The Best Law of Attraction Book for Children You’ve Never Read (Chapter 3)
THE BEST LAW OF ATTRACTION BOOK FOR CHILDREN YOU’VE NEVER READ
Please find below the complete third chapter of Cory Groshek‘s debut, middle grade children’s book, Breaking Away: Book One of the Rabylon Series. It is being provided to you free-of-charge by the author, exclusively through this site and courtesy of Manifestation Machine Books, because the author believes the information contained within the book is simply too important to be given only to those of us (parents, guardians, caretakers, and children) who can afford to pay for it.
(PLEASE NOTE: This book is copyrighted by Cory Groshek and all rights with regards to it are reserved. Accordingly, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews) without written permission of the publisher (Manifestation Machine). For information regarding permission, write to: Manifestation Machine, Attention: Permissions Department, 300 Packerland Dr # 13464, Green Bay, WI 54307.)
This book, which was written over the course of about 2.5 years by Groshek, encapsulates Groshek’s entire philosophy with regards to dreaming big, taking risks, trusting our gut, and choosing faith over fear in all that we do. Furthermore, the book brings together lessons about the Law of Attraction, the principles of Hermetic philosophy, and the teachings of Jesus Christ relative to abundance in a way that no other book in history has.
Whether we regard this book simply as a “Law of Attraction book for kids”, a self-help book for children cleverly disguised as an action-adventure, or a distinctly spiritual slant on classic storytelling (all of which are accurate descriptions), the fact remains that Breaking Away: Book One of the Rabylon Series stands as the one and only Law of Attraction book in existence today which puts the Law into language our children can understand. It is a must-read for anyone, parent or child, who dreams of someday finding their own abundance on the other side of the obstacles that stand between us and our dreams and should be required reading in every elementary school on Earth.
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BREAKING AWAY: BOOK ONE OF THE RABYLON SERIES (Chapter 3)
After dinner, Remy and Rhea climbed the wooden ladder near the kitchen to the loft. At the top of the ladder, they pushed up on a small, wooden hatch door, climbed through, and shut the door behind them.
The loft was a triangular, windowless space just below the roof and far too small for anyone besides the two bunnies to stand up inside of. At one end, which was much more cramped than the other due to the angle of the roof, lay an old, wooden chest with a dome-shaped lid covered in dust. At the other were two beds made of straw where the bunnies slept. And finally, pressed against the center of the far wall was a dusty, three-tiered bookshelf covered in cobwebs.
It was very dark inside the loft, but Remy knew the space like the back of his paw. He felt his way along the roof and found a spot in it where a section of its bottom layer of wood slats had been cut out, revealing an upper layer of birch bark shingles. He reached up into the opening and pushed aside a few of the shingles and, suddenly, the loft was flooded with the bluish-gray glow of the moon and a hint of cool, summery air. Rhea made her way to the bookshelf and retrieved one of its only two books from the top shelf. The book, unlike the shelf, was completely dust-free.
“The Great Book of Rabylon,” Remy fumed as he waved at the book in his sister’s paw. “Everything always comes back to that!”
All bunnies were given copies of The Great Book when they entered school. During their first year of classes, it introduced them to Monty Cottonsworth III and taught them about the Mayor’s father and grandfather, as well as Rabylon’s ‘rich and storied history’ and the laws of their village. In subsequent years, it taught them about the only form of art the Mayor considered worthy of teaching: The art of planting, growing, and harvesting carrots.
Rhea flipped her copy open and leafed randomly through a few of its pages, “This book is so boring. There’s nothing in it about poetry.”
“Or painting!” added Remy.
Rhea shut the book and stared at its crimson red cover and golden lettering. “’The Great Book of Rabylon’,” she read aloud with a sneer, “’Written by Monty Cottonsworth I, with additions by Monty Cottonsworth II and Monty Cottonsworth III’.”
Remy threw himself frustratedly onto his bed. “I don’t think there’s anything great about The Great Book at all—or its writers!”
Rhea sighed, “Aren’t there any other books we could read?”
Suddenly Remy’s eyes lit up and he sat up sharply. “I don’t know—but I bet you Grandpa does!”
Rhea crept to the hatch door and laid one of her ears flat against it. She listened quietly for a moment for any signs that her family was still awake. Save for the sound of some shingles shaking ever so slightly in the breeze, she heard nothing. She eased open the door and she and her brother slowly and quietly made their way down the ladder to the dining area.
As they reached the bottom of the ladder, they could make out the familiar shape of Grandfather Otis sleeping in the corner of the living room, curled up on his makeshift bed. Then they glanced toward their parents’ bedroom and noticed that its door was shut. Had there been any light spilling out from under it—a sure sign that their parents were awake—they may have decided to retreat back to the loft but, alas, all was dark, and so they were safe to proceed.
