Nathaniel spent the rest of his vacation scanning books in the library for ideas about his Masterpiece, and downstairs behind the wall drawing with his new Pen. He drew many small scenes that amused him, like clouds that changed shapes and chickens that ate corn and a barn with some pigs that went in and out of their stalls.

  One day, as the holiday was drawing to a close, he made his way to the library like he had many times before; but this time he looked out of one of the windows in the hallway on the way up the stairs. He saw his dad talking with a man who had really long black hair and was dressed in some type of gothic-style clothing. He watched them interact for a while, until the man shook his dad’s hand before he got in the back seat of a black sedan and rode away down the long driveway. Nathaniel watched as his dad turned around to head back in the house. His dad looked up, and Nathaniel quickly moved to the right of the window, hoping his dad hadn’t seen him. "Crap!"

  Nathaniel hurried down the ladder with his heart beating through his chest. "Man, that was close. I wonder who that guy was." He had to remain still in the leather chair until his heart stopped beating so fast. "Probably nothing; Dad’s always traveling to Europe. I bet it was a guy from one of his engineering firms… he didn’t look like an engineer." Oh well…

  When his emotions finally calmed down, he opened his sketchpad to the next blank page and drew a man with a large leaf-like head, eyes like acorns, and a nose that was a little more than two holes. He shaded the leafy head black and gray. Then he proceeded down to the shoulders and chest and waist, and drew a type of chain mail studded with diamonds or icicles mixed with tree bark. He shaded the hands black and gray, and drew rings on all fingers, including two thumb rings. But the hands were also gnarled and elongated, like the branches of a tree. The man's legs were like stone with small river rocks running through them, with a band around one thigh holding a series of small daggers in place. The leaf-man's feet were like tree roots, but were covered in a mix of the same diamonds as his torso, and Nathaniel shaded some rays of light coming out of them. By the end, the creature was something like a tree-man, but different. He got the idea for him from a scene in The Wizard of Oz, when the trees came alive and started throwing apples at Dorothy and her companions.

  "Wouldn't it be cool if you could, like, walk off this page and into that drawing, and camouflage yourself to look like a waterfall or tree or something?" he asked the figure, as he pointed to the Masterpiece with all the waterfalls running over the stones. "I will name you Korrondo-Blink, which is my version of 'camouflage.' Every time you blink, you can teleport yourself somewhere else."

  After Nathaniel wrote his name on the paper, the creature came to life and walked off the page, disappearing altogether.

  Nathaniel dropped the sketchpad in wonder, then went about looking for Korrondo-Blink everywhere. He checked in all the cabinets and underneath the pillows and blankets; nothing. "Korrondo… hey, Korrondo… hey, come here. Where did you go?" Nathaniel spent an hour in the basement looking for his drawing. When his patience finally ran out, he went upstairs and talked the matter over with PaPa.

  "So this character you drew just walked off the page," the old man said thoughtfully.

  "Yessir, that's what I'm trying to tell you. I could have sworn he’d be in the basement someplace, but I can't find him anywhere."

  "It sounds to me like you just made your first addition to the Inkworld," PaPa said.

  When Nathaniel heard PaPa say "Inkworld" for the first time, something inside him jumped — almost like he'd always known about it, like a dream you know you've had but can't explain until someone or something reminds you of it, and even then, it's hard to put into words. "Inkworld…? What's that?"

  "As you know, the Pen has a way of making drawings take on a life of their own," PaPa began.

  "Yeah, but…"

  "Remember what I told you about the fire. Remember all that you have experienced already. Nathaniel, you've been entrusted with the Pen now. It's up to you find out what it's capable of."

  "Yeah, but…"

  "No more 'yeah buts,' young man. Nathaniel, did I ever tell you about the time that I almost went to work for Mr. Tolkien?"

  Nathaniel blinked. "You mean the Mr. Tolkien? Like J.R.R Tolkien? The guy who wrote The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings?"

  "Yes, that's right."

  "Are you serious? I would have done anything to illustrate for him and his books!"

  "Well, back when I was many years younger, I sat in on several of their meetings…"

  "Their meetings? You mean, the writing meetings with C.S. Lewis and… oh, sorry." PaPa had looked at Nathaniel with his glasses pulled down to the bottom of his nose, with a scowl on his face. Nathaniel took this to mean, "Quiet, you're being rude and interrupting me."

