Everand Logo

Welcome to Everand!

  • Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

    Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

    The Magic of Finkleton
    The Magic of Finkleton
    The Magic of Finkleton
    Ebook130 pages2 hours

    The Magic of Finkleton

    By K.C. Hilton

    5/5

    ()

    Read preview

    About this ebook

    Most folks say, "Mother Nature controls the rain." However this is not the case in the village of Finkleton.

    In the perfect little village of Finkleton, the weather is always perfect. Every farm grows the best, biggest, healthiest crops in the entire world, and everyone is happy.

    Soon after the Finkles inherit their Uncle Harry's shop and move to Finkleton, they discover magical secrets hidden in his shop. One clue at a time, Jack, Lizzy and Robert learn the town's amazing secret. No, Mother Nature is not in charge in Finkleton!

    Ever since Uncle Harry's death, the weather has not been cooperating. Farms are starting to fail. Will the Finkle children be able to solve all the magical mysteries before the village is destroyed?

    Come along to Finkleton. A very special, magical adventure is about to begin!

    Age Range 9-12
    Children's / Middle Grade Fiction
    Second eBook Edition 3-1-14

    Children's Literary Classics Seal of Approval June 8, 2011
    Literary Classics Finalist September 29, 2011
    Literary Classics Gold Award for Best of Pre-Teen Fiction October 14, 2011
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBookBaby
    Release dateMay 19, 2011
    ISBN9781483521893
    The Magic of Finkleton

    Related to The Magic of Finkleton

    Related ebooks

    Children's Fantasy & Magic For You

    View More
    View More

    Related podcast episodes

    Related articles

    • Article

      Homebodies

      Jun 4, 2023

      Homebodies
      5 min read

    • Article

      Good Bones

      Mar 19, 2020

      Good Bones
      18 min read

    • Article

      The Education of Mrs. R.

      Sep 6, 2022

      An adolescent shriek woke her. Cockerels, she thought, cockerels, with a wry twist to the word. She lay in the dark listening. There was no use in covering her head; the screaming still came through. The soloist was suddenly submerged in the chorus.

      13 min read

    • Article

      Euthanasia

      Aug 10, 2023

      On a frigid December morning, Hank Sanders stomped the caked mud off his worn boots and entered Discount Hardware. He couldn’t shake his cousin’s remarks. Put her down, he’d said. The words had rolled so effortlessly off his lips, as if her life mean

      11 min read

    • Article

      Confido BY KURT VONNEGUT

      Nov 1, 2022

      Confido BY KURT VONNEGUT
      13 min read

    • Article

      Dalek Hunter

      May 17, 2023

      Dalek Hunter
      6 min read

    • Article

      Hidden Gems

      Apr 2, 2023

      Hidden Gems
      8 min read

    • Article

      Quiet Night

      Aug 7, 2023

      Quiet Night
      19 min read

    • Article

      Never A Dull Moment

      Mar 17, 2023

      Never A Dull Moment
      7 min read

    • Article

      The Power Of One Book

      Jun 8, 2023

      The Power Of One Book
      5 min read

    • Article

      Come with Me

      Dec 1, 2022

      Come with Me
      12 min read

    • Article

      How I Met My Pet

      Apr 24, 2020

      How I Met My Pet
      2 min read

    • Article

      Henrietta and Her Moths

      Sep 1, 2022

      ANDREA BARRETT is the author of Archangel (a finalist for the Story Prize), Servants of the Map (a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize), Ship Fever (winner of the National Book Award), and other books. This story will appear in her forthcoming collection

      19 min read

    • Article

      Clearing out Kiwi homes ‘YOUR JUNK IS MY TREASURE!’

      Dec 11, 2022

      It’s not a job for the faint-hearted. Decades of rubbish piled high, dead rats (and live ones), human waste… In the 17 years Fionna Gotts has been running a waste removal and house clearance company in Auckland, she’s seen some pretty horrific sights

      3 min read

    • Article

      Cricket League

      Sep 1, 2022

      First prize 10 and under Tang Li, age 9 Palmetto Bay, FL My name is Anisa. I was in Hawaii on vacation. I enjoyed sipping refreshing drinks, overlooking the turquoise ocean, and dancing with others, before I overheard that the priceless Fire Ring wa

      10 min read

    • Article

      The Dispatch

      Dec 28, 2022

      Housing First is a model that is proving effective in dealing with homelessness. It certainly worked for Larry Andersson, 54, who sells Swedish street paper Faktum in Gothenburg By Malin Clausson “I really don’t know what to say. I could scarcely be

      8 min read

    • Article

      Collecting The Collector

      May 28, 2020

      Collecting The Collector
      5 min read

    • Article

      Appreciating Hate

      Sep 10, 2021

      Felix thought of his mind as though it were artwork – a painting. His skull was the frame, the canvas inside the frame was the grey matter, the applied paint was his education, and that insubstantial feeling evoked by the art piece was his consciousn

      7 min read

    • Article

      Cricket League

      Jan 1, 2020

      Ivy Lugbill, age 8 Indianapolis, IN I was so excited! My dad and I were going camping! After we packed all our stuff, my dad said, “Hop in!” I grabbed the paper towel roll binoculars I had been making and jumped into the car. It was a really . . . re

      7 min read

    • Article

      Rent Arlington Hall’s Brain: The implant would make him a brilliant pianist for 24 hours.