They crept cautiously through the dining area, past the kitchen table, and across the earthen living room floor to their grandfather’s bedside. There they stood silent for a moment or two, observing the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He looked so very peaceful, so guilt-free and unashamed, that they were reluctant to wake him—but wake him they had to, lest they would never find the answers to their questions that they so desperately needed. They dropped onto all fours and leaned in close to their grandfather.
“Grandpa,” whispered Rhea. She gently touched one of his arms. “Grandpa, wake up.”
Grandfather Otis groaned and turned toward the bunnies. He blinked once and then twice more as he strained to focus his eyes. “Who—who’s there?” he asked groggily. “My grandbunnies, is that you?”
“Yes, Grandpa, it’s us,” whispered Remy.
“Oh, good gracious,” he said quietly, “You should be sleeping. You have school and work tomorrow, and your parents would be very upset if they caught you down here.”
“Oh, we know…” said Rhea, “But we really need to ask you something—”
“—and we can’t wait ‘til tomorrow,” said Remy, finishing his sister’s sentence.
“Oh, I see,” said Grandfather Otis. He sat up slowly. “Well, ask me quickly, and then you need to get back to bed before you get yourselves in trouble.”
“Okay, well…” Remy hesitated, “we were talking…” he glanced at Rhea for support and she nodded, “and we were wondering—”
“—if there are any books besides The Great Book of Rabylon,” said Rhea, finishing her brother’s sentence.
Grandfather Otis frowned and rubbed his arm, “I—I really…” he stuttered, “We shouldn’t be talking about this…” He glanced at the bedroom across the house and then back at the bunnies, “Questions like that could get us all in a world of trouble.”
“We know,” whispered Rhea, “but we have to know.”
“Yeah, Grandpa,” said Remy, “we have to know.”
“Pleeeeease?” the bunnies pleaded in unison.
Grandfather Otis sighed. He could see how much an answer meant to them, and he knew that they couldn’t get one from anyone else. “Okay,” he said, “but we need to be quick about it. Your parents could wake up any minute.” He cleared his throat. “There are other books—or, I should say, were other books, when I was your age—but they’re gone now.”
“Gone? But why?” asked Remy. “Where’d they go?”
“I’m sorry, little ones,” he sighed, “but I’m afraid I can’t answer that.”
“Were there poetry books?” asked Rhea, undeterred.
Grandfather Otis turned toward her, “Oh, yes.” He turned toward Remy, “And books about painting and wood-working and pottery, too.” He looked back at Rhea, “All kinds of things.”
“Did you ever get to do any of that stuff when you were little?” asked Remy.
“I did my fair share, yes. I was particularly fond of wood-working.”
“So,” said Rhea, “rabbits had time to do that back then?”
“Indeed, they did.”
“So why don’t we get to do things like that?” asked Remy.
“Yeah,” said Rhea, “and why do we have to do all the work while the Mayor gets to keep all the carrots?”
Grandfather Otis fidgeted and clicked his claws together nervously.
“What wrong, Grandpa?” asked Rhea.
“Little ones,” he said, “these are very dangerous questions you’re asking me. If I answer, you must promise not to tell anyone what I tell you. Do you promise?”
“Yes, Grandpa,” said the bunnies. “We promise.”
“Okay…well then,” Grandfather Otis began to relax a little, “you’d better scooch in a little closer,” he waved the bunnies to him. “I’ve got a story to tell.”
The bunnies did as their grandfather requested and their ears perked up as they prepared to hang on to his every word.
“Long, long ago, when I was your age,” Grandfather Otis began, “the Mayor’s great grandfather, Reginald Cottonsworth, was the mayor of Rabylon, and everyone loved him. He was very warm, loving, and kind—one of the nicest rabbits you could have ever met—and he went out of his way to make sure we all had everything we needed. But then, one day, he died, rather unexpectedly…”
The bunnies gasped.
“Oh, no!” said Rhea.
“What happened?” asked Remy.
“The official word was ‘food poisoning’—apparently from some bad carrot juice—but there was no way to know for certain…” Grandfather Otis pursed his lips and nodded solemnly. “That day—the day Reginald died—was a very sad day for Rabylon.” He sighed, “It was also the day that Reginald’s son, Monty, became mayor.”
“Do you mean Monty Cottonsworth I?” asked Remy. “The Mayor’s grandpa?”
“The one who wrote The Great Book?” added Rhea.
“The very same,” said Grandfather Otis. “And when he became mayor, everything changed around here, and not for the better, if you ask me. Under Reginald, bunnies didn’t have to work at all and adults only worked five days a week, with much shorter hours than we have now, and we actually got to keep most of the carrots we picked. But as soon as Monty took over, he put everyone, including the bunnies, on the seven-days-a-week work schedule we’re on now, and he also started rationing our carrots.”
