Book Review of Keeper of the
Black Stones
Sponsored by Pump Up Your Book
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ISBN:
978-0-9816768-1-4
RELEASE:
February 2013
ISBN:
978-0-9816768-0-7Trade paperback
Keeper of
the Black Stones
A Stone Ends Book
Blurb
:
Jason Evans, a shy, introverted high school freshman,
thought that his mundane life was all there was - girls, golf, physics, and the
occasional bully. Until he found out about the secrets his grandfather had been
keeping from him ... a set of stones that allowed him to jump through time ...
a maniacal madman who used the stones to shape history to his liking ... and
Jason’s role as one of the few people in the world who could stop that man.
Against impossible odds, a fourteen-year-old boy must take
up his legacy, learn everything he needs to know within one short day, and travel
helter skelter into the Middle Ages, to join Henry VII’s fight against Richard
III, end the Dark Ages, and stop the man who now holds his grandfather captive.
In this romp through history, Jason and his friends must race against time to
accomplish not one, but two issions.
Save his grandfather.
And save the world.
I've gone by many names, but it has always been me. I met
Anne Frank before she wrote her diary. I consulted
with Churchill on political doctrine. I crossed the Potomac with Washington.
And I even polished Napoleon's shoes, once, though it's not a story I like to
tell. I realize that these boasts won't be taken seriously, but I must remind
you that at one time the earth was flat,
the atom was unbreakable. And the thought of reaching the moon was just as
ridiculous as time travel.
I know, because I was there.
My name is Jason Evans, I'm ten days shy of my fifteenth
birthday, and this is my story...
About the
Author:
PT McHugh didn’t start out as a storyteller. He was,
however, born into a family that encouraged imagination. He became a fan of
history in school and then went to college to become a construction engineer, to build a
world of straight lines, angles, and equations.
He was just as surprised as everyone else when he realized
that he believed in magic, and might just know the secret of how to jump
through time. Since then, he’s been researching the possibility and learning
everything he can about history. Just in case the opportunity arises.
PT was born and raised in New Hampshire and currently lives
in Raleigh, North Carolina with his wife, two daughters, and a dog named Bob,
daring to dream of alternate worlds and cheering for his beloved New England
Patriots.
Contacts:
You can visit his website at www.ptmchugh.com.
Order a signed copy of Keeper of the Black Stones
Order your copy from Quail Ridge Music &
Books, Patrick's favorite bookstore.
Come find out what books litter Patrick's shelves at
Goodreads
Order a signed copy of Keeper of the Black Stones
Order your copy from Quail Ridge Music &
Books, Patrick's favorite bookstore.
Formspring
Ever wondered what it's like to live in the past? Or why
Patrick named his dog Bob?
Our favorite questions will be published in the next
installment of the Stone Ends series, in a special Q&A segment.
Excerpt:
“What
is this place?” he asked breathlessly. We were in a dark underground room, much
smaller than our basement. The room was lined in thick concrete blocks. There
was no light coming from the outside, and I guessed that the room was probably
soundproof as well.
Not a
room built for entertaining. A room built for keeping secrets.
Paul
found a cord in the ceiling and pulled it. We both jumped as several light
bulbs clicked on and flooded the room with harsh artificial light. The light
revealed a small metal desk with an old wooden straight-back chair against the
back wall. A computer monitor and hard drive sat on top of the desk, along with
several pens and pencils and one red three-ring notebook. Beside the desk stood
two wooden bookshelves, filled to bursting with books. Next to those, a large
map of England was taped to the concrete wall.
I ran
my eyes over the map to the floor on the left, and froze. The desk and map were
odd, but at least they were everyday items. The large black slab of stone lying
next to them was not. The cold chill ran down my spine again, and I shuffled
backward several steps.
“Oh my
God, is that it?” Paul asked nervously.
I
ignored the question and inched my way forward, toward the stone. It was large,
perhaps 7 to 8 feet wide and 10 to 11 feet long. Easily 3 to 4 inches thick. Hundreds
of symbols were etched into the dark surface, in a language I’d never seen
before. The stone was glossy, but didn’t reflect light the way it should.
Instead,
it seemed to suck the light from the room around us, building its own dark
aura. And it hummed. I could feel the pulse of the stone in my bones, like a
giant, steady heartbeat. It beat again and again, matching my own heartbeat,
and I forgot to breathe. Doc hadn’t been lying, then. The stone did speak to him.