  "Yes, that's right… The Inklings, they called themselves. Anyway: to make a long story short, he wanted me to draw some maps and illustrations for his book. The only problem was that after I finished sketching something with the Pen, my drawings would come to life before my very eyes. When it came time to draw a few orcs — and they were nasty creatures, mind you — well, they did the same thing your drawing did — and I concluded that just wouldn't do. Besides, how could I tell Ronald that my sketches were coming alive and walking off the page? He wouldn't have believed me."

  "So what happened to the orcs?"

  "They disappeared into the Inkworld and then, well... I couldn't have a bunch of orcs running around desecrating the place. Why, the Lady of the Waterfalls would never have spoken to me again!"

  "Did you shoot them?" Nathaniel asked, wide-eyed.

  "Dear me, no. Guns don't work in the Inkworld, and I can't hit the broadside of a barn with an arrow, and I was quite helpless with a sword. No, I drew an elf and it was Brandov… Brandov…" Suddenly, PaPa seemed to tune everything out as his mind went somewhere a great distance away. He massaged his chin as he stared at the base of the couch.

  After Nathaniel watched him for a while, he leaned in close and touched the old man's shirt sleeve. "PaPa… PaPa, Are you okay?"

  PaPa suddenly looked up, despondent, with an actual tear trickling down his cheek. "Yes, yes, I'm fine," he said quickly.

  "But you're crying."

  "Oh, it's just an old memory, that's all."

  "So what about the orcs, then?"

  "Let's just say they were eradicated within days by the elf I drew who was really good with a bow and a sword. So: back to what I was saying. Ronald — that's what we called Mr. Tolkien — told me that he was writing a fictional story like nothing ever before written, a grand tale, a mythology for England that he wanted to come alive in the minds of his readers." PaPa leaned in close to Nathaniel as before. "That is the number one difference between fiction and that Pen. The Pen makes imagination come to life. I call it revegination."

  "Revegination? So this Inkworld is, um, revegination?" Nathaniel asked.

  "In most ways, yes — but in some ways, it is purely imagination. It occurs when you have a revelation about your own imagination, or when your imagination becomes a revelation… so you see, the Pen gives you revegination. So it is with this interesting fellow you drew who came to life. You now have had a revelation about how your imagination works, and how the Pen can help make your imagination a reality."

  Nathaniel shrugged. "That sounds pretty out there, but I like it. Revegination, huh? So what you're saying is that everything I draw with this Pen from now on will come to life in an imaginary place called Inkworld?"

  "I said no such thing. There is only one thing for certain: you cannot tell what will become real or what will stay fixed on paper. Only time can tell that. And I never said Inkworld was an imaginary place. What I did say is that as you draw with that Pen, you will live life on a higher level of revegination. For you, that means you will have a heightened imagination and greater revelation working together, like a hand and glove. Very few people have been privileged to experience what you are about to experience."

  All this talk of imagination and revelation was too much for Nathaniel's thirteen-year-old mind. His thoughts shifted to more present, down-to-earth things. "Okay, so why didn't you just use a different pen for his illustrations? I mean, it was J.R.R. Tolkien, for Pete's sake."

  "Because, Nathaniel, once you start using that Pen, no other mere pen will satisfy. When you finish your Masterpiece, you will know what I'm talking about."

  "Why can't you just tell me?"

  "If I were forty years younger, lad, I would show you. Now off you go, Nathaniel. Let me sleep a little before dinner. Besides, I’ve made my plans." PaPa nestled in his chair with his new blanket around his waist and legs, and closed his eyes. Nathaniel inspected the Pen one more time, then turned and walked away; and as he did so Nathaniel turned and saw PaPa opening one eye ever so slightly, glancing at him, while a mischievous grin crept across his face. He fell asleep with that same smirk fixed on his lips.

  That evening was the last dinner they had together as a family before the holiday ended. PaPa and Nathaniel talked late into the night, sitting by the fire. Nathaniel began to wonder if he even wanted to keep the Pen. There was, however, a bond already forming between Nathaniel and the magical instrument that couldn't be explained.