      Jan 15, 2015

      Eight Hours To Go Thorne hesitated. The clinic’s storefront consisted of a glass elevator that went only down. Below the earth, into the unknown. A sign on its door read in elegant silver script: “Rent a Brain Today, Genius Guaranteed.” Thorne could

      14 min read

    • Article

      The First Day: One man’s walk to his own cremation.

      Aug 7, 2014

      The fog was thick when I left my bedsit and ventured out alone into the barren and murky city. I was heading for what used to be called a crematorium and these days is known as a funeral parlor. I had received a notice instructing me to arrive by 9 a

      15 min read

    • Article

      On Being a Trend

      Apr 30, 2018

      1. I recently bought some Tupperware with a similar mindset to that of the people who prepare their sports clothes the night before so that exercising is not a decision but a given, as if the presence of the clothes outside the wardrobe were a cataly

      6 min read

    • Article

      Drawing The Line

      Jul 14, 2021

      THE Fourth of July came and went without me roaming in the attic for my Stars and Stripes. Considering how long it took me to find a 100% cotton flag with a diminutive ‘Made in the USA’ label in the seam, you’d think I’d make the effort. For years, t

      3 min read

    • Article

      Breaking Good

      Aug 19, 2020

      Breaking Good
      12 min read

    • Article

      Breaking Good

      Aug 19, 2020

      Breaking Good
      12 min read

    • Article

      An Unspeakable Life

      Jan 10, 2022

      It was a perfect fall afternoon when Muriel found out she was pregnant. Tourists snatched up apple cider by the gallon at farm stands. Leaf peepers stood on the side of the road with their cameras aimed in all directions; wherever you looked, a quint

      12 min read

    • Article

      Can’t Take It With You

      Apr 10, 2022

      Can’t Take It With You
      8 min read

    Related categories

    Reviews for The Magic of Finkleton

    5/5

    2 ratings0 reviews

    What did you think?

    Tap to rate

    Review must be at least 10 words

      Book preview

      The Magic of Finkleton - K.C. Hilton

      alive.

      **

      Prologue

      Nestled in the lush countryside of England existed a mysterious place called Finkleton. Finkleton was too small to be considered a town. It was so tiny it couldn’t even be located on a map.

      But Finkleton was a thriving, self-sufficient community. Every year all its farms overflowed with delicious fruits and vegetables. The farmers traded and sold their produce with each other, and then sold any excess crops at markets in nearby towns.

      The weather in Finkleton was perfect for each farmer—so perfect, in fact, that no farmer had ever wanted to move away.

      Sometimes outsiders tried to persuade farmers to sell their land. The farmers would tell them no, but the outsiders would keep trying to change their minds.

      Some folks say Finkleton is home to the luckiest lands in England. Others shrug and say instead that it is a magical place.

      **

      Chapter 1

      Uncle Harry Finkle

      Take desperate measures when needed.

      -Harry Finkle

      A short, stocky middle-aged man with a stubbly beard stormed through the shop door, letting it slam behind him. He grasped his hat with both hands, squeezing it so hard his knuckles turned white, then yanked it off his head and started to yell.

      Finkle! Finkle! Where are you, Finkle? The man’s beady eyes scanned the general store.

      Mr. Harry Finkle had recently turned 82 years old. Harry shaved his winter-white whiskers every morning before eating breakfast but never seemed to have enough time to visit the local barber. As a result, his shaggy white mop of hair never got trimmed.

      Harry lived in Finkleton his entire life. He’d inherited the general store from his father, who in turn had inherited it from his father. The general store was in the Finkle family since Harry’s great-great-grandfather Howard had built it, many years before.

      Howard Finkle once owned most of the land in Finkleton. He wanted to live in a small community but refused to leave his beautiful land. He therefore decided to sell off sections of his property to other farmers. That was how Finkleton was born.

      Harry strolled casually from behind a store display and lifted one of his fuzzy eyebrows inquisitively.

      What can I do for you on this lovely day, Mr. Cornerly? he asked with a warm smile.

      Mr. Cornerly raised his voice again. My crops are on the brink of ruin! Mr. Cornerly hung his head and sniffed, then wiped his nose with a crumpled handkerchief that he’d removed from the pocket of his trousers. What I need is advice. I don’t know what to do anymore.

      I’m sure everything will be just fine, Andrew. You know our weather here in Finkleton. Our crops are the most fruitful and delicious in all of England. Harry smiled and patted Mr. Cornerly on the shoulder.

