EXCERPT

CHAPTER 1

"Here I am, waiting to grow up and become King of Otherland--and life is passing me by," Bunker Charles muttered to himself. "I have no friends, no buddies--nothing. I'm a rich prince, and so what! I'd trade everything for one good buddy. I want to do something--get in trouble--have some fun!" He sighed and looked out the window at the rolling green hills.

The thirteen-year-old prince counted geesepence as he sat at a heavy wooden table in his room. He touched the thick golden coins and looked out at the charming landscape that surrounded the ancient castle where he lived. Silent streams cascaded through lush green meadows. Puffy white clouds drifted lazily through the deep blue sky. Not too far away, planet earth and its moon were suspended in space as though by magic.

The son of the King and Queen of Otherland, Bunker had everything a young man would ever want--except friendship. He had been sheltered all his life from other children.

"Ordinary people just don't mix with royalty," his parents had warned him many times.

"What do they think I'll do, melt?" he had muttered back each time.

"At least I have you guys," Bunker spoke, stroking the smooth heads of the multi-colored canfers that played near his feet. They were small, cuddly creatures with petite wings and tails that could fly short distances. In size, they resembled baby seals. Their large soulful eyes were heart-grabbers and the people of Otherland adored them as pets. Canfers lived on raw vegetables and lots of love.

"You canfers are a lot like people," he smiled to his cuddly friends. "You come in all colors and you like to be loved."

He scratched his favorite green canfer's head. "And then there's you, Dillon. You laugh silly, you talk crazy, and you're weird!"

"Owanic, Dillon weird," the canfer replied in its raspy voice. Bunker couldn't decide which Dillon sounded like the most: a parrot trying to whisper, or a seal with a sore throat.

On the enchanted planet of Otherland, the monarch's castle was built in and around towering blocks of solid rock. Inside the castle were several rooms cut and shaped by powerful lasers. Sliding doors and secret passageways connected the adjoining chambers. All the rooms blended into a maze of smooth stone, wood, and glass supported with steel girders. Swift, silent elevators operated within the castle. A variety of colorful beveled-glass windows offered breathtaking views of the bewitching beauty of Otherland's surrounding countryside.

Bunker got up from the heavy table and looked around his favorite room. The furnishings were lush with velvet draperies, thick woolen rugs and colorful oil paintings of the quaint countryside. The furniture was hand-carved from select woods from the nearby forest. The interior fashions throughout the castle were from the past, present, and even future designs.

"I've made up my mind," Bunker said, walking around the room. "I'm gonna tell Dad that I want to get out of this castle, go see things, meet people, and go have a life. I'm a teenager now and I'm tired of being cooped up here like some kind of freak. If this is what it takes, then I don't want to be a prince. I want to be a real person...and I'm gonna go out and be one!" Saying this out loud encouraged Bunker. He sat down at his computer desk to call his dad on the intercom.

Bunker had the most powerful computer equipment available, loaded with software packages and video games. His clothing was the latest style on Otherland. He wore a comfortable, loose-fitting, one-piece, beige outfit. The outfits came in several pastel colors. His boots were brown and they came in assorted shapes and colors. They were made of stainless plastic and would never wear out.

Just as he reached for the intercom, his computer made an unusual growling noise.

"What?" Bunker asked, facing the monitor.

Several electronic eyes were placed outside the castle to cover the countryside. The high-powered video cameras were connected to his computer monitor and were programmed to recognize anything out of the ordinary. When there was a problem, it was relayed to his computer which then made foul growling noises.

"Whoa!" Bunker cried, excitedly. "The witch is back! That's the Evil Pencinell...and she's come over to the good side!"

Bunker picked up his intercom phone. "Dad? You there? Pick up! Quick!"

"Yeah," his father replied on the other end of the line. "What's up?"

"The evil witch you told me about--just came to the good side."

"You mean the Evil Pencinell?"

"Whatever you call her. She's in our video range," Bunker said, watching her on the monitor. "Her wings are bigger than you said they were. They're humongous! She's radical! What an awesome-looking witch, Pencinell, hag, whatever you want to call her."

"Don't let her out of your sight! I'll be right there," his father said.

Bunker spoke to his computer, "Computer. Follow object on screen." The computers on Otherland had no keyboards. They were voice-activated. The operator prefaced each order with the word, Computer, then the command. The computer did the rest.

Bunker watched in awe as the Evil Pencinell flapped her large wings, lifting herself awkwardly into the sky. It was an incredible experience to see a real person flying!

The witch circled a cottage nearby, then landed in a large tree. There were several small houses nestled together along a green slope. The homes had thick shingles and large windows.

Steven Charles entered his son's quarters riding his special solar-powered three-wheeler. The hot three-wheeler was built low to the ground, had sleek sides, and a pointed front end. The machine could maneuver the castle stairs with ease and would do 60 miles an hour on a straightaway.

Crippled from an auto accident on planet earth, Steven Charles was confined to a wheelchair. An inventor, he had created the special vehicle to get him around the castle. He wore a one-piece jump suit, solid dark gray with a black waistband, similar to Bunker's. He had on black plastic boots with a silver trim. Steven was slender with slightly graying hair and handsome features. There was a strong family resemblance between Steven and his son, Bunker.

"Let's see," he said, maneuvering the three-wheeler to Bunker's computer. He watched the monitor for a moment. "That's her all right! I didn't think she would ever have the nerve to come back here. That's one gutsy lady."

Bunker wanted to tell his dad how he felt about being cooped up all the time, but with the sudden change of events, his feelings would have to wait.

"You said you would tell me about her someday, Dad. Don't you think it's about time?" There were a lot of things Bunker wanted to know. One was about the Evil Pencinell. He had heard bits and pieces of strange stories about her all his life. He leaned forward on the table and waited.

The king's eyes grew intense--they were glued to the monitor, carefully watching the Evil Pencinell. After a moment, he leaned back and groaned.

"I guess it is time to tell you the bizarre story of the Evil Pencinell," his father sighed.