  The next day, Nathaniel and Tommy hung out in the front of the house around the grand fountain. The snow had ceased, and warmer air had taken its place. Things were still a little wet from the melting snow, but it was a perfect day to end the vacation. The estate somehow looked different to Nathaniel. He decided that the place where he'd spent every Christmas had taken on a truly magical aura, at least for him, for the first time. Oblivious to Nathaniel's experience, Tommy also seemed to be influenced a little, in ways that he couldn't express. "Did this Christmas go... I dunno, fast for you?" Tommy asked.

  "Too fast. I was just starting to have fun, and now it's over," Nathaniel replied.

  "We do have one more present coming. You know that, right?"

  "I know that everyone gets a watch when they're thirteen."

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  "Yeah, that's me and you this year. And do you know what kind of watch? A Patek Philippe."

  "Yeah, I know. They're like one of the most expensive watches you can get."

  "I want a newer model. I told PaPa the style and color in my last letter. I hope he gets it for me," Tommy said.

  "Not me. I want one of the old classics."

  "We'll soon find out. Just a little while longer."

  By then, all their bags were packed and sitting inside the front door. The rest of the family members gathered their last minute things, and one by one they said goodbye to PaPa as their taxis rolled in. Aunt Susan and her family would be the last to leave. They lived in London, and stayed on for a while to make sure everything was properly taken care of and cleaned.

  PaPa stood at the front door and waved everyone off as they rode down the long driveway. He had instituted another family tradition, which meant that any child in line to receive a watch always left last. Edwin had a certain way of doing things, and Nathaniel thought he had a cool style, even for a ninety-year-old man.

  "Tommy! Be blessed, Son," PaPa said as he handed Tommy a package. "I hope you enjoy this for many years. I think it's the one you wanted. Keep reading your mystery novels and keep your imagination active. I will let you know when you can start reading the book I gave you."

  "Yessir. Thank you very much!"

  "You'll be here next year, won't you?" asked PaPa.

  "Yessir! I wouldn't miss it for the world."

  "Have you ever read Sherlock Holmes mysteries?" PaPa asked.

  "Yessir, every single one."

  "I think the book I gave you may be a little like that. I sure hope you enjoy going on adventures that only books can bring. Remember, I will call when you can open it and begin reading."

  "Cool. Sounds great!"

  Tommy climbed in the taxi with his family and waved goodbye to everyone.

  Nathaniel ran alongside the taxi until it reached the end of the circle. "See ya, Tommy!"

  Tommy waved goodbye from inside the taxi with a big grin on his face as he showed Nathaniel his fancy new watch.

  After they'd gone, Nathaniel walked over to his great-grandfather. "You don't have to give me anything else, PaPa," he said quietly.

  "Nonsense! This is something I want to do. This is a 1938-model Patek Philippe," he said, handing a package to Nathaniel. "It was made right before the war, lad. I know you like this kind."

  "I do! They make me think of you when you were young."

  "Well. That was quite a long time ago. Now put it on, yes? I want to see what it looks like on you."

  Nathaniel did. "PaPa, I think I have an idea for my Masterpiece."

  "Excellent! I look forward to seeing it. Now: one more word of advice, Nathaniel. Don't spend hours and hours looking at your Masterpiece before you frame it. The Pen uses special ink only found in England and Spain, and it needs to be framed in glass soon after you sign it. Also, send it Priority Mail, very well packed, and label it FRAGILE. It's very important you label it that way, got it?"

  "Okay. I'm going to start working on it when I get home. I'll probably need some larger paper. I was thinking about an off-white color."

  "I'm sure you'll do a wonderful job." PaPa put his hand on Nathaniel's shoulder. "That's why I gave you the Pen, Son."

  "So, what's going to happen when I finish it?"

  "I'm not sure, Nathaniel. Maybe nothing, maybe something small, maybe something grand. It is hard to tell from picture to picture. What's more important is what happens to you when you finish a Masterpiece; and me for that matter."

  "You? Sounds mysterious."

  The old man laughed. "Indeed it is, but worth the mystery — and the wait! And don’t forget; as soon as you’re finished, seal it with glass and send it to me, for I’ve been waiting too. I’ve been making my own plans, you know."

