Norbert’s Marvellous Book Emporium #1
- Paul Jackson
- Nov 15, 2025
- 13 min read
Updated: Feb 21
The first two stories in the Norbert's Marvellous Book Emporium series.
As Enola walked through the doorway, a gentle bell rang overhead. The scent of aged paper filled the shop, and specks of dust drifted lazily in the air, only noted by rays of the fading Sun. Bookshelves towered towards the ceiling, with book spines glimmering softly as though they pulsed with life. She could hear them saying, “Pick me, Pick me.”
Displayed above the counter was a sign:
"Each story takes you on an adventure—make your choice carefully."
Norbert, the shopkeeper, was an older man with an eye patch; his one uncovered eye was bloodshot from burning the candle at both ends. He flashed a smile, revealing teeth that were yellow-tinged. "Is this your first time, dear?" he inquired. Scratching his scalp, making flakes of skin drop onto his shoulders.
Enola nodded, her grip on her coat tightening. She gulped, "Yes, my friend Emma has... visited before."
"Emma, yes, I'm familiar with her," he gestured toward the shelves. "Here, books are lived, not just read. Pick one and step into a booth. Remember, the story dictates when you come back."
She glanced over to see twelve booths at the back of the shop; six were in use.
Enola traced her fingers over an old book titled The Forest of Whispers. The moment she opened it, her fingers turned green, and the scent of damp earth filled the air; all her senses were heightened, as if the book was trying to pull her in. Alarmed, she quickly closed the book, the sound echoing in her mind like a firework. She placed it back on the shelf and waited for her heartbeat to calm.
As she wandered through the shop, Enola noticed the children’s section. “Maybe something light-hearted,” she mused, wiping her brow. Drawn by the cheerful covers and playful illustrations. After a moment’s hesitation, she reached for a faded book titled The Clockwork Mouse. Its cover depicted a tiny mouse in a patchwork vest, riding atop a golden gear through a fantastical city of winding clocks.
She smiled, tucked the book under her arm, and made her way to the last booth on the right—number twelve.
As Enola settled into the booth and opened the book, the world around her began to shimmer and transform. She was suddenly in a lively clockwork city, where wheels, gears, and cogs filled the sky, and clocks of every kind and size occupied every corner. Yet, time remained frozen. A small mouse with bright eyes and a copper tail scurried up to her.
“Welcome to Clock Ville! Enola, we have been waiting for you,” squeaked the mouse. “Ready to help me fix the Grand Clock?”
Enola let out a laugh as her worries melted away. With the resourceful mouse at her side, she raced through twisting alleys where their footsteps rang out on cobblestone surfaces designed like a conveyor belt that ran from left to right and back again. The thing she noticed was that none of the clocks were working; they were all silent, not a tick, not a tock could be heard.
The doors and windows on the grandfather clocks were neither open nor closed; there was something wrong here in Clock Ville.
The Tiny Mouse looked up at Enola, his whiskers twitching with worry. “Without the tick-a te-tick or tock–a–te-tock, time itself has stopped. The city can’t wake, and the sun can’t rise,” he said, hanging his head low.
Enola knelt beside him, her boots crunching on frost that shouldn’t have been there. “Then we’ll have to find it,” she said, brushing a lock of silver hair from her eyes. “Where was the last place you heard the tick-a te-tick?”
The Tiny Mouse’s ears drooped. “In the Grand Clock Tower, before the gears stopped clanging, the pendulums stopped swaying, and the tick stopped ticking and the tock stopped tocking. It was what kept the rhythm alive.”
Enola’s eyes narrowed. “Then that’s where we’re going.”
Enola knelt beside him, determination flickering in her eyes. “There must be a way to fix it. Where do we start?”
“But first,” The tiny mouse pointed to a circle of floating pocket watches at the centre of the plaza. Each watch spun slowly in the air, its hands unmoving. “The Puzzle Plaza always presents a riddle when Clock Ville is in trouble. Solve it, and we might find the answer.”
As they approached, the largest watch glowed and spoke in a gentle, echoing voice:
“I have hands but cannot clap, I mark the hours but never nap. Light or Dark, twelve hours apart. I don’t walk, but I can run late. What am I?”
Enola grinned. “A clock!” she answered. “That was easy,” the watches spun faster, showering her with confetti made of golden foil. But still no tick or tock could be heard.