And it called to me the same way it called to him. I’d been hearing it for
days. I just hadn’t realized it.
As I
stood there, transfixed and listening, the writing on the stone began to glow.
I blinked and looked again, to see that the glow was gone.
“Did
you see that?” I gasped, reaching for Paul and taking my eyes off the stone for
the first time.
“See
what?” Paul whispered. “The only thing I see is that creepy stone.”
“The
symbols ... I think they moved,” I said, surprised that Paul hadn’t seen it.
Paul
shook his head. “Didn’t see anything like that, buddy.” He took a step toward
the stone and bent over to look at it.
I
followed slowly, wondering if I’d been seeing things. Then the humming started
again, louder than before. This time it went straight to my head, and I gasped
and fell to my knees. The stone thrummed louder, and took on its eerie glow,
burning brighter and brighter until the symbols themselves lifted up off the
surface. They hovered just above the stone’s surface, ghostly, dark reflections
of their physical counterparts. Then they began to move, dancing around the
edges of the stone to the humming rhythm of its heart.
“Holy...”
I breathed. It was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen.
“Hey,
what on earth are you doing?” Paul asked nervously.
I
stood, keeping my eyes fixed on the dance in front of me. “You’re honestly
telling me that you can’t see that?” I whispered.
“See
what? This isn’t funny anymore.”
Paul
grabbed my arm, and the dance ended as abruptly as it had begun. The symbols
fell back into place, and the stone lost its glow. I moaned quietly. The
symbols had been strange, eerie, and frightening, but they’d also been
surprisingly familiar. Losing them
was
almost physically painful. I focused on the stone, trying to bring them back,
or make the slab glow again.
“So how
exactly does this thing work?” Paul asked, breaking my focus.
I
cleared my throat and tried to find my voice. “Doc didn’t exactly leave
directions in his journal. He just said that the stone ... spoke to him.”
“Well
what the heck does that mean? That stone doesn’t look like it has any kind of
speech capabilities.”
I
smiled. “Actually, I think I know exactly what it means.”
Paul
didn’t hear me, and reached out to touch the stone. “So this is it,” he said,
bending down. “This is the stone that can take us into the past.”
“Stop!
What are you doing?” I grabbed his hand and pulled him back.
“I’m
just touching it. Why?"
“I don’t
know. Who knows what might happen? Maybe you’re not supposed to touch it,” I
answered.
As he
spoke, though, a jolt of energy shot from the stone into my bones, and the unearthly
glow returned. I felt an irresistible urge to put my own hands on the stone,
and allow the symbols to race across my skin. Confused, I closed my eyes,
trying to focus and clear
my
head. All I could feel, all I could hear, was the stone’s humming, drowning out
all other sight and sound. Drowning out thought. Then it was gone, leaving in
its place a feeling of calm contentment. Of readiness. And a clear, precise
light in my mind.
I could
feel the stone beneath my hands, as though I were already touching it. My mind
explored the deep, cold grooves in the surface, and felt the light touch of the
symbols as they moved. A shot of heat moved from the stone, through my hands,
and down my spine.
“I
wonder what the symbols mean,” Paul said quietly.
I heard
him through the haze of the stone, as though he were standing on the other side
of a wall, or under water. I suddenly became acutely aware of my surroundings –
the smell of mildew and garlic, the friction of a cricket rubbing his back legs
together outside. I could taste the sodium that clung to the salt water embedded
in the concrete of the walls around us, and felt Paul’s heart beat as if it
were in my own chest. I heard sounds that didn’t make any sense. Horses
running, and the sound of metal screeching against metal.
Men
yelling, or cheering. Looking down, I
saw a hazy, half-formed path in front of my feet. Listening closely, I heard
exactly where it would lead. And when.
I
opened my eyes, breaking the spell, and turned to face Paul. His face had gone
slack and white as he stared at me.
“I know
exactly what the symbols mean,” I said quietly.
“How do
you know that?” Paul asked.
“Because,”
I replied slowly, “the stone just told me.”
Review
I
loved, loved, loved this book. My
favorite part is that my son will love it also.
Finding books my kids will like that I also like are huge for me. This book was clever, well written, funny,
scary, interesting, and educational all in one entertaining story. Fabulous.
I give
this book 5 out of 5 clouds and highly recommend it for you and your kids (a
great gift idea).
This
product or book may have been distributed for review; this in no way affects my
opinions or reviews.
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