  "Huh? What plans do you keep talking about?"

  "Oh, never you mind that now. I’ve made my plans. Put all your effort into that picture for me, and next year when I see you, it will be on the other side."

  Nathaniel hugged PaPa and said his final goodbyes, then crawled in the black sedan with his family. As they headed down the long drive, Aunt Susan and PaPa waved to them from the front door; then the car turned the corner out of the gate, and they were on their way back to Boston. What the heck does he mean, "the other side?" I think PaPa is losing his mind.

  Nathaniel was filled with an enormous anticipation, eager to get home and start his drawing. When they finally unpacked the next day, his dad took him to the local craft store, where they bought a large pad of off-white paper similar in size to the Masterpieces he'd seen in the basement. After several weeks of sketching with pencil, going through nearly half the pad, and getting fed up with it all, he decided to go back to his first drawings with the Pen in the hope of finding some inspiration. When he opened his old sketchpad and found all the drawings missing, he exploded in fury. "Mom… Mom!" he yelled, as he bolted down the stairs. "Have you seen any of my drawings? All my drawings are missing from my new sketchpad!"

  "I haven't seen your new sketchpad, Nathaniel," his mother said.

  "Well, someone came in my room and did something with my drawings! Do you think McKenzie's loser boyfriend took them?"

  "Oh, honey, I don't know why he would. I honestly don't think anyone has been in your room lately except for you and me."

  "Well, it's not like they grew legs and walked off the page…" He stopped abruptly and murmured, "...or did they?"

  "What was that?" Nathaniel's mom asked.

  "Oh, uh, nothing. Sorry, Mom. I'm going back upstairs. If you see them, will you let me know, please?"

  "Of course. Now, why don't you wash up for supper? We're eating pretty soon."

  Nathaniel tore his room apart looking for the drawings that he'd sketched at PaPa's, but gave up as the days wore on and they never did reappear, to his frustration. No artist likes for their drawings to go missing. Ultimately, he concluded that either someone had taken them, or they did somehow vanish off the page.

  After a month or two of holding himself hostage to drawing nonstop, he received a text from his friend Juli.

  Everyone is going out for pizza on Friday. Join us.

  He texted back:

  What time?

  She replied:

  Seven.

  He texted:

  Cool.

  Everyone didn’t actually mean everyone; it only meant their usual gang of friends who had grown up together since elementary. In Islington, there wasn’t much for junior high students to do except go to football games and other school events. But that season had passed. Now they were in the long stretch before summer, when time itself seemed to pick up speed, so that the sixty-second minute felt unusually fast. Spring break was fast approaching, and right after that summer break, when time would slow back down for a little while.

  When Nathaniel walked into Islington Pizza shortly after seven, everyone said hi in their own way – Look what the cat dragged in or Long time no see, or Why all the secrets?

  "The truth is that my great-grandfather is dying, and he wants me to draw him a picture before he does. So there you have it. That’s what I’ve been doing."

  "No secret girlfriends?" his friend Brian asked.

  "I don’t think so. And before you say it the answer is a big fat no to that too."

  "Come on, everyone give Nathaniel a little breathing room," Juli said. "This is the first time the groundhog made it out of his burrow all winter. Maybe spring will come early this year!"

  "Ha ha, very funny. All of you guys are a regular bunch of comedians. Maybe you should go on late night television or start your own comedy club."

  That was how they talked with each other — always poking, always picking, always putting each other down; except the more trash that was talked, the greater the love expressed, and Nathaniel, for the first time in a long time, felt the love of his closest friends since he’d gotten back from England with his new Pen.

  Juli had gone ahead and ordered Nathaniel’s favorite pizza for him before he got there, so that when it arrived at the table, he immediately dug in. Over the next several hours, most of the customers in the restaurant cleared out, including their friends, while Nathaniel and Juli stayed and talked all the way until closing.

  "Do you want me to walk you home, or is your mom picking you up?" he asked.

  "Let’s walk."

  Juli lived about four or five blocks away from Islington Pizza, opposite the direction of Nathaniel’s house, which was four or five blocks the other way. But he was used to long walks, since he had to make his own way to school most days.

  "You’ve changed. Ever since you got back from England this year, there’s been something different about you."

