Logo of The Idea Miners series of middle-reader fantasy books, written by P.W. Cross.

Ideas define us: our past, our present, and most importantly, our future.

Last line of The Idea MinersThe Lost Lake Dig

The Idea Miners
A series of middle grade fantasy books

The Idea Miners is a series of middle grade fantasy books designed to excite and inspire readers of all ages. The action fantasy books in the series are brimming with danger and magic—seers, dwarfs, elves, bloodthirsty trolls and crazed miners—while interwoven historical facts remind the reader of great gifts to the world by the likes of Sir Isaac Newton, Wilber and Orville Wright, Charles Babbage, and others.

The Idea Miners: The Lost Lake Dig

“The Lost Lake Dig” title, a fantasy middle-reader book in the Idea Miner series, by P.W. Cross.
Logo of The Idea Miners series of middle-reader fantasy books, written by P.W. Cross.
Image of “The Idea Miner—The Lost Lake Dig” book cover, a fantasy middle-reader book by P.W. Cross.

Joey's world is about to change forever.

The year is 1750. Joey stumbles into a parallel world behind his family's farmhouse and is elated to find his old friend Ben there. Together they join an expedition to retrieve a "gusher"–a glowing sphere that holds an as-yet unthought-of brilliant idea. With a crack team of finders, diggers, seers, and winders, they face bloodthirsty trolls, an insane miner, and unrelenting hardships on their quest.

If you're up for an adventure, this book is guaranteed to thrill you. It's nothing like anything you've ever read before. This is a great, entertaining book for readers of all ages.

—Erin Doran, Allbooks Reviews

Prologue

“The reports coming out sound good.”

“Is that so? We’ve been fooled before.”

“I know, but not this time. Everything I’m hearing points to a gusher.”

“And what exactly have you heard?”

“Well, nothing specific. There never is. The miner’s keeping it hush-hush, as they always do. But he’s doing strange things. I don’t have to tell you how the logos can affect them.”

The pudgy man and slender girl were sitting at a wooden table, in the center of a circular room with a dirt floor and low domed ceiling. “But is it worth a trip?” said the man. “I assume that’s why I’m here. What’s he doing? We don’t need another superhero or flying disc.”

The girl chuckled, a dimple punctuating each cheek. “No, I agree. But like I said, I believe it’s a gusher, not a squirt.”

 

“I see. And what makes you think so?”

“The way he’s behaving. He’s comparing things. It’s said that he closed his mine for a whole day because some odd-jobbers dressed alike.”

“His entire operation? For a whole day?”

The girl nodded. “Heard it from three different sources.”

“I’ve never heard of a miner just taking a day off,” said the man, shaking his head.

“Nor I. I didn’t believe it when I first heard it. You know how the reports change by the time they get out to us. Someone tells someone who tells someone, and it gets all jumbled up. What starts as a miner catching a cold ends up as a miner finding gold. But if what I’m hearing is true—and I believe it is—it must be important. You know how they push and make the diggers work all the time, especially on a new dig like this one. Taking a day off without a good reason is unthinkable. And I don’t think odd-jobbers dressing alike is a good reason, do you?”

The girl stared across the table at the man. The late-day sun shone through a small window, warming the room. They looked at each other through a shaft of light, dust motes floating in the air.

The man cleared his throat. “I’d ask you what else you’ve heard that he’s done, but it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“I presented it to the Council two weeks ago and they didn’t think so.”

The man smiled, his teeth sparkling. “I see. So it’s all set then.”

"That’s what you get for missing a Council meeting.”

The man stood up. “I guess you’re right. See you soon.”

Far more than a fine children's book, this story invites further tales that magnify the thoughts suggested in this book. There is enough charm, adventure, and excitement in Cross's excellent writing to suggest this might just be another series worthy of a film + sequels!

–Grady Harp, Amazon Top 10 Reviewer

The Idea Miners: The Lost Lake Dig

                     by P. W. Cross

 

Juvenile Fiction/Fantasy

 

288 pages, softcover

 

ISBN: 978-0-9662800-8-1

 

Suggested price

Kindle: $2.99

Paperback: $8.99 (higher due

to supply chain issues)

 

Publisher: Appalachian House

Kindle Link

Book Link

 

The Idea Miners: The Twisted Tree Dig

Coming soon

Logo of The Idea Miners series of middle-reader fantasy books, written by P.W. Cross.

The Twisted Tree Dig

Imaginative image of the Land of Lights, the setting for The Idea Miners series of middle-reader fantasy books by P.W. Cross.

Joey gets a desperate call from the Land of Lights.

Joey is called back to the Land of Lights to help rescue a friend from a crazed miner. Together with his best friend Ben, a seer, winders, and a digger, they travel into the dangerous world of the Digs to save their young friend and extract a “gusher”—a glowing sphere that holds an as-yet unthought -of brilliant idea—from a giant miner.

Prologue

Ear-piercing screams cut Ella off mid-sentence. The focus of the Council meeting shot to a hive of activity at the top of the amphitheater. The center of the disruption was a raging tornado of wind, dirt, and debris. Logologists, seers, winders, and miners tumbled away from the roaring winds, wailing and screaming.