After dusting themselves down, they rushed over to the Owl’s Roost and found a drowsy owl perched on a stack of books, blinking at them. “I can’t find my lost hour,” he hooted. “From twelve to one has upped and gone. With no lunch time, everyone will be hungry. Could you help me look for it?”
The mouse pointed to a sundial in the garden; its shadow stuck between eleven and twelve. Enola looked around and noticed a branch above on an Eucalyptus tree that had been damaged in a storm. It had fallen at an odd angle, not wanting the tree to lose such a healthy branch, she pulled her belt from her coat. Standing under the falling branch, pushing it back up using all her might. Standing on her tiptoes. “Here,” she shouted to the Tiny Mouse, “Tie this around it, it will keep it in place until it knits back together.”
The tiny mouse followed the instructions carefully. Once the branch was properly positioned, Enola secured the belt. Moments later, a shadow moved across the garden, and the sundial displayed the exact time. The owl adjusted its feathers and presented Enola with a cinnamon pastry as an expression of gratitude.
“You have proved your worth,” said the tiny mouse, “Now on to the Grand Clock.”
Their final puzzle took them to the Grand Clock’s heart, a vast chamber filled with cogs and pendulums. A riddle was etched into the brass.
“To set time right, align the three: The sun, the moon, and the smallest key.”
Enola and the tiny mouse searched the chamber, hunting high and low. The tiny mouse found a sun-shaped lever and a moon-shaped dial. “Look, look”, said Enola, “A tiny key hidden behind a loose brick.” And working together, they aligned the levers, pulled on pulleys, dialled the dials, moved some Cogs to the left and some to the right, and everything clicked into position. “Are you ready for this?" Asked Enola.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” replied the tiny mouse. Has he turned the key? They waited. Nothing happened, not a tick, not a tock, not a click or a Klock.
“Pull that lever,” Enola pointed to a small handle. The tiny mouse pulled with all his might. A hiss and whistle could be heard, then a clunk and a grind, as the Cogs aligned. Then there were more hissing and clanging and clunking. The silence was broken when the Grand Clock chimed, sending a wave of warm, golden light through the city.
This magical wave restored the energy of the city had bringing all the clocks back to life. The ticking and the tocking, the clanging of gears, the swishing of pendulums, the sound of the steam run cock-a-doodle-doo.
The Tiny mouse was doing cartwheels.
Enola just smiled. Standing back, hands on her hips and taking it all in, she could feel the air was filled with the gentle ticking of clocks and the sweet scent of cinnamon pastries. Enola felt lighter than ever, her heart brimming with joy and accomplishment. As the adventure faded, she found herself back in the booth, the magical world lingering in her memory.
Enola opened the door and found her friend Emma going into booth number ten. In her hand was Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe “Wow, what a wonderful adventure that would be,” she thought to herself.
With the Clockwork Mouse still in her hands. She felt lighter; some of the joy had stayed with her as she placed it back on the shelf.
Norbert, the shopkeeper, watched her with a knowing smile. “Sometimes, the simplest stories leave the brightest marks,” he said.
Enola grinned, feeling braver and more hopeful than before.
As she left the shop, the bell chimed overhead, and Enola knew she would return—ready for whatever story called to her next.
Book Two
Enola enters Norbert’s magical bookshop and finds her friend Emma in distress; they are both transported into a story to help Robinson Crusoe, who is injured after a storm. Enola solves jungle riddles and rescues Friday from a cave. With everyone safe, they repair the shelter and return to the bookshop, ready for their next adventure.
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Her shoes skidding on the worn floorboards, Enola rushed into Norbert's Marvellous Book Emporium. The usual magical chaos of children hunting secret stories didn't register. Her eyes locked onto Emma, who was pale as death and clutching a book about Robinson Crusoe. The vibrant shop suddenly felt cold; something was very wrong.
“Enola! I’m so glad you're here,” Emma cried, her voice trembling. “Robinson is hurt! He fell off his shelter; I think he broke his leg. We must help him!”
Suddenly, Norbert appeared. This time, the eye patch and the yellow teeth were gone, and he had a fluffy white wig and a white, bushy beard, along with a Santa outfit; his eyes sparkled with glee. Holding a copy of Miracle on 34th Street, he chuckled. “Ho. Ho, ho. Take these,” handing Emma a first aid kit, a flashlight, a compass, and a ball of twine. “You’ll need them for your adventure!”
