David Bishop and the Legend of the Orb
T.C. Crawford
Copyright © 2020 T.C. Crawford
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
ISBN-13: 9781234567890
ISBN-10: 1477123456
Cover design by: Rae Merritt Design
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309
Printed in the United States of America
This book is dedicated to my wonderful wife and children, without whom I would be lost. I love you all more than you can imagine.
Map of Hurea
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Map of Hurea
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII
Chapter XIX
Chapter XX
Chapter XXI
Chapter XXII
Chapter XXIII
Chapter XXIV
Chapter XXV
Chapter XXVI
Chapter XXVII
Chapter XXVIII
Chapter XXIX
Chapter XXX
Special Thanks
Acknowledgement
About The Author
Chapter I
David Bishop stared blankly at the corpse of Tony Flannigan. He could still see the wet streak on his cheek where a final tear had run down his face, escaping only moments before his last ragged breath had been released. The blood, still fresh on his scalp, had pooled underneath his head and started slowly seeping into the earth.
It was almost poetic, David thought, almost.
On the outside, David’s expression was calm and collected. On the inside, he was screaming. He replayed the moments before the accident: the race through the woods just outside the path that led back to the orphanage, the burning in his lungs as he ran for his life with Tony crashing through the thicket behind him, Tony’s hand grabbing his shoulder as he spun instinctively to throw him off before hurtling through the air and down the slope like a rag doll.
He could still hear the sickening thud and the eerie silence that followed.
He knew he could never go back now, not after what he had done. They would never believe him. Why would they? He was just a stupid orphan, and Tony - well, he was Tony Flannigan, the richest kid in school with his big house and lawyer parents. Once they found Tony’s body out here in the woods, they would throw him in jail, and he would go to trial for murder. Without any witnesses he would surely end up being sentenced to life, or worse, death.
Knowing he had precious little time before Johnny found him, David did the only thing he knew to do - run. He quickly gathered his nerve and bolted through the thicket into the deepest part of the forest. He had no indication of where he was headed - he only knew it was in the direction away from the city, and therefore, it was the safest way to go.
In the distance, David heard a chilling scream cut through the silent forest. It seemed to echo everywhere around him all at once, amplifying the sound tenfold. Birds in the canopy all took flight in a concerted effort to escape the threat of whatever dangerous beast was making that horrible sound below.
David knew that beast personally; it was Johnny Prescott, and he had found Tony’s body. Soon he would be on the hunt for vengeance.
David was lucky he had escaped Tony’s wrath – he knew his luck wouldn’t help him this time.
Johnny was Tony’s second-hand man. They did everything together and were rarely ever seen apart: football, baseball, wrestling, and their favorite past-time - picking on the orphan boys and girls on their way home from school. Orphans like David…only this time, Johnny had been running behind and Tony thought he would get an early start on their daily rounds of torment and torture.
He started with the younger ones first and that really hit a nerve with David, who, being emboldened after seeing Johnny was lagging behind, decided to take fate into his own hands.
He swung a sucker punch right into the side of Tony’s head, catching him off-guard and knocking him to the ground. When David realized it didn’t faze Tony half as much as he had envisioned, coupled with the look of pure hatred now blazing in Tony’s bloodshot eyes, he took off into the woods knowing Tony would be hot in pursuit.
Stupid, David, why didn’t you just keep your mouth shut like you always do? You just had to go and act the hero. Now look what that’s done for you!
He shook his head knowing it wouldn’t do him any good dwelling on it now. He had to get away, and he had to do it fast!
David doubled down and sprinted as if his life depended on it – knowing this time it probably did.
He lost track of how long he had been running. His legs ached and his lungs burned with the effort, but still he ran on. He ran beyond exhaustion. Fear motivating him to keep going beyond his normal limits.
Finally, all his reserves depleted, and he collapsed to the ground and wept.
David wept for what felt like an eternity - not for Tony’s premature death, or for Johnny’s loss of a friend, but for himself and his loss of innocence.
He had just killed someone, accident or not, and he could feel the impact of that on his soul. The thought of what he had done burned within him and suddenly he felt sick. The nausea overcame him and he wretched uncontrollably.
When he was sure his stomach couldn’t possibly produce anything else, he wiped the remaining bile off his mouth with his dirt covered sleeve and sat defeated, wondering what came next.
It wasn’t long before David felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He quickly looked around, alert and ready
