Chapter 3: A Whole Lotta Letters
Henry woke up in the basement, his body stiff from a night spent on his lumpy, moldy mattress. He stared up at the cracked ceiling, trying to shake off the lingering confusion from the day before. Nothing made sense anymore, magical letters, bouncing bread rolls, and rogue broccoli weren't exactly part of a normal life. But normal hadn't been an option for a while.
He groaned and rolled over, the damp air clinging to his skin. A faint tapping sound filled the room. At first, Henry thought it was just the old pipes rattling again. But as the noise persisted, he realized it wasn't coming from the walls.
It was coming from the small, grimy window near the ceiling.
Henry squinted through the gloom and slowly sat up. The tapping grew louder, more insistent. He shuffled over to the window, rubbing his eyes as he looked up through the dirty glass. And there it was, a letter.
No, not just any letter.
One of those letters. The ones that had been haunting his life for days now.
The envelope flapped wildly against the windowpane, like it was trying to break in. As Henry watched in disbelief, more and more letters started appearing, their elegant, shimmering envelopes pressing against the glass. Before long, they were piling up outside the window, as though a letter storm had hit Dreary Hills overnight.
"Not again..." Henry muttered, backing away from the window.
Narrator (gleefully):
"Ah, yes. Another letter invasion. This time, they're coming for the basement. Lovely. Shall we brace ourselves for the inevitable chaos?"
The letters didn't stop at the window. They started slipping through cracks in the walls, squeezing through the basement vents, and even crawling under the door. Within minutes, the basement was filling up with envelopes. They fluttered and floated like determined paper birds, each one addressed to Henry Blunder.
He backed up toward his bed, eyes wide as the letters multiplied. Upstairs, he could hear his mother shrieking.
"Get them out! Why are there more of these things?!" she screamed.
Henry's father was shouting as well, his voice booming through the house. "Where are they all coming from?!"
And then there was Clive. The last time Henry had seen him, Clive had been busily choosing which headshot to send to the morning tribune. Instead, he was in quite the precarious position.
"HELP!" Clive's voice echoed from somewhere above. "I'm drowning in letters! Get me out of here!"
Henry could only imagine the sight upstairs, Clive buried beneath a mountain of letters, with just his legs sticking out, kicking madly as he struggled to free himself.
Narrator (with mock concern):
"Oh dear, Clive's in trouble again. And by trouble, I mean a minor inconvenience, really. Shall we send for help? No? Right, let's move on."
The basement door suddenly rattled, and a flood of letters poured in, pushing against Henry's feet. They swirled around him, forming small heaps across the room. One letter, slightly larger and shinier than the rest, floated directly toward him, as if it had a mind of its own.
It stopped mid-air, hanging in front of his face. Hesitantly, Henry reached out and grabbed it.
The envelope was warm to the touch, with a wax seal stamped on the front. The script was impossibly elegant, far too fancy for something addressed to him. His heart pounded as he carefully tore it open.
What happened next was... unexpected.
The moment the letter opened, a deafening voice erupted from the paper.
"WELCOME TO THE, "
Henry staggered backward as the voice boomed, his hair blown back from the sheer force of the sound. His face rippled, his skin wobbling like jelly in the wind. The walls of the basement trembled, and letters flew into the air, bouncing off the ceiling.
Narrator (incredulous):
"Well, that escalated quickly. A letter that screams so loudly it nearly blows the roof off. Truly magical. Or just incredibly impractical."
Before the letter could finish its deafening announcement, a hand reached through the paper and twisted an imaginary dial, turning the volume down. The voice quieted, and a figure appeared inside the letter, a woman in a flowing robe, with large, round glasses perched on her nose.
She adjusted her glasses and gave Henry a polite smile.
"Ah, much better," she said, her voice now calm and professional. "Apologies for the volume. We've been having some... technical difficulties with our letters recently."
Henry stood frozen, staring at the floating figure in disbelief.
The woman cleared her throat and straightened up. "Henry Blunder, you have been accepted to Wibberflop Academy for the Magically Confused. You will begin your education in the art of magic and self-discovery. This journey may include occasional explosions, brief moments of being torn apart by magical creatures, and the possibility of accidental time travel. But don't worry, it's all part of a balanced magical life."
Henry blinked, unsure whether he was hearing things correctly. Explosions? Magical creatures? Time travel?
The woman continued as if none of this was alarming. "You'll also receive complimentary dragon insurance. Just in case." She smiled again, and with a flick of her wand, the letter sealed itself and disappeared in a puff of glitter.
Henry stood in stunned silence, his mind racing. This couldn't be real. This had to be some kind of elaborate prank, right?
Narrator (cheerfully):
"Oh no, Henry, it's very real. And you've just been invited to an academy where 'balanced magical life' includes getting blown up. Sounds fun, doesn't it?"
Upstairs, the chaos reached a new level.
Mum and Dad were frantically running around the house, trying to catch letters that were popping out of every corner. The toaster spat out letters, the microwave dinged and produced another envelope, and the fridge was bursting with shimmering mail.
Clive, meanwhile, was still buried beneath the pile, his legs wiggling madly as he continued screaming for help.
"I'm buried! I can't breathe! HELP!" he wailed.
Narrator (sarcastically):
"Ah yes, the dramatic cries of Clive, buried alive under an avalanche of letters. I'd feel bad for him... if I could stop laughing."
Just as the letter storm seemed like it might bury the entire house, there was a loud, gruff voice outside.
"Henry Blunder! Where are ye, lad? Yer comin' with me!"
Henry barely had time to react before the basement door flew open. Standing in the doorway was the most disheveled tiny man Henry had ever seen. His beard was enormous and tangled with twigs, and his clothes looked like they'd been attacked by a pack of wild animals. He had the unmistakable look of someone who had lived a very rough life. He stepped into the basement, crushing a few letters under his boots as he scanned the room.
