Theodore BomDom, Book 1

Chapter 2

It was a little house right at the corner of West Farthing and Middle-Dome Street near the center of the Academy Campus. Built in the common Mid-Century Protectorate style, the house was a narrow three-stories tall with tan walls accented with dark brown beams. Over the drab doorway was bolted a tin sign that read, "No. 42." This would be Theodore's new home for the next three years.

An anxious tingling in his ears and a slight tremor of his paws made Theo take a deep breath. It would be fine, he told himself. He'll make great friends and learn so many new things. He had heard so many wonderful stories of House Members regarding each other as family by their graduation day.

He hoisted his pair of overalls higher up on his legs and adjusted his brown sack. He drew in a hollow breath and reached for the doorknob overhead. With a quick turn, it squeaked open in noisy protestation revealing a very dark interior. Theodore cautiously slipped through the opening and into what looked like a small parlor. A stone fireplace stood in the back right corner, surrounded by old weather beaten chairs, and a sofa. Along the left wall was a staircase leading to higher floors. The rest of the room was crowded with bookshelves stuffed, yes with books, but also with Knick-knacks such as globes, old models of Green Gravel City, figurines of great Warriors and Protectors of Old, and most notably-a stuffed owl, sitting disturbingly still, eyes wide open on the tallest shelf. Theo thought the owl was as big as he was.

Cuckoo! Cuckoo!

Theo almost leapt out of his fabric, when a clock to his left donged loudly and a bird kept appearing and disappearing from the clock's face with each dong!

Odd, thought Theodore. It was an older clock, one you had to read for yourself, not a magical one that pleasantly whispered the time to you when you asked it politely.

In fact-Theodore looked about the room again, with a more critical eye. It was then he noticed the tattered rug on the floor that should have been thrown away long ago. Then he noticed how thread-bare the couches and armchairs were, with what padding was left on the inside spilling out of tears and rips at the seams. And as for the owl on the shelf-Theodore noticed its paper-mache chest protruding out in bare patches where feathers had fallen off.

"Hello?" Theodore called, his voice echoed through the house. He waited for any response, but only heard the creaking of the old house.

"Hello?" He called again, setting his sack on the floor. When he received no response, he turned and pushed the door shut. He looked at the paper again in his paw.

"Professor-?" He attempted to read the name of the HouseMaster. Slowly, he sounded it out. "Pick-lee-Dan-ee?" Still no answer.

Theo stuffed his paper inside his sack and swung it over his shoulder. Where could everyone be? Surely someone would have met him and let him know what he ought to do. He hesitantly walked to a doorway at the base of the stairs that led to an office filled to the ceiling with books. A large desk and red leather chair sat in the middle of it.

"Whoa." Theodore muttered, shocked that anyone would even think of reading so much. He read off the titles dealing with all sorts of different creatures and how to cure their ailments. One title seemed particularly funny to him-Sewing the Unsewable.

After no one could be found in the office, Theodore tip-toed to the stairs. When he reached the stairs, he stifled a gasp, for scarcely was there a step without a gaping hole punched through or a missing board. Theodore stared up the steps.

"Hello?" He called up the stairs. "Hellooooo? Is anyone here?" Still no answer. "Well," Theo talked to himself. "Where is everyone?" He looked out the front window and gazed down the street both ways. The entire place was deserted.