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    Beyond Ink
    Beyond Ink
    Beyond Ink
    Ebook81 pages1 hour

    Beyond Ink

    By JT Harris

    ()

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    About this ebook

    "This wasn't the first time I went through a portal, but it was the first one I remembered."

     

    Fresh through the portal, twelve-year-old Flora is abandoned by her caretaker. Fearing her worth is lost, she turns to hard work with the hope others will see her value.

    With the help of some new acquaintances and a mysterious book, her life is flipped upside down with her biggest challenge yet: make friends. But will it be enough for her to discover her true value?

     

    Buy now and get swept away with this whimsical short-story of discovery, truth, and friendship.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJT Harris
    Release dateSep 10, 2024
    ISBN9781989204252
    Beyond Ink
    Author

    JT Harris

    JT HARRIS is a child of the Most High God, Author, and Creator. The realms of Word, ink, and song are where she loves to explore, have many adventures, and sometimes take rest. She is a homeschooling mother of two children, wife to a loving husband, and has a family dog named Ben.

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      Book preview

      Beyond Ink - JT Harris

      Part One

      This wasn’t the first time I’d gone through a portal, but it was the first one I actually remembered.

      Nerves gripped my stomach.

      Don’t dawdle, Flora. Penelope had a firm grip on my wrist as she pulled me down the wooden walkway, and I was certain I’d lose circulation if she didn’t let go.

      Ow, I whimpered.

      Quit whining, she scolded, holding her pointed nose in the air.

      My poor cold hand. But we were leaving Banner City, and that was enough to distract me from my aching wrist.

      Rows of shelving towered above us, and long ladders hooked to rails glided back and forth to reach the books on high. Round staircases wound their way up to second and third stories above the rail stations. I nearly gasped from taking in the vastness of the library train station. During my time in Banner City, I’d been forbidden to go to the realm doors. Penelope didn’t trust them.

      Glass arched over the train station, held up by bending iron beams. Metal tubes and tracks stretched on for miles in all directions around us. Over each rail, a giant amber clock ticked a steady beat glaring down on the patrons below, its metal hands pointing efficiently at the time. I liked to think the old clocks were keeping watch over all of us and cheering us on to the march of their beat.

      Not everyone had my kind of imagination.

      Train whistles split the air. The great steel engines appeared through glowing portal doors, rumbling and roaring down their tracks. Penelope hurried me across the platforms. Through the hustle and bustle, people squished up against each other. Women grasped their long skirts as they stepped up to the platforms. Men checked their timepieces, tucking them back in breast pockets.

      Weaving between people, we passed a small group of child beggars with straggly hair and dirt-smudged everywhere. Solemn expressions glanced at me before quickly averting their eyes. Lost children, like me. Except I was fortunate enough to have been placed in a home with Penelope. She often reminded me that if I didn’t work hard, I could end up just like those poor children. I needed to be useful.

      Penelope had received an urgent message earlier in the week. Her husband and two children, teenagers by now, had been found. I had never met them, but I had seen their likenesses in a sepia photo on the wall in our common room. In the photograph, Penelope had a dainty smile on her narrow, porcelain face. The little boy on her lap had a raised brow creased with worry as he looked toward the camera. Next to them was a skinny blond man wearing round spectacles and a brown corduroy jacket. An older boy in a checked shirt and tight suspenders sat on the man’s lap. Both had giant smiles on their faces. The little boy had a missing front tooth.

      It was rare to see Penelope smiling, and I was hoping she would get it back. Maybe with her happiness found, I would find some of my own.

      A flicker of hope ignited in my heart—hope I thought I’d lost.

      One day. Oh, one day soon, I would find my own happiness.

      My heart dared to swell with a glimmer of joy as I imagined a house filled with people. People who loved each other. I could hardly wait.

      Move, child. Penelope prodded me forward with her fingers.

      Yes, ma’am, I said, taking Penelope’s crisp navy bag so her hands would be free. Behind the long, polished counter, librarians stood like tellers at a bank, stamping libri cards and port passes. Pageboys fetched books, scrolls, and tomes, and book shafts hissed and zipped, sucking or pushing books and scrolls to their genre-designated platforms. Pure ink bottles were secured behind protective glass under lock and key.

      A red-haired woman leaned forward over the counter, pushing her round glasses high on the bridge of her freckled nose, accentuating her amber eyes.

      Where to? she asked, slouching as she twirled a navy plumed quill between her fingers.

      Rony Village. Penelope fiddled with her coin pouch. Two coppers dropped on the counter. She smacked her hand down on top of them, keeping them from rolling off the countertop and onto the floor. After digging into her bag, she placed our port passes on the counter.

      The librarian lazily typed something on her scribebook. Behind her was a half wall covered in brass doors with titles above each one marking which realm each door represented. She turned to a small brass shutter marked Garden Realms and grabbed an emerald fabric-bound book.

      Rony Village. What kind of place was that? Were we meeting her family there? No. She’d said we had some errands first. My heart fluttered. Okay. Calm down.

      The librarian dipped her quill into the ink-stained jar then scratched our destination on the parchment in front of her before placing the quill into the open book beside her. She shut the book back behind the small brass shutter marked Garden Realms. Shoop, and the book was sucked up through a maze of tubes and chutes. Thump-thump. The librarian thwacked her rubber stamp on our port passes and handed Penelope two tickets. Barely seconds after our passes were stamped, Penelope pulled me into motion to our portal station. I stayed as close to her as possible. I didn’t want to be left behind or forgotten.

      The pedestrian portals were littered with families, businessmen, and messengers. Bowler hats, news caps, or messenger bags stated what line of work each might have.

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