“What’s rationing mean?” asked Remy.
“It meant that we were all required to turn over anything we harvested to him. He said he would personally see to it that our carrots would be redistributed evenly, but only after he’d allocated a certain amount of them to what he called the ‘Build a Better Rabylon’ campaign.”
“The ‘Build a Better Rabylon’ campaign?” Rhea was puzzled, “What’s that?”
“It was his plan to build a Rabylon that he claimed would be ‘the envy of the entire world’. He said that for the plan to work, we would all have to ‘make a sacrifice for the greater good’. Of course, that meant giving up control of our carrots to him and working much longer and harder than we’d been used to.”
“I bet that made everybody mad,” said Remy.
“Yeah,” said Rhea. “I bet it made them really mad!”
“Well… not as mad as you might think. In fact, most rabbits, including my parents, thought the idea of a ‘Better Rabylon’ sounded pretty darn good, and they supported the mayor’s plans. Good ol’ Monty, it turned out, was a very good salesrabbit. Even after the closest he ever got to ‘building a better Rabylon’ was building that giant house our current Mayor lives in, he still had everyone eating out the palm of his paw, waiting patiently for the ‘better Rabylon’ he’d promised us.”
“So, did it ever come, Grandpa?” asked Remy with big, hopeful eyes. “The ‘Better Rabylon’, I mean?”
“No,” Grandfather Otis sighed, “I’m afraid not. The way things are now is the closest we ever got to it.”
“But that’s not fair!” cried Rhea. “He promised!” She was a little too loud and Grandfather Otis had to shush her.
“I know, darling,” he said, “I know it’s not fair, and believe me, you aren’t alone in feeling that way. While all of that was going on and I was still about your age, I was friends with two brothers who very much agreed with you. One’s name was Casper—everyone called him Cas—and the other’s was Jasper, and one day the two of them decided to do something about it.”
“So, what did they do?” asked Rhea.
“Yeah,” said Remy, “what did they do?”
“Well, they wanted to make sure that as many rabbits as possible would see what they were going to do, so they waited until the mayor’s birthday. Just like our current Mayor, good ol’ Monty threw himself a big party, and everyone had to go.”
“Did he eat all of his cake in front of everybody, too?” asked Remy, “Like the Mayor does?”
“He sure did—every last crumb. Didn’t share so much as a nibble with anyone. And for Cas and Jasper, well, that last crumb was the last straw. Cas hopped atop a stump and declared that everyone deserved a piece of that cake. Then Jasper hopped up there, too, and said that rabbits that work hard should get to keep their food.”
“Oh, no,” Rhea shivered as she imagined what would happen to her if she were to do something so brazen. “What did the Enforcers do to them?”
“Back then there were no Enforcers.”
“What?” Remy was in disbelief. “No Enforcers?”
“That’s right—no Enforcers. No one had ever spoken out against the mayor like that before, so he hadn’t needed them. But Cas and Jasper, well…they changed all that. They didn’t stop at demanding that everyone get more to eat; they also pointed at that big, green hill on the other side of the forest—you know, the one we can see from the fields?”
The bunnies nodded; they knew exactly the one he was referring to. From where they’d been plucking weeds earlier, it had looked to them to be about a million feet tall.
Grandfather Otis went on, “They claimed that on the other side of that hill, there were more carrots than the eye can see—row after row of big, orange, beautiful carrots—and, get this: That no one had to work so long or so hard for any of them.”
“Wow!” said Rhea. “I bet everyone was excited!”
Grandfather Otis shook his head, “Far from it; everyone laughed at them—called them crazy and said they were lazy…said they just didn’t want to work for their carrots like everyone else. And the mayor…well, he laughed the hardest of all. He told Cas and Jasper that if they really believed in some ‘magical carrot land’ on the other side of that hill, then they had better hurry up and get over there before someone else found their ‘imaginary carrots’ first.”
“Do you think they were imaginary, Grandpa?” Remy searched his grandfather’s eyes for a glimmer of hope.
Grandfather Otis pursed his lips and paused for a second, “I’m not sure.”
The bunnies frowned and slumped backward.
“But I wanted to believe they were real, I really did. I agreed that we’d all been working too hard for not enough food—I just hadn’t had the guts to say it out loud like Cas and Jasper did.”
“So what happened next?” asked Rhea.
“Well,” said Grandfather Otis, “nothing…at first. You see, no one had really taken Cas and Jasper seriously, especially after they showed up to work the next day as if nothing had happened. But then we all woke up the day after that, and they were gone.”
“Gone?” asked Remy. “What do you mean? Where’d they go?”