  "Really? How?"

  "I don’t know yet. I can’t quite put my finger on it. It seems like you’re more serious and more secretive."

  "I’m not sure exactly what you’re talking about."

  "Oh my God, you’re a terrible liar too! Come on, Nathaniel Hancock, what gives?"

  "Honestly? Honestly, I’m just worried about my PaPa, that’s all. I’m not sure if he’ll live another year. He was pretty frail this past Christmas. If he dies, I don’t know what will happen to our family vacations there."

  "Well, that sucks for you. I’m sorry to hear that. I still don’t know if I’m getting the whole story or not."

  "I don’t know if I’m getting the whole story either. My PaPa started talking crazy about some things, and there are too many holes in his story for me to make sense of, so I guess time will tell. But I hate waiting on things like that."

  "So, what do you think of Katie?"

  "About what?"

  "Do you like her?"

  "I’m not sure what to think about her. Every time I see her, she’s with another guy, but she keeps looking at me like I’m supposed to care. She’s kind of a tease."

  "Interesting you’d say that."

  When they got to her house, he walked her down the long driveway up to her front door. "I guess I’ll see you Monday at school," she said.

  "Cool, I’ll see you Monday. And thanks for the invite tonight. I didn’t know how much I needed that."

  "See ya!" She closed the door behind her, and he walked home alone in the dark.

  After a week of playing online with a few of the guys, he withdrew more and more, spending all his spare time drawing. He sacrificed time with his friends, he rode his bike less, and he even drew straight through spring break. Nathaniel did, however, finish out the baseball season while drawing his Masterpiece for PaPa, so that by May, he'd completed a preliminary pencil sketch he was happy with. He now faced the tedious task of outlining and shading, and knew it was going to take several months to finish the four-by-four foot drawing, especially if this was to be a Masterpiece of the same caliber as the others.

  Nathaniel started by shading and detailing the small rolling hills in the background. They were dotted with maple trees, walnut trees, English elms, chestnuts, and clusters of Norway spruce and Douglas fir. A tree expert would have been able to identify each species easily, given Nathaniel's phenomenal attention to detail. He managed to shade the sky so that it looked overcast, with a few rays of light descending through the clouds in the distance — just as he wanted it. He even threw in a few snow flurries, and shaded the ground with a thin layer of snow.

  He shaded the brick well in the foreground darker to create the sense of depth he wanted, and detailed the rope and pulley precisely. Small icicles were hanging off the pulley and bucket that sat chained to the side of the well. "That looks pretty cool." The courtyard walls were done in larger stone blocks. He capped them with a little snow, and drew two lanterns on the gate pillars. An Iron Gate stood partially opened between them, such that the landscape could be seen through the bars. Vines grew up the stone walls and had icicles dripping off many of the leaves, just as he'd seen in the backyard at PaPa's.

  Partially snow-covered cobblestone walks lined the courtyard, with its raised planter boxes for summer herbs placed between the walkways. They were also lightly covered with snow. The low-lying branch of a beech tree grew down to the courtyard, some of the twigs and dead leaves halfway buried in the new-fallen snow. He drew in a little bird perching on the end of the branch and colored it red with his Prismacolors, which made it stand out as a focal point in the drawing, since it represented the only color in the entire Masterpiece.

  For the border of the picture, he drew the frame of a window with small knobs in the center, so that it had the effect of a courtyard garden seen through the windows. He'd finally captured the essence of what he'd seen last Christmas while snapping beans.

  By the time eighth grade was about to start, he only had a little more shading to do before finishing with the final touches. The night before school started, he got a text from Juli:

  I know your mom works, so we'll pick you up in the morning. No one should have to walk alone the first day of eighth grade.

  He replied:

  Okay. Thanks.

  Juli was right; something had changed since Christmas break. He'd been given a magical pen by his PaPa and couldn’t tell anyone about it, especially her. What would she think? She would think he'd lost his marbles. But what did he know of its power? The drawing he was working on didn't move at all, unlike the others he'd drawn at PaPa’s.

  The truth was, he'd kind of forgotten about its magical potency, and sort of chalked it up as a fluke. But that didn't deter him from wanting to finish the picture for his PaPa. It truly was becoming his best drawing to date.