Chapter 2 A Warning Disobeyed “I am Duncan Laventa, Owner of this marvelous shop. Have you seen anything like this before? ” he said glaring at John. “N..no sir it… its amazing,” replied John, fumbling in front of the owner. “You may look around my shop and touch anything you like but you must not touch that book of classified territory.” he explained, trying to keep his cool.

Once the owner had left, he glanced around the room. John saw boxes overflowing in golden sweets, shelves and shelves of books but the book of classified territory still lured him in. In the shop he noticed that a pitch black curtain stood on the south wall. John crept up to it and wiped it open, behind there was a long corridor and hundreds of golden door lined the walls. He passed backed to the book and removed it from the shelf then onto the desk.

John opened it. He scoured through the pages. He thought it was filled with pictures and words but that was not so. Inside he saw Complex symbols and calculations. It was like a maths book. But in the bottom right corner he saw a picture it was like a room and a door number. He worked out that this was a magical book. whoever wrote in it made a room but was the man the only person who could write in it?

Nearly thinking, John picked out a silver pen from the pot and started to write symbols. Curves and calculation were being scribbled onto the page. John looked at what he had written it look like he was mathematician because of the numbers and different symbols. Suddenly, the pen disappeared from his hand and back into the pot. The book snapped shut. Abruptly, the book started to glow and spin. I a blink of an eye, it stopped then floated back onto the shelf.

Afterwards, a solitary peregrine falcon flapped onto his shoulder. John knew exactly what to do let it fly in front and lead me to the door. John couldn’t resist following. Slowly, but sure we climbed the endless stairs. On the top floor a door sat as lonely a a single pebble. He stood in front of a old and flaky door it looked like it was here a hundred years. “Are you sure this is the door?” asked John. The falcon nodded its head. Its paint was flaking, the handle was rusty and the wood was rotted at the corner. “Here we go then!” Whispered John.

He stepped through the door and found himself not in a room but at a futuristic racetrack. he seamed to be in the truck paddock. John walked towards the isle of beasts. All shapes and sizes. There were endless colours. Then I felt the air tremble. He knew exactly what was happening. They were all lining up read to take on the tracks deadly corners. The track had ninety degree corners and chicanes. This was the Rohoten race track.