Logan Meets The Pagemaster Chapter 1

Chapter One

*The scene is a swirl of blue mist-like clouds swarming all around the area. Soon, a batch of smoke waves around forming a shape before the screen until words are formed*

"Logan Meets The Pagemaster"

*Soon the words are wiped off as a series of shapes are formed: From a pirate ship, to a foreboding looking manor as a wolf howls in the background, followed by a fearsome dragon blowing a puff of smoke towards a mystery figure armed with a sword and shield. Seemingly unrelated these cloud formations and yet to some it may appear to be a foreshadow of events soon to pass. A flash of light crashes in the background, followed by the booming roll of thunder and lightning*

*A boy awakens from a crash of light, a boy with blond hair, who picks up his flashlight shining it around his room. Looking around, there are various signs indicating many dangerous hazards: "No Smoking" and "High Voltage" being the few of them. For these signs belonged to a young boy named Richard Tyler, the boy himself soon takes his glasses from the nearby desk and cautiously lifts himself off the bed. He looks around the room shining his flashlight, as if he were looking for something amidst the piles of emergency bags and even a fire hydrant on the wall*

*And yet, Richard felt absolutely sure that something had drawn the boy's attention. It's as if he can feel a presence of sorts by his bedroom window, as he slowly approaches the window. He bends the shades just a bit to peak outside with nervous intent. Lightning flashes over a tree and for a brief moment, he thought he saw a pair of feline eyes staring down at him*

*Giving a quiet yelp, Richard runs out of his room and makes his way toward his parents room. But before he can even knock, he can hear them arguing and slowly lowers his hand. Standing quiet, he listens knowing that this conversation, whatever they are discussing, is obviously about him. Inside the room, the parents, Alan and Claire Tyler, tucked in bed were indeed discussing on certain issues involving their son, Richard*

Claire: Alan, every ten-year-old is afraid of something.

Alan: The kid's afraid of tuna fish sandwiches.

Claire: Mercury levels in the tuna.

Alan: Whatever.

Claire: Alan, the world is a frightening place to him right now. We could be a little more supportive.

Alan: I'm the most supportive father on Earth, but I'm running out of supportive things to do. He drove everybody at little league crazy with statistics about how you can develop tumors from being hit in the head with the ball and how shin splints lead to blood clots. *stands up and approaches the window* Claire, he brought in a medical journal. Nobody wanted to play after that. Now I'm building him a tree house in a tree he refuses to climb.

Claire: You know he hates heights.

Alan: I don't know. *sits on the bed* I just want to be a good father.

Claire: *pats his shoulder* But you ARE a good father.

*But still, the look on his father's face said it all: He clearly could not believe that he was doing something right. Little did he know, from outside their room, Richard had heard every word and he too felt unsure of himself. His father may have considered himself a bad parent, Richard believed his behavior has now made him an embarrassment to his family. Ashamed, Richard turns off his flashlight and slowly makes his way back to the bedroom pondering in his thoughts. A strike of lightning sends him running back to his bedroom*

Rich: I'm okay, I'm okay *crack of lightning hits, sending him under the covers* No, I'm not!

*The following morning, Richard's father was working on the tree house, hammering down a few nails on the floorboards. Richard Tyler emerges from the house into the backyard dressed in a red buttoned shirt, light-brown shoes, and blue jeans. As the father finished one board, he turns to see Rich come out*

Alan: Hey Rich! *chuckles* Well, you like it?

Rich: Yeah, it's great, dad.

Alan: How about bringing me up that bag of nails?

*Richard picks up the brown bag containing the nails and holds it up for his father to reach*

Alan: No, come on up. Look… *hits the boards* Solid as a rock.

Rich: Dad, eight percent of all household accidents involve ladders, another three percent involve trees. We're looking at an 11 percent probability.

Alan: *sighs* Fine, just put the bag in the bucket.

*The father found it useless to argue; asking for one favor from his son, he already knew the answer. As the father goes back to hammering the floor, Rich puts the back into the bucket and pulls on a long white rope raising it up so his dad could reach it. Unfortunately, Rich raised the bucket to high and the father turns to his son, who his momentarily distracted*

Alan: Rich!