"There ye are," the man grumbled. "Been lookin' fer ye."
Henry gaped at him. "Who... who are you?"
"Name's Norbert Splintson," the man said, stepping forward. "Gamekeeper at Wibberflop Academy. Ye've been accepted, boy. Didn't ye get the letters?" He gestured at the mountain of envelopes piling up around them. "Ah, right. Ye got 'em."
Before Henry could even respond, Norbert yanked out a battered old wand from his coat. "Right, then. Let's show yer parents some magic so they know this is fer real."
He waved his wand with a dramatic flourish, clearly intending to perform something grand.
Instead, he accidentally launched himself backward, right out the basement door and into the front yard, crashing into the neighbor's pool with a loud splash.
Norbert (sputtering):
"That… that wasn't supposed to happen!"
Henry stood frozen at the basement door, watching as Norbert Splintson flailed his way out of the neighbor's pool. His parents were standing at the threshold, eyes wide, still trying to process what had just happened.
Mum's face was pale, her eyes darting between the mountain of letters spilling from every corner of the house and the bearded man now dripping wet in the front yard. Dad, always the skeptic, crossed his arms and grumbled, "What kind of circus trick is this?"
Norbert, still shaking water from his beard, stomped back toward the house. "Ain't no circus! This here's real magic!" He wrung out his robes with a squelching sound, oblivious to the growing puddle beneath him.
With a huff, Norbert turned to Henry's parents. "Now, look, I ain't got time fer questions. Henry's been accepted to Wibberflop Academy, an' he's comin' with me. So ye better get used to it."
Mum and Dad exchanged bewildered glances, but before they could object, Norbert motioned for Henry to grab his things. "Come on, lad. Pack up whatever ye need, ain't got all day."
Henry, too stunned to argue, darted back into the basement, grabbed the few belongings he cared about (mostly old comic books and a pair of sneakers), and stuffed them into a small bag. As he re-emerged, Norbert was already heading toward a strange, lopsided motorbike parked on the front lawn.
It looked as though it had been cobbled together with spare parts from a scrapyard, rusted metal, mismatched wheels, and a sidecar that looked like it was one pothole away from falling off. Henry eyed it nervously.
"Is... is this safe?" Henry asked.
Norbert let out a deep, rumbling laugh. "Safe? Lad, nothin' about magic's safe! Now hop on!"
Henry glanced back at his parents, who were still standing at the front door, flabbergasted. Clive, meanwhile, was still half-buried under the mountain of letters in the living room, his legs wiggling madly as he let out a muffled cry.
"Good riddance!" Clive managed to shout, though it was more of a squeak beneath the weight of the envelopes.
Henry hesitated, then climbed onto the rickety motorbike. His massive frame squeezed into the small aperture, his excess spilling over the sides of the small motorbike. Norbert sat down in front of him, grabbed the handlebars, and revved the engine. The bike sputtered to life, coughing out a cloud of black smoke.
Mum's voice finally broke through the chaos. "Take care of my boy!" she shouted, though she sounded more relieved than concerned. "And get these letters out of my house!"
Norbert grinned and gave a half-hearted salute. "Will do!" he called, but his idea of "taking care" was clearly more about getting a move on.
Without any warning, Norbert turned to Henry and said, "Hold on tight, lad."
Henry barely had time to grab the sides of the seat before Norbert did something even stranger. He smacked the back of the motorbike, like someone would smack the flank of a horse, and with a sudden roar, the bike took off.
vvVVVROOOOOOOOM!!!!!
At breakneck speed.
Henry's heart leaped into his throat as the bike lurched forward with the force of a rocket. He yelped, clinging to the seat for dear life as they tore across the front lawn, letters swirling into the air in their wake.
The motorbike zoomed out of the driveway, leaving a trail of smoke and letters fluttering in the air like confetti. The remaining pile of envelopes scattered into the street, descending on the bewildered neighbors like a paper rainstorm.
Narrator (delighted):
"Ah yes, nothing like a quick getaway that leaves the entire neighborhood buried in magical correspondence. A perfect exit, if I do say so myself."
Henry could feel the wind whipping through his hair, his grip tightening as the bike accelerated down the road. They shot past Mrs. Crabapple's house, where she stood in her front yard, gaping as a cloud of letters drifted onto her prized roses.
The motorbike careened around the corner, zooming past street signs and bewildered pedestrians. Henry's heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He had no idea where they were headed, or how fast this ridiculous bike could go, but one thing was certain: he was leaving behind the life he'd known.
The letters continued to swirl in the air, catching the sunlight as they floated down onto the quiet streets of Dreary Hills.
Henry stole one last glance back at his house, which was now barely visible in the distance. Mum and Dad were still standing in the doorway, dumbstruck. Clive's muffled screams were just audible over the roar of the engine as more letters rained down on him.
Norbert glanced over his shoulder at Henry with a wide, mischievous grin. "Welcome to the magical world, lad! It only gets weirder from here!"
Narrator (with a knowing sigh):
"Ah, yes. The start of Henry's new life. If only he knew how much worse, or better, it's going to get. But for now, let's just enjoy the ride. Hold on tight, Henry. Things are about to get magical... and extremely chaotic."
As the motorbike zoomed toward the horizon, Henry felt a strange mixture of excitement and terror. He had no idea what awaited him at Wibberflop Academy, but one thing was certain, his life would never be boring again.
The letters that had haunted him for days now fluttered in the wind, slowly descending onto the empty street behind them, like snowflakes from some magical storm.
And Henry couldn't help but wonder... what on earth had he gotten himself into?