 

The whirling mass slowly edged down the side of the amphitheater. Pericles, the Council’s lead logologist, banged his gavel on a tabletop from below, bellowing for order. On either side of him stood Alexis and Kyros, their faces taut with anxiety; all three dressed in the dark purple chitons of head logologist. 

 

The wooden handle of Pericles’ gavel cracked from unrelenting use. The audience’s screams and the roar of the tornado continued. 

 

Pericles, Alexis, and Kyros stood behind a table, elevated on a dais. In front of them, on the floor of the amphitheater, stood the seer Ella, and Frendric her supporting winder for the Council planning session. Together, Ella and Frendric faced the oncoming mayhem, frozen in fear.

 

The wind lifted Ella's chocolate-brown hair from her shoulders; she and Frendric parted like swinging doors. The whirling mass pushed between them, tossing them to the floor like discarded trash. Pericles, Alexis, and Kyros stood firm, stone-faced, challenging the oncoming tumult.

 

The whirling wind slowed and stopped. At its center stood a seer. A rustling passed through the audience like the final gust of wind leaving the theater. Pericles wryly smiled and returned to his seat, glancing and nodding at Alexis and Kyros to do the same. Alexis and Kyros obediently sat down.

 

The seer was normal size for a seer—much smaller than a miner, but taller than a dwarf. He was slim and healthy looking; dressed in a black, heavy rough-cloth shirt and matching pants. He had a pointy black goatee and black shoulder-length hair, his hair tousled from the wind.

 

Pericles frowned and said, "It's been a long time . . . Argo."

 

At the mention of the name, the crowd erupted in furor. A giant miner rushed forward screaming, "I'll make you pay for what you've done!"

 

Argo's hand twitched and the winds returned, whipping around him, tossing the charging miner back into the crowd. Pericles jumped to his feet and banged the theater quiet with his gavel—ignoring the crack in the handle. The vortex around Argo died away. Pericles addressed the audience in a loud, firm voice, "I'll tolerate no more disturbance! You will remain seated and quiet or be escorted out of the theater!” 

 

He slowly swept the crowd with his eyes, then returned to his seat. Shifting his gaze to Argo, he said, "Nice toy you have there. The result of a stolen gusher, I presume."

 

Argo smiled and slowly shook his head. "You'll never change. I just happened to get to it before you did, that's all."

 

Pericles didn't reply.

 

Argo said, ”Like many of the gushers you do manage to get your hands on, you fail to see the potential. To you and your ilk, it's either of little use or too dangerous: something to be locked away in your vault and watched over by those who know best."

 

Pericles nodded. "Until the time is right."

 

"As decided by you!" spat Argo.

 

"As decided by the Council. The Council that would have welcomed you with open arms."

 

Argo sneered. "No thanks. Let's just say the company’s not up to my standards."

 

A restive hiss arose from the audience. Pericles quieted it with a raised hand. He grinned at Argo. "You're wrong about most things, but on that, you do have a point."

 

The audience gasped. Pericles waved his hand in warning. “But your standards, which are power and control, are far different than ours."

 

"Oh really?" said Argo. "You say that as you sit there, elevated at the table of honor, all great and powerful."

 

Pericles slowly leaned forward, his hands flat on the table in front of him. "That's not true and you know it! I work for the common good, as part of the system. I’m simply one of many logologists. It’s our job to store and analyze all discovered logos, and determine proper release times—which is critical, in the building of the pyramid, as you’re well aware.”

 

Pericles stopped, scanned the audience with his eyes, and smiled.

“But it takes more than just logologists. It’s a team effort. It takes an army of seers, winders, miners, finders, diggers, domestics, odd-jobbers, and logologists, each contributing their part. But that’s not good enough for you: being a part of the whole. You have to be at the center. You want all the glory."

 

Argo and Pericles glared at each other, then Pericles sat back and said, "You never did tell us what you call that little wind-making gadget of yours."

 

Argo shook his head and laughed. "It’s called a Climee-bubble."

 

Pericles nodded.

 

Argo said, “But it's much more than a little wind-making gadget—as you say. With the Climee-bubble, I can control the weather!”

 

The audience hissed.

 

Argo grinned. "Granted, the area of control is somewhat limited. But it's only a matter of time . . ."

 

Pericles laughed. "Or maybe you don't fully understand it. Maybe you're outside your area of expertise."

 

Argo twitched his right hand and a band of rain encircled him. Then, as quickly as it started, it stopped.

 

"And that's supposed to impress me," said Pericles, water dripping off the end of his nose. "Let me guess: the Cold Spring Dig."

 

Argo nodded. "Very good. If your minions had been a bit quicker, it may have been yours."

 

They glared at each other for a moment without speaking, then the tornado of winds resumed around Argo, and he left the way he had come: up and out the amphitheater. 

 

Once he had gone, Pericles silenced the crowd and said, "This changes nothing! Argo’s downfall will come soon enough, you will see. We continue as always.”

 

He looked at Ella, standing off to the side of the floor. "The miner at the Twisted Tree Dig is in need of your help, I believe."