Rich: Huh?

*Surprised, Rich accidentally released the rope, sending the bucket down and hitting his father square on the head. The impact causes him to lean down onto the wooden ladder and fall back first onto the ground with the ladder on top of him. The father groans, not suffering too much damage but clearly got the wind knocked out of him. Rich approaches his father to see if he's okay*

Rich: Dad, do you have feeling in your toes?

Alan: *pushes the ladder off* Yes, I have feeling in my toes.

Claire: *runs out* Oh, Alan, honey, are you okay?

Alan: Yeah, I'm fine. *brushes himself off*

Rich: Can't argue with statistics, Dad.

Alan: *mutters* Statistics. *speaks up* Here's something you can do. Go to Guttman's Hardware Store. Buy a pound of these. *gives Rich one of the nails*

Rich: But, Dad…

Alan: Son, you can't live your life based on statistics. You got to take some chances. Now, come on, buddy, you can do this. *hands Rich some money*

Rich knew his father had a point, as he reluctantly takes the money off his father's hands. There was no way he could argue his way out of this situation, so he slowly heads to his room to get ready as his parents watch him walk back to his room.

Rich: This is not good, definitely not good.

*Sometime later, the garage door to the house opens. Rich is finally in preparation to leave, standing on his bike inside the dark room. He turns on some lights, it's high beams cut through the darkness as he slowly peddles out. In the light, Rich looked like he was riding through a construction zone with the traffic-control jacket and a series of beeps echoing along his bike. It was much darker than earlier, no doubt Rich would've gone sooner if he probably didn't make some statistics how an accident is more likely to occur during the day. As Rich rode through his neighborhood, the sky got cloudy and a chance of rain was coming. Rich knew he had to get to the hardware store as quick as possible, so he could return to the safety and comfort of his own room*

*As Rich continued his slow bike ride, a couple of neighborhood kids were performing bike tricks in the middle of the street. The trick involved peddling their bikes as quickly as possible, thereby causing a huge amount of speed to bound over a board set-up in the middle and soar high and far enough to land on the other board or farther. Rich stops for a moment to check out what they were doing, no doubt he knew them from school but neither of them close to being his friends. Doing so was without a doubt his worst mistake, as the kids turn and make a face seeing Rich dressed the way he is*

Girl: Hey, guys, look, it's Richie Tyler.

Boy: Hey, check out his clothes. *calls out* Hey, Tyler, where are you going? The moon?

Kid 3: Get cable in that thing, Tyler?

*Tyler didn't even respond with an answer, as he peddled his way out of the neighborhood and continued his journey to the store. The kids continue to call out to Rich, taunting him and teasing him. Tyler had heard these jokes about him so many times from everyone, he already knew what kind of kid he was… He only wished they'd stop rubbing it in*

*Soon after, Rich had already sped from the neighborhood and onto a lonely street as a tunnel looms ahead. Rich slows down when the bike goes too fast, and stops for a minute to catch his breath. Suddenly, Rich notices a figure standing from the other side of the tunnel. It looked like a cat, except it's stood like a human and had the height to match. It was garbed in Egyptian like clothes, including a crown with a snake, and it's fur dark coated in color. This was Mirage, but Rich did not know who she was. He stands there looking at her from the tunnel, neither one of them utters a word. Mirage simply gives an evil grin towards the boy, raises her hand into the air, and snaps her fingers*

*CRACK! A bolt of lightning strikes a tree inches from Rich's position. Frightened, Rich peddles further down the tunnel hoping to escape as the storm got closer. Another bolt of lightning hits the power cables, spreading through the circuits. The bolt causes the light-bulbs to explode, shattering glass down to the tunnel as Rich peddles as hard as he can to get away. Finally, Rich manages to get out of the tunnel as the storm started to rapidly pour rain down to the ground. It was then that Rich noticed something odd*

