CHAPTER 1

The rain poured down upon the 14 year old boy, John Luck. He was soaked, drenched to his skin. He had a very witty expression about him, and his long hair was plastered down onto his forehead. He walked in long strides ridden with stability. His slight grim seemed out of place in the sleepy seaside town.

He checked his watch. 10:30 pm. Not that late, he thought. His best friend, Tom, would still be at work. He worked at a bar called “The Rat.” The bar was very swanky, so to speak, and the walls were made of wood, sanded down to feel like a baby’s bottom. Which you indeed did think it was when you were drunk.

John plodded up to the door. It was at the back alley of the pub, and the only way to get in directly to the bar without being seen. Of course you did have to go through the kitchen, but that was child’s play.
He knocked thrice, giving the not-so-cryptic code that would be used by anyone wishing to enter the navy blue door, with splinters sticking out. As he knocked, a rat scurried across towards him, and as the door opened, slid inside.
Inside the back room stood a large Jamaican man, dressed in black, smoking a pipe.

“Evening, Luca.”
“Hey, John. Tom’s waitin’ for ya in da kitchen.”
“I know. Well see you later.”
“Ciao, man.”

John walked into the kitchen with a slight swagger in his step, but before one of the 5 cooks, standing around the table smoking, noticed him, he ducked down, between the stove and the counter, a space big enough only for his thin body.

He took a coin out of his pocket and threw it to the ceiling, and as he did he jumped up and ran towards the door, leaving the cooks bewildered. The cooks could only look and think as the door flopped backwards and forwards, and John raised slowly out of his phoenix flight to meet his friend.