Mr. Willifred's Great Adventures Book 1
by Jessica Sara Campbell
Genre: YA Fantasy, Time Travel
Travel back in time to medieval London with the Willifred family on a heart-warming adventure of history, excitement, humor, and love. Meet the real heroes of the medieval era, some who you may not have heard about, and some you might know well! Watch history come to life in this action-packed saga.
As Sylvia discovers, medieval London may not be as glamorous as it appears in the movies, and there may even be someone up to no good behind the scenes. No one ever said old age is easy, and no one ever said being a teen is easy. Join Freddy, Susan, and Sylvia on a jam-packed ride of a lifetime, for they might find more than they are expecting in their typical weekday routine this time…
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The sun was high in the sky and hazy, as if covered over with a thick layer of dust―or perhaps disease and human excrement, judging from the smell. There were only a few beggars out on the street, dressed in thick skirts and trousers that appeared homemade and durable, yet at the same time worn and tattered. The compact street was not asphalt cement, but a one-lane road packed with dirt. My car couldn’t fit through here, Mr. Willifred thought to himself, shaking his head.
“Erm, excuse me, gov’ner!” The person responsible for Mr. Willifred’s excursion from his home broke into Freddy’s thoughts.
In front of Mr. Willifred, smiling as brightly as the dust-covered sunlight, was clearly a homeless beggar.
It looked like neither a man nor a woman, though there was only a small mustache present and no beard. Also, the voice was high pitched, so it must have been a woman. This person had ruddy cheeks and small, squinted brown eyes lined with old age. But there was kindness behind the lines and toothless grin. Caked dirt and a putrid smell had followed this woman to his front porch.
Freddy shook his head. Such rudeness.
Wait! Freddy looked down. The front porch! There was no longer a front porch! Freddy squinted at the ground in front of him.
Where once his cement porch had been, with the lovely porch swing and crisp white overhang, there was only more packed dirt!
Mr. Willifred felt overwhelmed with being outside in this strange new world, of smelling the foul odors and seeing this strange being before him, and was having difficulties taking this all in. He pulled his shirt up to his nose, making no effort to appear polite in the midst of such chaos, and noticed another change instantly and frighteningly.
His clothes were different! No longer was he wearing his checkered blue-andwhite button-up shirt, shiny slip-on brown work shoes, and tan slacks. He appeared to be wearing a heavy wool and cotton tan shirt and cotton slacks made rather crudely and by hand, not from a sewing machine.
“Ow are ye, kind sir?” asked the bedraggled woman in front of him. She held something in her hand, something grey and lifeless.
Freddy shuddered and kept his ugly shirt up by his nose and mouth. “How can I help you, mister…um…miss?”
“Ell, moi naime is Ferona, an oim the maid servan fer tha dwellin next door. Mr. an Mrs. Voigt wanted to send ye a gift. We awl saw ye ain’t been out in days. We wanted ter make ser ya didn’t have thar plague! Ere, we brot ye a chicken. Thought ya might be ungry!”
The woman held up the lifeless, diseased-looking, headless grey bird. Freddy covered his mouth to avoid gagging. He looked around quickly, scanning the street, the houses. He glanced behind him and saw that, much as his clothes had changed, so had the outward appearance of his house! It looked small, old, and moldy. He took two steps backwards onto the packed dirt street, head staring up at the mud-packed, rock-layered dwelling that used to be his house, and felt his foot step into something squishy, then felt his back run into a person. He turned around quickly. He had run into the smelly old woman!
“Ah!” he called out. A man on the street with a large beard looked over at him grumpily, and a dirty looking woman carrying two sickly looking young children frowned over at him. He heard a plop and saw a woman in an upstairs room dumping something onto the dirt-packed street from a copper pan, something that looked remarkably like… No! Freddy thought to himself. People wouldn’t do something like that! Freddy was quite certain he was close to experiencing something like a mental breakdown.
“Excuse me, kind sir.” The old woman, now standing next to him―too close next to him―once again broke into his thoughts.
“But ya want ter be takin this ere chicken now? I got lots of work ter be doin terday. Almost tea time. Got ter get back to the Missus and Mister.”
“Um… Yes. Certainly.” Freddy forced himself to function. “Thank you for the…bird… We will enjoy the…nourishment…it may or may not provide.”
The woman raised her bushy eyebrow at him and grinned. “Oright then, ere ya go!” She held out her hand with the dead bird hanging from it.
Freddy took a deep breath and grabbed hold of the thing. He knew his hand would never again feel clean. The woman turned around and began to hobble across the small, cramped street.
Freddy waited until she turned, then quickly opened his door, which no longer looked like his door, just a crack, ran inside, and shut the door. Before even looking inside, he threw the dead chicken to the floor. To his floor. Freddy looked around, appalled. His floor looked like his floor. Clean, white, except for the dead grey chicken. He looked down. His clothes! Back to normal! Freddy’s head swam with unanswered questions, with a longing for his old life, with a desire for things to just go back to normal. For his friends, his neighbors, his office and customers, for his favorite restaurant, and his normal schedule. His vision became blurry as he worried about taking care of Susan and Sylvia in the midst of circumstances he had never experienced. He dimly heard Susan calling out to him as darkness filled his vision, and Freddy Willifred slumped to the floor, passing out in temporary relief. Sylvia and Susan ran to support him.
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