*The mysterious feline figure, who stood at the end of the tunnel, mysteriously vanished. It was either a trick of his mind or he wasn't paying attention, but it was as if she wasn't even there. But Rich doesn't have time to figure it out. A flash from the lightning pans across his bike shield. The storm was getting stronger, Rich had to find shelter as soon as possible*

*Peddling as hard as he could, it became harder to find any cover much less the store. With the flash of thunder and the pouring rain covering his sight, Rich found himself peddling through the park trying to maintain balance. Suddenly, a loose branch falls in front of him causing Rich to swerve out of the way. The boy loses control of his bike and collides into a tree knocking him down to the ground. Rich picks himself off the wet ground, removes his helmet and feels his head*

Rich: *to himself* No cranial damage.

*As the boy recovers from his fall, he turns up to see a statue pointing to something in front. The boy turns that direction and to his relief sees a building where he could take shelter till the storm dies. He attempts to lift his bike, the headlights fading, but the roar of storm causes him to leave his bike and bolt toward the complex, throwing away his vest in the progress. As Rich approaches, he turns to a statue as the light from the thunder shines around it. For a moment, he swore he thought the statue "roared", frightening the boy more. Still, he ran inside the building and closed the door behind him*

*As soon as Rich was inside the building, a library of sorts, course it was dark inside and only the flash of lightning briefly lights up the room. Rich assumed he was the only one in the library, as he loosens his jacket a bit. But then, if he was the only one in the library, why were the doors unlocked? He looks around to see if there was at least someone else inside*

Rich: Hello?

*A creak from a door opens and Rich looks ahead to see a figure approach. Pushing a creaking cart. covered with books was an old man of sorts. He squints to see that he wasn't alone, but could not see the boy. He goes over to the desk, flicks a switch, and the emergency lights turn on filling up the whole room. Rich could not tell if this was the head librarian or possibly a janitor and nervously watches as the man slowly approaches him. Though Rich didn't know who this man was, the man was known in this building as Mr. Dewey, at least what the name on the desk implied. He examines the boy for a few moments before he finally breaks the awkward silence and shakes the boy's hand*

Mr. Dewey: *shakes Rich's hand* Welcome to the library, young man. *raises a finger* Don't tell me. You're here for a special book.

Rich: Mister…

Mr. Dewey: Stop, stop, stop. Allow me to guess. I have a talent for guessing what people need. You're in need of a fantasy! Brave knights, mythical fairies, ferocious dragons!

Rich: Look, all I want is…

Mr. Dewey: Adventure! Of course! You're a boy who loves adventure, brimming with wicked demons, cutthroat pirates.

Rich: No, no, that's not it.

Mr. Dewey: Horror! Oh, horror! Evil demons, wicked monsters, haunted houses, graveyards. Yes, it's horror for you, boy. I'm sure of it. Your library card, please.

Rich: I don't have one.

Mr. Dewey: *pulls out a brand new one* You do now. Sign here.

*Without question, Richard signs the library card just to amuse this man. No doubt this was a rather strange character, Rich felt a little unsure of what to make of him. Whether this librarian, if he is one, was trying to amuse him or he was insane. Still, just to make this man happy, he signs the card making Mr. Dewey rather pleased as he reads it*

Mr. Dewey: Richard Tyler, consider this your passport to the wonderful and quite unpredictable world of books.

Rich: But I don't want any books.

Mr. Dewey: Hmm?

Rich: That's what I've been trying to tell you. I only came in here 'cause of the storm.

Mr. Dewey: You mean you don't need…?

*Richard shakes his head, seeing the old man's face looking very disappointed. Certainly, Rich didn't mean to do so except this librarian must've felt utterly sure that he came in for books. But alas, it didn't seem like it was meant to be*

Mr. Dewey: *disappointed* Oh, I see.

*As Mr. Dewey returns to his desk, the building is once again filled with silence neither one knowing what to say. Looking around the building, Rich asks the librarian for one request*

Rich: Is there a phone where I can call my parents?

Mr. Dewey: *points to a long hallway* Through there. Proceed to the northeasterly direction until you get to the rotunda and from there, head west through the fiction section. And you'll find it… The public telephone. You can't miss it.

