Daniel Warriner - Digger Doyles Book of Real Monsters

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EPUB 9780228609803

Kindle9780228609810

WEB/PDF9780228609827

Print ISBNs

Amazon Print9780228609834

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Copyright 2019 byDaniel Warriner

Cover Art by MichelleLee

All rightsreserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reservedabove, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in orintroduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, orby any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, orotherwise) without the prior written permission of both thecopyright owner and the publisher of this book.

Digger knew itwas his uncle at the front door because no one else knocked justtwice. From his upstairs bedroom hed heard that heavy double thud,followed by the flip-flopping of his mothers slippers sweepingacross the living room floor. With its usual creak, the dooropened, and his uncles deep voice trembled through the house. Butin bed, Digger couldnt make out a single word.

Uncle Buddy,Aunt Emma, and Diggers untamable cousins, Corliss and Pam, livedright next door. And while any of these Happers would visit at anytime of day, for any number of reasons, none had ever popped by solate.

The grizzlymust be snooping around again, Digger thought. Hed seen the bearsniffing about earlier for huckleberries behind their houses at theedge of WolfsWhispers Woods. No doubt that bear was to blame forthe scratches at the back of the Happer shed, where they storedtheir syrups and jams. Had his uncle come to warn them to stayindoors?

Imagining clawssent shivers down Diggers back, so he squeezed the grizzly out ofhis thoughts. Besides, his uncle was probably there only for a chatabout camp. After all, summer vacation had started. Thats whyDigger was still awake, reading way past his normal bedtime.

His mother,Mrs. Doyle, was the biggest worrywart in all the tiny town ofWestwood. School night or not, she insisted on Digger going tosleep before eight oclock. But even then, Digger sometimessecretly read with a flashlight under his blanket. On this night,he placed that flashlight and his book on a bedside table, got outof bed, and thencarefully tiptoeing, so as not to make thefloorboards squeaksnuck out of his room and up to the topstair.

He couldnt seetheir faces, just his uncles navy blue workshop trousers, and hismothers orange nightdress. They were standing in the entranceway,a jump away from the bottom stair.

Mrs. Doylesvoice was growing. Something had rattled her, much more than anybear sighting could do.

Well, I hopehe doesnt notice its missing. Hed be terribly upset, youknow.

I understand,Isabelle.

Go onyoudbetter take it with you.

Its still inhis office, I presume?

Yes, whereits been for years.

What could hisuncle possibly want from his fathers office?

Doctor DaryusDoyle, Diggers father, worked for hours each day in that dusty,dimly lit room at the back of their house. That was before he lefton his last adventure, as Mrs. Doyle put it solemnly. Three yearshad gone by since he disappeared. But whenever Digger walked intothat office, memories of his father flooded his mind.

Digger wouldsit in the big chair, behind the wide wooden desk, and imagineDoctor Doyle reading stories from massive books, jotting downnotes, or pattering away on his old grey typewriter. Digger alsolooked at the hanging pictures, a collection of his fatherspeculiar drawings and mothers pretty paintings. One, a sketch byDoctor Doyle, was of a ghastly beast, with scraggly fur and a tailstudded with spikes. Another was of a rock-like critter, no largerthan a coconut, with oval eyes and six slick tentacles.

Mrs. Doylespictures were the opposite of his fathers fantastic creations.Years ago, she painted flowers, baskets overflowing with fruit, andviews of the sea and cliffs and WolfsWhispers. She captured thereal world, whereas Doctor Doyle drew what he imagined.

In those days,when his father was away, his mother would paint in the garden.Watching her, Digger would ask, Can we go with him next time? Hewondered why they couldnt all travel together. Shed tell him,Youre not old enough, Digger. The world is dangerous. Every timehe asked, the answer was the same. Youre not old enough, Digger.Always, Not yet.

Mrs. Doylehadnt so much as looked at a painting since Doctor Doylesdisappearance, let alone picked up a paintbrush. But her oldpictures remained on the office walls. They were cheery and sweet,and reminded Digger of what home used to be like.

Also in thatoffice was Diggers absolute favorite thing of alla globe.Surrounded by notepads, some sort of turtle shell, and thetypewriter, that colorful world seemed to float magically over thedesk. Each country had its own unique shape, some with rivers andlakes, others with snow-capped mountains or sandy deserts, and manybordered on blue seas. Hed place his hand on the globe and give ita twirl. Round and round it would spin, all its colors blurringtogether...

* * *

Digger couldbarely hear them talking in the office. His mother said shedbetter dust it off before his uncle took it with him. Itslate, he replied. Theres no need to bother with dusting. Thenhe suggested taking, this too, as it will help him understandwhere he might have gone, to which his mother reluctantly agreedwith a flat, all right. Next, in a stern tone, one Digger rarelyheard her use, she said, There wont be any need to show him theseif he isnt able to read it. Mr. Happer didnt respond, and for amoment all Digger could hear were his mothers slippers crossingthe floor again. Then, halfway to the door, those footstepsstopped.

You mustpromise me, Buddyif he cant read it, you wont mention anythingabout far-off islands. Promise me that, please.

Its unlikelythat hell be able to read it, Isabelle. But you have my wordif hecant see anything, then consider the matter closed, at least asfar as hes concerned. In any case, theres no reason to worry. Notyet, anyway. In fact, we should feel more hopeful that hes stillalive.

When his unclestepped back into view, Diggers heart pounded at the bottom of histhroat. In one arm, his uncle was carrying the globe. And under theother was the turtle shell.

Those belonghere! he wanted to shout out. But his mother would be angry if shefound out he was listening in, so he kept his mouth shut. Surely,he thought, his uncle wanted to turn the globe and shell into somecrazy invention. That was his hobbyinventing weird stuff. Diggerpictured the globe as a robot, wearing the shell, with dials andmetal rods sticking out in all directions. He had to get them backbefore that happened!

Ill talk tothe kids after lunch tomorrow, Mr. Happer said in a softer voice.Emma plans to make her summer stew. Shall we say noon?

Thatll befine. Please tell Corliss to bring Digger back on time, and theyshouldnt be messing about near the cliffs. Or in the woods, withthat nosy bear around. Or near the boats. Or in the

Isabelle,youre worrying again. All Corliss has planned is a couple hours offishing. But Ill tell him to keep an eye on the time, and not tostray far. Well all have plenty to do if, um... If we have toset off.

Set off? Hisuncle hadnt mentioned anything to Digger about traveling. He andCorliss were going to summer camp soon, but the campground was amere twenty-minute drive away.