Middle-Grade Fantasy
Published Date: 4-25-20
Publisher: INtense Publications LLC
Eleven-year-old Casey Grimes is invisible. Really. When he leaves suburbia and infiltrates a secret forest society, he can finally be seen—but Sylvan Woods hates outsiders as much as it loves killing monsters. As Butcher Beasts invade, his flimsy cover story falls apart, and courage is his only chance to belong.
EXCERPT
They pulled out the picnic basket. Casey spread the tablecloth and loaded it with plates and glasses. Gloria set a checkers game on one side. By the time Casey was done unpacking, she’d weighed each corner of the blanket down with a smooth black stone.
“Where’d you find the climbing weights?” He poured lemonade.
“In the closet.” Gloria fitted an apple slice into her mouth so she had a one-piece smile trimmed with red.
Casey smiled back. “With the picnic stuff?”
She chewed up her smile and swallowed it. “No, the other closet.”
“What other…” He tried to stop, but it was too late.
“Ooh.” Gloria raised her eyebrows. “You didn’t know about that, did you?”
“Darn it,” Casey said. “How many closets does this tree have?”
Gloria’s closet was well organized. Ropes and harnesses hung from hooks in the ceiling. Rows of climbing weights lined a wall. Drawers contained carabiners, O-rings, and boxes of chalk. On the final wall…
Casey’s shoulders twitched.
Swords. Spears. Bright, oddly-shaped weapons. Cold traced his spine as he took a spiky mace down from the wall. “This is unbelievable,” he said. “Feels totally real. Heavy…and, ouch! Sharp points—these are real.” He put the barbed club down and sucked one finger.
“Where’d you find the climbing weights?” He poured lemonade.
“In the closet.” Gloria fitted an apple slice into her mouth so she had a one-piece smile trimmed with red.
Casey smiled back. “With the picnic stuff?”
She chewed up her smile and swallowed it. “No, the other closet.”
“What other…” He tried to stop, but it was too late.
“Ooh.” Gloria raised her eyebrows. “You didn’t know about that, did you?”
“Darn it,” Casey said. “How many closets does this tree have?”
Gloria’s closet was well organized. Ropes and harnesses hung from hooks in the ceiling. Rows of climbing weights lined a wall. Drawers contained carabiners, O-rings, and boxes of chalk. On the final wall…
Casey’s shoulders twitched.
Swords. Spears. Bright, oddly-shaped weapons. Cold traced his spine as he took a spiky mace down from the wall. “This is unbelievable,” he said. “Feels totally real. Heavy…and, ouch! Sharp points—these are real.” He put the barbed club down and sucked one finger.
About the Author
AJ Vanderhorst has had many jobs, including journalist, paramedic, escape artist, and baby whisperer. One time in fifth grade, he built a traffic-stopping fort in a huge oak tree, using only branches and imagination, and slept there for a week.
Now he and his wife live in a woodsy house with their six proteges and a ridiculous number of pets, including a turtle with a taste for human toes. This makes AJ an expert on wild, dangerous things—invisibility spells, butcher beasts, hungry kids, you get the idea.
He is the only author in the world who enjoys pickup basketball and enormous bonfires, preferably not at the same time. He and his family have drawn up several blueprints for their future tree castle. Visit AJ online at ajvanderhorst.com.
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