*Rich does so and starts to make his way down the hall. But a sense of uncertainty began to wrap around Rich, suddenly he felt nervous to walk through the library by himself. He turns back to Mr. Dewey, who turns to see the boy looking at him*

Mr. Dewey: Don't be afraid, boy. If you lose your way, merely direct yourself back to the exit sign.

*Rich understands and continues down the hallway, illuminated by a series of ceiling lamps looming over in addition to the crash of thunder and lightning. As Rich goes down the hall, he turns back again to see the front desk where Mr. Dewey returns to his desk work. Rich soon makes a turn in one direction as his feet patter along the blue-and-yellow squared marble floor. As he makes his way to the Rotunda, he looks to the ceiling*

Rich: Wow.

*Rich didn't take into account just how big this Rotunda was as he stands on top of a compass design on the floor. He examines each painting thoroughly: There was a picture of a knight, armed for combat, shielding himself against a fearsome fire-breathing dragon, A band of pirates searching for treasure on an island with a Ship in the background, a bearded harpooner lunging his harpoon against a massive whale, and there was even one of a posh scientist performing some experiment with the shadow of a hairy beast on the wall*

Rich: Jeez.

*Rich somehow recognized these stories, but what really caught him off guard was the texture and detail of each of these pictures. Rich didn't know what it meant, but he was so intrigued. He then looks up to see the one picture in the middle of them all: A wizard-like person, in blue garbs, holding a book in one hand as well as a scepter in the other. But something about this wizard looked remarkably familiar, especially the face. Rich knew he saw it somewhere before…*

*Just as Rich looked at the paintings, he failed to notice a thin trail of water dripping from his jacket near his shoes. And right when Rich moved to ask Mr. Dewey, he suddenly slipped on the puddle of water and hit his head onto the floor. For a period of time, Rich starts to lose consciousness as the room spins around and around in a circle going faster and faster…*

*By the time Richard woke up, it suddenly got dark inside the library as if the storm caused the power to shut off. Rich nervously looks around the room, at first hearing nothing*

Rich: *calls out* Hello!

*But Rich hears nothing but the sound of his own echoing going off in the empty room. As Rich slowly gets up, suddenly light fills the room again. Then, he hears another sound: A series of sword fighting, the cry of a man, and a horse galloping. He looks around, trying to find the source of the sounds. But he can't find out where they are and he doesn't see any machines that imitate those noises. Rich had a bad feeling about this*

Rich: Uh-oh.

*Suddenly, Rich feels something wet fall on his hand. He looks down to see what appears to be some loose paint on his hand. As he wipes it off on his jacket, suddenly he noticed something strange. Small drips of paint, all in different colors dripping onto the floor. Slowly Richard looks up and what he sees shocks him*

*The pictures appear to melt right before his very eyes, moving about. Suddenly, the paint starts to fall inches in front of Rich's feet. Rich backs away, but nearly runs into another waterfall of paint that pours down onto the floor. Suddenly, he turns to his jacket and that green spot suddenly spreads out onto his jacket. Scared, Rich tosses away his jacket and proceeds to run away from the falling trail of paint*

*Then, something weird happens, all the colors start to come together forming a dragon-like creature made out of paint. It turns toward Rich and utters a roar of sorts. Scared, Rich runs away as the paint somehow rushes toward the boy. As it edges along the shelves of books, they appear to become animate objects as it gets closer and closer to the boy. Rich looks back at the pursuing trail and crashes into a shelf. He screams as the paint gets closer, calling out vainly for the librarian to save him*

Rich: *screams* Mister! Mister! Where's the exit?

*Rich runs as far as he can to find the front desk, only to find himself back to the Rotunda again. It was if Rich had just ran in a complete circle and desperately looks around to see where he came from. Unfortunately, the waves of paint emerge from all directions and Rich's screams are in vain. With no where to run, no place to hide, and thinking this is the end, Rich covers himself as the waves of paint splash all around him before his world turned black*