Imagine the best book series in the world and times it by six, that’s pendragon for you.
Bobby Pendragon was living the life of a normal 14 year old guy, until his Uncle Press appeared with a mission: protect all of time and space from a demon named Saint Dane, a cold-blooded villain who wants nothing less than the dismantling of humanity. The only force standing in Saint Dane’s way is a mysterious group of people called Travelers, and Bobby is surprised to discover that he is one of them.
The amazing truth behind this battle for time and space gradually unravels for Bobby over the course of the Pendragon books. Along the way, he encounters the kind of nail-biting, hairy adventures that he used to love to watch in the movies, but finds that in his new life, they could not be more real.
That was a quote from http://djmachalebooks.com/books/pendragon/.
Still not interested? Try reading part one of Bobby’s first journal.
Pendragon book one, the merchant of death cover.
Journal #1: Denduron
I hope you’re reading this, Mark.
Heck, I hope anybody’s reading this because the only thing that’s keeping me from going totally off my nut right now is getting this all down on paper so that someday, when it’s all over, it’ll help prove that I’m not a total whack job. You see, two things happened yesterday that changed my life forever.
The first was that I finally kissed Courtney Chetwynde. Yes, the Courtney Chetwynde of the bites-her-lower-lip-when-she’s-thinking, stares-right-into-your-heart-with-her-deep-gray-eyes, looks-unbelievable-in-her-volleyball-uniform, and always-smells-a-little-like-roses fame. Yeah, I kissed her. It was a long time coming and it finally happened. Woo-hoo!
The second thing was that I was launched through a wormhole called a “flume” and got jacked across the universe to a medieval planet called “Denduron” that’s in the middle of a violent civil war.
But back to Courtney.
This wasn’t your average “nice to see you” peck on the cheek. Oh no. This was a full-on, eyes closed, starting with tight lips but eventually morphing into a mutual open-mouth probe thing that lasted for a good thirty-second lifetime. And we were close, too. Like real close. I was holding her so tight I could feel her heart beating against my chest. Or maybe it was my heart. Or maybe our hearts were bouncing off each other. I have no idea. All I know is that it was pretty cool. I hope I get the chance to do it again, but right now it’s not looking so good.
I guess it’s kind of dumb to be fixating on the glorious Courtney Chetwynde when the real problem is that I’m afraid I’m going to die. Maybe that’s why I can’t get her out of my head. The memory of that kiss is the only thing that feels real to me right now. I’m afraid that if I lose that memory I’m going to lose everything, and if that happens then…well, I don’t know what will happen then because I don’t understand anything that’s been happening to me. Maybe by writing it all down, it’ll start to make some sense.
Let me try to piece together the events that led to my writing this. Up until yesterday I was living large. At least as large as any normal fourteen-year-old guy can live. School came pretty easy; I kicked ass in sports; my parents were way cool; I didn’t hate my little sister, Shannon, usually. I had excellent friends, with you sitting right on top of the list, Mark. I lived in this major house where I had my own private space to play music or whatever and nobody bugged me. My dog, Marley, was the coolest golden retriever there ever was; and I had recently macked with Courtney Chetwynde. (Did I mention that?) How much more goin’ on can you get?
The thing is, I also had an Uncle Press.
You remember him? He was the guy who always showed up at my birthday parties with some special surprise. He wouldn’t just bring a pony, he’d bring a truckload of ponies for a mini rodeo. He’s the guy who turned my house into that laser-maze game. Was that great or what? He’s the one who was throwing the pizzas at my party last year. Remember that guy? Every once in a while he’d show up, out of the blue, and do something amazing like take me flying in a private plane. Yeah, he was a pilot. Another time he gave me this computer that was so advanced, it wasn’t even in stores yet. You know the calculator I have that you input numbers by talking to it? That was from Uncle Press. I gotta tell you, he was the coolio uncle everybody wished they had.
I don’t know what he did for a living, but he always had boatloads of money. I figured he probably had some top-level government job, like doing research for NASA or something and it was all hush-hush. So I didn’t ask too many questions. He wasn’t married, but sometimes he’d show up at the house with some odd character. One time he brought this lady over who never said a word. He said she was his “friend,” but I got the feeling she was more like his “girlfriend.” I think she was African or something because she was real dark-skinned. And beautiful. But it was strange because she’d just stare at me and smile. I wasn’t scared or anything because she had soft eyes. And maybe she didn’t talk because she didn’t know English, but still it was kind of creepy.
I’d have to say that my Uncle Press was the coolest guy I’d ever met. That is, until yesterday.
Once again, thank you http://djmachalebooks.com/books/pendragon/ for this lovely part of this lovely book.
Edited by Jared and Charlie.