Emma gulped. “I’ve never done first aid before, Enola. What if I mess up?”
Enola squeezed her friend’s hand. “Don’t worry, Emma. We’ll do it together. Let’s go!”
The girls raced into booth ten. There was a smell of salt in the air, and sand could be felt underfoot. WHOOSH! The world spun and shimmered, and suddenly they found themselves standing on a sandy beach, palm trees swaying in the breeze. Robinson Crusoe was there, looking sad and in pain.
Emma hurried over. “Robinson, we’re back. I told you I would get help. This is my friend Enola. We’ll help you.”
Robinson groaned, clutching his leg. “Thank you,”
Enola gazed at the wreckage, a shelter battered by the storm, its roof hanging at a dangerous angle and splintered wood scattered across the sand. “How did this happen?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.
Robinson Crusoe let out a weary sigh. “There was a terrible storm last night. The wind tore the roof apart, and when I tried to fix it, I slipped and hurt my leg,” he explained, pointing to his injury.
Without hesitation, Enola knelt beside Robinson. “Emma, can you find me two sturdy branches?” she called out. Emma hurried through the debris and climbed over fallen trees, gathering some branches. Working together, they fashioned a splint for Robinson’s leg. Despite the pain, Robinson managed a grateful smile. “That was quick thinking,” he said.
Suddenly, Enola looked around. “Wait, where’s Friday?”
Robinson sighed again and pointed to the dark jungle. “He went to the cave for supplies, but he didn’t come back."
Emma said. “We’ll go and find him. Where is the cave?
Robinson pointed to the jungle. “Near the old oak right in the centre of the Island, but you will have to solve a few riddles, or the jungle won’t let you in,”
“Ok, how do I get there and how do I find the riddles?” Enola asked.
Robinson nudged himself up “Take the path for one hundred steps, then fifty steps east. You will see the first riddle. Good luck, Enola, and Godspeed.”
Enola stood tall. “I’ll go! I love riddles. Emma, stay here and look after Robinson.”
Emma frowned. “Be careful, Enola!”
Enola grinned. “I will. I’ve got the supplies and my wits!” Enola hugged Emma, picking up the first aid box, flashlight and the compass. She took a deep breath and walked into the Jungle, pushing aside thick vines and leaping over tangled roots. The air was hot and sticky, and strange animal calls echoed all around. Counting as she went, “Ninety-eight, Ninety-nine, One hundred. Checking the compass, Enola turned to the east and started to count to fifty.
At fifty steps, she stopped checking all around her. The trees, the beautiful flowers, the smells, and the sounds of the jungle were really something. “Right where is this riddle?” Enola looked around, lifting leaves, pushing back branches, pushing away a few spiders and a centipede. “There it is.” She saw writing scribbled into the trunk of a tree, kneeling to get a better look, but it was too dark in the jungle. Then she remembered the flashlight, taking it out of a pocket and turning it on, she read.
“I twist, and I turn, hidden from sight, Holding the forest with all my might.”
Enola stood up, pondered on the riddle, as she did, she looked around, “Twist and turn, hidden from sight. Hidden from sight,” she looked down to the ground, “Roots, roots” she shouted. “The answer is Roots”.
Suddenly, a colourful parrot swooped down, squawking and flapping his wings. “Caw, caw, this way, this way, caw, caw, follow me, follow me.”
Enola felt ten feet tall as she followed the parrot, ducking under branches and hopping over logs “Caw, caw, follow me, follow me,” he kept saying, as they went deeper into the jungle.
“Wait, wait,” she shouted to the parrot. “I need a break.”
The Parrot hopped on a few branches back to Enola, “Caw, caw, we’re here, don’t worry, cross the stream, solve the riddle, cross the stream.”
With her hands on her hips, Enola looked around for the next riddle. “There you are” was scribbled on a rock.
I can run but never walk; I have a mouth but never talk; I have a bed but never sleep.
What am I -
Enola laughed. “That was way too easy, a river!” She called out.
With a loud creak, above her. “Whoa!” She turned at the sound of branches snapping and leaves falling on her. A drawbridge was being lowered from above. “What’s this?” She wondered.
“Caw, this is the bridge, the bridge to cross the stream caw, caw,” the parrot said as he flew away.
