The Lost Children

The Lost Children

by Donald Willerton


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At a picnic in the mountains in 1891, three children run into the forest to play and are never seen again. More

than a hundred years later, Mogi Franklin and his sister, Jennifer, discover a series of clues that bring them

to the brink of solving the mystery, only to be thwarted by a resort-building billionaire eager to sacrifice an entire

town to build a playground for the rich.

The Mogi Franklin Mystery Series features a new kind of twenty-first-century hero for Middle-Grade readers as the young adventurer uses his unique problem-solving skills to battle legends of the past while solving the mysteries of today.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781938288777
Publisher: Terra Nova Books
Publication date: 04/01/2017
Series: Mogi Franklin Mysteries , #2
Pages: 172
Product dimensions: 5.50(w) x 8.50(h) x 0.33(d)
Age Range: 13 - 18 Years

About the Author

Don Willerton is a retired computer programmer who has successfully combined three of the things in life he loves most: history, the wondrous land of the desert Southwest, and creating intriguing stories for young readers.

Read an Excerpt

Hanging from girders attached halfway up the canyon wall, the walkway led through a tall, winding, narrow canyon. It couldn't have been twenty to thirty feet between the two walls, but was a hundred feet high. Scalloped, twisted, sweeping up and around, the walls looked like the curves of frosting on the sides of a cake, smooth and graceful as if a heavenly knife had swirled its way through the rock.

The canyon became darker as he continued along the walkway, the canyon slowly filling with mist and a thundering noise. Reaching the end, a stairway led Mogi down to the gravel banks of a rushing stream, a few feet in front of a cascading torrent of water crashing into a large pool at the bottom.

The river had cut the canyon, he realized. That's why the walls were so curved and shaped in swirls. It started way out near the valley and carved itself its own canyon.

Close to the bottom of the falls, showered with mist, Mogi's senses were overwhelmed. The roar of the falls dominated all sound; the cold spray of the water covered his face; the wetness was all he could smell; and the pounding of the water shook his whole body. The longer he stood, the worse it got. He couldn't think.

He closed his eyes.

Three children at the bottom of a waterfall. Couldn't hear, see, think.

Would three children have walked into the falls?

Would they have walked behind the falls?

Mogi's eyes jerked open and he fell backward, splaying out on the gravel with his feet sliding into the stream. A man and his wife hurried over and helped him up, while a couple of kids up on the walkway started laughing.

Red in the face, Mogi struggled up and gave a sign that he was all right, then moved back to the stairs and up to the walkway, looking off to the side or down or anywhere except at the chuckling boys as he passed them by.

Still red and sweating from his embarrassment, Mogi was halfway to the entrance before he remembered the image.

Behind the waterfall.

He felt both elated and doomed.

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