school bullies who now carry lethal weapons. When David manages to penetrate Town Hall, he finds the mayor dangling by strings from the ceiling; a puppet literally and figuratively. From the mayor’s animated lips comes a mocking voice. “Stop me if you can, David, but isn’t this the way the world should be?” 

My first novel, MYTHACA, is a 55,000 word upper MG contemporary fantasy with series potential. Thank you for your time and consideration.

Sincerely,

P.S.

MYTHACA

It felt kind of like a granny squeezing your cheeks, except instead of just squeezing, she pulls your face in three different directions and pushes on your eyes with her thumbs. My body felt disjointed too, like I’d lost all my bones and was being twisted into a tight knot.

“David?”

The bones slid back into place, but granny was still having her way with my face.

“What’s wrong with him?”

I opened my eyes a little. The world stopped spinning long enough for me to tell where I was. At first, all I saw was the underside of my desk, pink globs of dried up gum and little indentations that had been drilled into the particle board with the tip of a pen. I noticed that most of the class was crowded around, staring down at me.

“I’m alright. I’m good.” I sat up and gripped the edge of my chair in case the floor decided to smack me again.

“Was that a seizure?”

“Do you smell burnt toast?”

I sat down at my desk and tried to sort out my hair, but the red curly fuzz ball did what it wanted. The other kids were still staring at me, probably wondering when I would flake out next. I held out both my hands to show that they weren’t shaking. 

“See, solid as a rock.”

The show was over. Starting with a few of the more popular girls who didn’t want any of my weirdness to rub off on them, they all headed back to their desks.