      Mr. Cornerly finished wiping his nose and shoved the handkerchief back into the pocket of his trousers, then began to fumble with the hat he still held in one hand. He did not say a word and continued to look at the floor.

      Harry kept smiling. I am positive all will be well in a day or so. You worry too much, my friend. Your crops have never failed before, and I don’t expect they will fail now.

      Harry’s voice was encouraging enough to persuade Mr. Cornerly to look up. I certainly hope you are right, Finkle. I hope you are right. Mr. Cornerly placed his hat back on top of his head, then turned and stomped out of the store, once again allowing the door to slam behind him.

      With no customers in the shop, Harry hung a small, tattered sign in the window that read Back in 10 minutes.

      Harry walked behind the store counter, where he faced a door. He opened it to reveal a large storage room with three additional doors. Harry went to the third door on the left and fumbled to unlock it with an old skeleton key.

      When its latch clicked open, Harry slowly pushed the creaking door forward until he had just enough space to walk through. He stepped into a room that needed cleaning very badly. Cobwebs stretched across the ceiling, and a thick layer of dust coated the floor and the room’s contents. Dust particles floated in the air, dancing in rays of sunshine that streamed through a grimy, high-arched window.

      The room was filled with scores of old, dusty hourglasses, all the same size. They sat in rows on long wooden shelves, with five shelves stacked atop each other on every wall. Each hourglass had its own yellowed label on the front, and a string and small protractor attached. The hourglasses were tilted at different angles; not one was entirely upright.

      All the strings connected to the hourglasses met at a clock dial in the center of the room where they were woven together. They went through the top of the dial and disappeared through the ceiling.

      Harry examined a worn-out string and chuckled. Oh Andrew, you were so right, he thought. The string was intricately intertwined and attached to a small mechanical hourglass labeled AC-Corn.

      Don’t you worry, Harry said to the hourglass. I will fix you right up, and all will be right as rain. You will see, my friend. You will see. Harry smiled as he hummed a soft tune.

      He unrolled and measured some string from a ball that had been lying on a dusty old desk. Next to the string sat a pair of shears, a protractor and a well-used leather journal.

      Harry’s fragile old hands worked carefully, beginning the task of replacing the brittle piece of string with a new one. The first step was to tie one end of the new string to the side of the hourglass. This had to be done before he could remove the worn-out strand.

      Oh, my dear friends, Harry said to all the hourglasses. Soon my family will come to take care of you and things like this won’t happen. My brain is getting tired and I regrettably forget many important tasks. Harry frowned, concentrating on the string.

      They haven’t been here to visit in ages. We must get everything in tip-top shape for them. We shall begin first thing in the morning. Harry smiled, then resumed humming as he worked.

      Suddenly Harry’s hands began to tremble. Startled, he gently set the other end of the string down in front of the hourglass and took a slow, deep breath. He grabbed his chest and spoke out loud in a raspy voice.

      No. Not now. There is still too much to do. I need more time, Harry begged. I need more time.

      Harry slowly turned to his left. Carefully holding his pained body upright, he grabbed a wooden chair for support before proceeding. Harry took small steps, shuffling toward an hourglass perched on a small shelf away from all the others. The writing on its label read WF.

      Harry cautiously unhooked the string from the hourglass, but the abrupt pain in his chest persisted and started to burn. He staggered back, accidentally pulling the string and snapping it in two as he fell to the floor.

      He glanced up at the hourglass. It had been accidentally flipped upside down and was tilted on its quarter. The broken string dangled along the side of the hourglass frame.

      I am sorry, Harry whispered.

      Far away in the town of Bath, storm clouds began to move through the sky at a rapid pace, hiding the sun from view.

      Rain pelted the earth, falling as exceptionally large drops. Water appeared almost instantly, filling roadways and flowing through town like an angry stream. Thunder roared through the sky, and fierce lightning cracked like a whip against the whistling winds.

      Just on the outside of town was a two-story cottage on top of a hill. Lightning struck the cottage relentlessly until it became engulfed in a blazing fire.

      The instant the fire appeared, the rain slowed, and then stopped. The clouds drifted apart and dissipated. Sunshine once again filled the sky.

      Without the rain to hold them back, the flames feasted upon the house. It promptly burned to the ground.

      **

      Chapter 2

      Leaving Bath

      Moving can be a new adventure.

      -Harry Finkle

      Mother, must we really move so far away from Bath? All of my friends are here. I’ve never even heard of Finkleton, and neither have they, Jack said, rolling his eyes. He was helping to load the wagon for their journey across England to their new home. The horses tossed their heads, impatient to get on the road.

      Yes, my love. We have no other place to go. It was a sad day when we were notified by the solicitor that your father’s uncle had passed away, Emma said, then paused in thought and frowned. And on the very same day that our home burned to ashes. It was such a strange coincidence. I still can’t get my head around it. Emma Finkle shook her head slightly and placed a hand on her son’s shoulder.

      "On the brighter side, Uncle Harry left his home and shop to us. I believe that must be

      Enjoying the preview?
      Page 1 of 1