“Well, over that hill, I suppose,” he suddenly became much more serious, “Now, I’ve never told anyone this before, but they came to me the evening before they left, as I was walking home, and asked me if I’d go with them. Apparently I’d been the only one who hadn’t laughed at them or made fun of their idea, and they thought I’d wanted to go, too.”
“So did you, Grandpa?” Rhea quivered with excitement, “Did you go?”
Grandfather Otis let out of a heavy sigh. “No,” he frowned, “I didn’t.”
Again, the bunnies frowned and slumped backward.
“But I thought about it—I thought about it very hard. And I almost went.” He paused, and suddenly found himself ashamed. He knew very well that almost doing something was the same thing as never doing it at all, and he wondered if he could possibly be any worse of a role model for his young, impressionable grandbunnies. His eyes became unfocused as he stared into nothingness.
“So why didn’t you?” asked Remy.
“I guess I was just too afraid.”
“Afraid of what, Grandpa?” asked Rhea.
“I don’t know… Of what I would lose if I left here, I suppose…or maybe of what I wouldn’t find if I went there.”
“So what ever happened to your friends?” asked Remy.
“No one knows for sure. We never saw or heard from them again. The mayor made a big deal of that. He said that they’d surely died horrible, painful deaths out there in the woods—probably in the jaws of some wolves—and that anyone thinking of following in their footsteps would meet the same fate.”
“Is that why there are signs with big, scary wolves on them all around Rabylon?” asked Rhea.
“Yes, my dear. I believe the mayor posted those to scare us so we’d never try to leave like Cas and Jasper did.” Grandfather Otis glanced across the house to make sure that Mama Hazel and Papa Harvey were still asleep, and then leaned in close to the bunnies and whispered, “But then the rumors began…”
Remy and Rhea’s ears perked up as they sat up straighter.
“A few of the bunnies whispered that Cas and Jasper had made it to the magical carrot land. Word had it that they’d found exactly what they were looking for and were so happy that they were never coming home.” Grandfather Otis’s expression suddenly became grave, “That’s when the mayor set up the Enforcers. He ordered them to jail anyone who so much as spoke the names of Cas and Jasper, and to execute anyone who mentioned the ‘magical carrot land’ or any so-called ‘carrot paradise’. Although he never admitted it, I think he knew very well that he wouldn’t be able to afford that big house of his if everyone were to run off like Cas and Jasper did, so he did everything in his power to stop that from happening.”
“Wow!” said Remy, “You must’ve been really scared!”
“Oh, I was,” he said, “and so was everyone else. We all knew that one wrong word could get us killed, so most of us just stopped talking to each other altogether. But some of my friends…well….” Grandfather Otis’s eyes took on a faraway appearance, and the bunnies could tell that he knew more than he was letting on, “let’s just say they couldn’t keep quiet…and that things did not end well for them. And then, just when we’d thought things couldn’t get any worse, the Enforcers gathered up all of our books to burn them.”
“Wha—why?” asked Rhea.
“I wish I knew… The mayor never gave us a reason. All I know is that one day we had our books and the next we didn’t, and it wasn’t long after that that we were given The Great Book of Rabylon as a replacement.”
“So all the poetry books were burned?” cried Rhea.
“And the painting books, too?” fretted Remy.
The two were on the verge of tears.
“Yes, I’m afraid so,” Grandfather Otis gently rubbed the bunnies’ backs. “I’m so sorry, little ones—I know how badly you’d like to read them.”
“Maybe it’s not too late to find the magical carrot land!” said Rhea, her concern suddenly giving way to rebelliousness, “Maybe you can still make it there!”
“Yeah!” encouraged Remy, “And you can take us with you!”
“Oh, no, no, no,” Grandfather Otis waved his paw, “I’m much too old for that. And with my bad leg,” he patted his right leg, “I don’t think I’d make it very far. Now, you—” he shook a finger at them, “you might have a chance.” Tears began to well up in his eyes. He placed his paws on Remy and Rhea’s shoulders and stared deep into their eyes, “Listen…I’ve spent my entire life working hard for every carrot I’ve ever had, but no matter how long or how hard I’ve worked, I’ve never had any more carrots than anyone else. I don’t want you to end up like me, wondering ‘what if I would’ve done this’ or ‘what if I would’ve done that’. So I say, if you want to go over that hill, then you go over that hill! But whatever you do, don’t you give up on your dreams just because I gave up on mine!”
Suddenly, Mama Hazel and Papa Harvey’s bedroom door flew open.
“No one,” Papa Harvey roared, “is going anywhere!”
If you like what you’ve read here today, please be aware that Breaking Away: Book One of the Rabylon Series by Cory Groshek is also available in the following formats:
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