“But what about the next riddle?” she shouted..., too late, the parrot was gone. The drawbridge fell to the ground. It made Enola jump, “What the Eck?” she shouted, but nobody heard her. Checking the bridge was safe, she eased her way onto the drawbridge.
Halfway across, she slipped but grabbed the rope just in time! Steading herself with each small step, she kept her eyes forward. Hearing the water rush past was enough for her. On reaching the other side, she let out a big breath and sighed. The adrenaline from crossing the swaying drawbridge still tingled in her fingertips. For a moment, Enola just stood there, listening to the rush of the river below and the distant calls of jungle birds.
The air was thick and humid, clinging to her skin, and her heart pounded in her chest.
She checked her supplies, making sure the first aid kit and compass and flashlight were still secure in her bag. “No turning back now,” she murmured, determination flickering in her eyes. Somewhere ahead, Friday was out there, possibly injured, and Enola knew she couldn’t let him down.
As Enola sat on the mossy ground, catching her breath, she noticed a lizard on the path staring at her with bright, curious eyes. The lizard darted forward, then paused, turned and ran away a few feet, stopped, turned and looked at Enola, as if waiting for her to follow.
With one last look at the river, she pressed on after the Lizard, her footsteps muffled by the thick carpet of leaves. Each step forward filled her with a mix of fear and excitement; she was ready for whatever challenge the jungle would throw at her next.
Soon, the path narrowed, and the jungle grew darker. Up ahead, Enola saw the lizard sitting on top of a large rock. Carved into it was another riddle:
“The more you make, the more you leave behind. What are they?”
Enola grinned. “The more you make, the more you leave behind, Emm, the more you make,” looking around and down on the jungle floor, she saw them. “Footsteps!” she called out. Instantly, a series of footsteps appeared in the ground, leading on a different path further into the jungle. The Lizard smiled at her and turned and headed off into the jungle, “Well, I guess I’m following you,” she said to the Lizard.
After about thirty minutes of being battered by leaves and branches, Enola soon found herself standing next to the biggest Oak she had ever seen. Just past it was the entrance to a dark cave, blocked by a heavy boulder.
On the boulder, another riddle was etched:
“To find the friend you seek inside, look for where the shadows hide.
Where water drips, and echoes play, your lost companion waits for you today.”
Enola read the riddle aloud, thinking hard. “Seek inside, Shadows hide, water dripping, echoes play… It must be the deepest part of the cave; the answer is Cave.”
The rustle of leaves made her turn to her right. She spotted a narrow passage leading further into the darkness, hidden by vines, that wasn’t there before she solved the riddle. Enola switched on her flashlight and squeezed through, calling out, “Friday? Are you here? Friday? Are you here?”
A faint voice echoed, “Over here!”
Enola hurried deeper into the cave, her light casting dancing shadows across the walls. She soon found Friday sitting on a rock, his ankle wrapped in a torn piece of cloth and tied with a vine. He looked tired but managed a grateful smile when he saw her.
“Hello, my name is Enola. Robinson, your friend, has injured himself, so I came to look for you”
“Enola! Thank you, I hurt my ankle and couldn’t get back. I’m so glad you found me. But Robinson, what happened?”
Enola knelt beside him. “Don’t worry, Friday. Emma, my friend, is with Robinson and they are both safe. Let’s get you patched up and back to the beach.” She used some of the supplies from Norbert’s first aid box to make Friday more comfortable.
Together, they made their way out of the cave, following the lizard back along the jungle path. After walking the bridge one at a time, they rested for a while. Then Enola counted the fifty steps, then turned south for the last one hundred, walking out into the sunlight. Enola saw Emma and Robinson waiting on the shore, waving excitedly.
All friends now reunited, and with Friday safe, they soon made easy work of mending the shelter. After saying their goodbyes, Enola and Emma returned through booth ten, the world shimmering and shifting until they were back in Norbert’s Marvellous Book Emporium. Norbert greeted, this time dressed as a knight in shining armour. “Well done, Enola. Sometimes, the greatest adventures are the ones where you help others and solve a few riddles along the way.” Enola smiled.
As the images faded, Emma replaced the book on the shelf. Norbert, the shopkeeper, opened the door to booth number two, and three boys from her school, all dressed as Vikings, came out laughing, showing they had had a good adventure.
Enola and Emma left the shop together, excited about their next visit, and ready for whatever story called to them.
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