Prologue

Hidden in the Basement

It had been six months since Abuelo passed away. Lita had been counting down the days. Her pastor advised her not to make any hasty decisions immediately after her husband’s death and that she should wait at least six months. Time was up and she had decided that she was going to sell her house and move into a fancy apartment for retired people North of Denver. Dad and I were helping clean out her basement.

              Mostly we had just been transferring box after box of old Christmas decorations from the basement to the curb for the charity company to collect. Dad met me at the top of the stairs with another box. Instead of Christmas written across the side, it had his name on it, “José’s toys”.

              “These were mine when I was your age.” When my dad says something like that, he really means those were his things when he was within a decade of my age.

              “So, this one goes on the curb too?” I joked with him.

              “No way, José!” Dad thinks he is funny every time he says that; because my name is José, too. “Check it out.” He shoved the box at me and ushered me to the kitchen. I set the box on the counter and took the lid off.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

              “What the heck is this? You were my age when you were playing with these?” I pulled out a tiny metal figurine, about the size of a toy soldier. I turned 12 a month ago and I was way beyond playing with dolls. To be honest the closest things to a toy I owned were my game system and my bike. I am not sure if those really count as “toys”.

              My dad reached into the box and pulled out a stack of books and a three-ring binder. “They are part of a game, mijo. My friends and I spent hours playing Glyphs of the Ancients when we were youths.”

              I rolled my eyes at the word youths. The book on the top of the stack was called, “Glyphs of the Ancients: The Game Master’s Guide”. It was nearly an inch thick and had a sick picture of a winged jaguar on the cover. I pretty much only read fantasy novels, so I was intrigued.

              “Okay, Dad, I’ll bite.” I took the stack from him and put them back in the box, except for that first book. I kept that out to flip through; I needed a break anyway.

              “Alright, take five. We are almost done clearing out Lita’s basement.” Dad jogged back down the stairs.

I grabbed a root beer from the fridge and went out on the front porch to read. It was the end of summer break, so the weather was perfect.