Chapter One: Read on, and everything will be explained

The sun was blazing down upon a small suburbia with no mercy. Despite the fact that it was over-cast, it was nearing close to 100 degrees. Odd weather wasn't uncommon in this part of the United States, in fact, it was the daily normal. If you looked in the window of one of the more peculiar houses of the closest neighborhood, you would find a lone boy sitting on his couch, looking completely and utterly bored. Music was blaring from an old broken down stereo.
The boy, named Alech, looked around to be sure no one was watching him just as another song came on. It started with a foot tap, matching the beat of the song. Then the head bobbed up and down, in unison to the feet. Humming started; then quiet singing. In no time at all, Alech had boldly leapt to his feet and burst out in song, and dance. If the furniture were alive, they would have all groaned their best groan possible. Some people were "master of the dance", some were "masters of the almighty guacamole" but Alech was the master of all bad dancers and horrible singers. If the sun that day had no mercy, then Alehc had mastered that too.
Sweat beaded on his forehead, and eventually ran down his face, but he didn't care. Alech had no worries at the moment, for he was a boy that worried little, preferring the carefree way. That didn't mean he had no problems, for every person has problems, otherwise they wouldn't be people at all. One example of a problem of his was the fact that he did not seem to have any parents at all, instead he lived all his life in foster care. No one knew who his parents were, not even the agency, and frankly, it seemed that no one cared. No one really cared but Alech himself, though he rarely thought about it.
His foster parents was always at work, Danielle being a flight attendant was always in another state, and David worked at an office, Alech wasn't completely sure exactly what kind of office, for David never had time to talk to him. David worked from Five to Ten, and insane number of hours, and he was too tired to talk to Alech when he returned home. Alech didn't mind anyway, he preferred to be alone. Even though he was now parading and singing through the family room, he was a loner by choice. Besides when by himself and on the internet, he was exceedingly shy. Oh well, he always thought when grasping this concept.
There was a knock on the door. This immediately ceased his dancing and he ran to answer the door. Slipping on his socks on the wooden floor, he slammed his body on the door accidentally. The door opened to reveal a shaken and confused salesman.
"Sorry. Slipped." Alech muttered in his fifteen-year-old voice. The salesman attempted to lift an eyebrow, but Alech got the concept.
"Right. I was wondering if I could talk to the head of the house," the salesman said after a moment. Alech smiled inwardly. My favorite part of the day; messing with the salesmen, he thought. Alech accomplished what the salesman could not, he raised his eyebrow.
"Could you excuse me for a moment?" he said, putting on his best look of confusion.
"Sure!" the salesman said happily. Perfectly predictable, he thought. Alech brushed past him and made his way to the front of the house. He motioned for the Salesman to follow him. "My name's Tareq by the way." He said, signaling for a handshake. Alech shook his hand. By this time they were at the front of the house. Alech stared at the roof. Tareq stared at it too. "Is your dad up there?" he asked after a moment.
"No, he's at work."
"Your mom then."
"Nope, she's not up there either. Well, she might be in the sky though. That's her job." This seemed to confuse Tareq even more. Alech decided now was the time to reveal his plot of amusement. "Well, I'm sorry but I can't help you. It seems our house doesn't have a head."


Not much happened after that. Alech bade Tareq goodbye, and went back into the house. He took a shower and flopped back down on the couch. It was another slightly boring day. It was summer, so there was no school to complain about, and it was too hot to go outside. Incidentally, it was also too hot to go inside so he had no choice but to suffer. Curse those people that have air-conditioning! he thought. His foster parents were never home enough to care whether their house was hot or not.
After an hour of staring at the ceiling, Alech returned to his bedroom, looking for a good book to read. He found one that he was right in the middle of, which was perfect to him. The day was dying and it looked like it was going to be a rainy night, which was a relief, because the air needed a good cool-off. A clap of thunder sounded off as he began to read.

An old man looking as wise as time itself entered the room. The King regarded him vaguely, thinking it was another peasant to pester him. But somehow, the old man's presence could not be ignored. The King gazed upon the face of his visitor once more.
"You." he whispered.
"Me." the Wizard retaliated. "Good King of the Hall, I will bring you salvation at last."

Alech did a double-take. This wasn't right. It didn't fit in the plot at all. This book was supposed to be about an evil king where the rundown peasants defeat him and.this was getting weird. He had read it before and he was sure this wasn't in it. There weren't any wizards! There was no magic at all in this story! Maybe he had picked up the wrong one? Alech looked at the cover. It was the same book he thought it was. He decided that he should read on, and then everything would be explained. That was how it was for all books, for the author could not avoid it, for that was practically what a plot was; confusions, questions, and then at the end or in the middle, they would be answered. Everyone knew that.

"Don't worry. You're right. Eventually you'll understand," the Wizard said in a reassuring way. He looked up at the ceiling, and so did the King. The crown on his head shook as he jumped and gasped.
"You don't mean." said the King. All awe that was ever thought of existed in his voice. "But that's-" he never finished he sentence for the Wizard silenced him with a raised hand.
"Not now. I shall be the one to tell him. Would you mind, Alech, if you could come down here?"