“You hit him!” I screamed.
He stared at me in shock.
Rounding the front of the truck, I expected to see Crank lying mangled on the road. He wasn’t there.
“Hit who, mister?” The driver looked at me as if I were a madman. “I didn’t hit anyone,” he said. “I just saw you lying by the road and stopped to see if you were okay. Are you all right?
22
OPENING THE ENVELOPE
The truck driver turned the ignition key, and the engine roared to life.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked.
“Yes, I am. Thanks.”
He nodded and handed me the flashlight I had asked for. I flipped it on and backed away from the driver’s-side door. He closed it, looked at me through the window, and gave me a salute good-bye. The engine growled, and the truck pulled away.
A small stream of water was still pouring from the mouth of the cave in the mountainside, though it was nothing like the fire-hydrant force that had pushed Crank and me out into the night. I aimed the flashlight into the opening and started second-guessing myself. No, you’ve got to go back.
I climbed inside the cave. The water was up to my knees, but the current was much weaker now. I slogged against it for about a hundred yards, then felt my foot hit something under water. I pointed the flashlight downward.
Tracks.
I swept the walls around me with the flashlight beam. This was where our boat had been knocked off the tracks by the surge of water.
I turned left and followed the tracks back the way we had come. The darkness of the tunnel made me feel claustrophobic again. I shined my flashlight onto the walls and reached up and touched them. They were just stone.
After walking and wading through the tunnel for what seemed an eternity, I saw moonlight shining ahead. I flicked off the flashlight and hurried onward.
I climbed up, exhausted, onto the dock and sat for a few minutes, catching my breath; then I wrung the water out of my pant legs and shook the water out of my shoes. Glancing back toward the tunnel opening, I noticed that the pond water was layered with algae floating on its surface.
I started up the path back toward the grassy field. The path was full of leaves and twigs.
I marched up the path, expecting to see the lights from the poles around the field.
No lights.
I walked farther up the pathway, shoes squishing, and squinted out into the moonlit field. Harsh the Hypnotist’s stage and tent were gone. What the . . . ?
I followed the path all the way around the field until I reached the pine trees that had separated the field from the pirate ship ride. I looked to my left, trying to find the midway walk. It wasn’t there. Then, as I walked around the trees, I froze.
The pirate ship was gone. The merry-go-round too . . . and the Cyclone.
The Hall of Mirrors, the bumper boats, the Big Tent, the livestock pavilion—gone.
I took a few steps forward and realized I wasn’t on a walkway. I was standing on pine needles and twigs and leaves.
I peered into the open space where the park had been.
The bright moonlight showed that nothing remained.
Wait. One thing . . .
I squinted harder, a few hundred yards ahead and to the left . . . the skeleton of the Ferris wheel.
As I drew near the Ferris wheel, I felt more and more confused. Had it all really happened?
I walked around the remains of the ride and looked up to it as if it had answers for me. Drawing closer, I touched the base of the ride, trying to convince myself that it was real.
“I’m happy Mary’s family asked them to leave it here,” a voice said behind me.
I spun around, startled.
The wizard sat on a bench some twenty yards away—the same bench Henry and I had sat on earlier. A small boy sat next to him, playing with a bunch of toys.
Todd.
I stood for several moments, frozen in astonishment.
The wizard looked at me patiently; Todd didn’t seem to notice me.
“What . . . happened . . . ? Where’d every—” I couldn’t even speak a coherent sentence.
The wizard smiled at me. “It’s hard to believe it all happened, isn’t it?”
I nodded.
“Strike three,” the wizard said, grinning. “Time to go home.” He stood up, patted Todd on the head, and stepped toward me. “Do you still have those two envelopes?”
“Y-yes,” I stammered.
“Can I see them?”
I pulled the two envelopes from my back pocket. They were still wet from wading through the tunnel.
The wizard smiled at the sight of them. “And which one is Mary’s?”
“The one with the blood on—” I looked at Todd, sitting behind the wizard on the bench, and stopped myself. Then I looked at the envelopes and noticed that most of the bloodstains on Mary’s envelope had been washed off.
“This one,” I said, and handed him her envelope.
The wizard took the envelope and turned it over and over in his hands. “Ahh, to think that this envelope led to so much. To you coming here. To Henry’s last lesson. To us discovering Meg as the mistake in the miracle of the park. So much because of one envelope.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off the envelope as he continued to examine it. Finally, I asked with exhaustion, “What’s in there? What’s in the envelope?”
The wizard looked around the park, then back to me. “Just two very, very magical tickets. One is for you. One is for someone else.”
“One is for someone else,” I said to myself, remembering what Henry had told me. “Is that the invitation ticket?”
The wizard smiled. “That’s right. It’s a ticket for you to give to someone else you care about, so that they can gain admittance to the park. It’s an invitation ticket for them to experience something similar to what you experienced.”
“And the other ticket?” I asked.
“The other is for you. It’s also a ticket to gain admittance to a particular kind of experience. It’s a special ticket, however, that, if you believe in it, will admit you into a whole other level of life experience. It’s a ticket to unlimited possibilities. It’s a ticket to a wonderful world you never even knew existed. It is a ticket that can be redeemed every single day of your life. It’s a ticket, I believe, that we were all granted the day we were born.”
“What does the ticket say?” I asked.
The wizard nodded at the envelope in my hand. “Why don’t you open it and find out?”
“Really?”
“Yes. Open it,” he said.
I looked at the envelope and felt an odd mixture of relief and excitement stir in my blood. I opened the envelope, pulled out one of the tickets, and read it. It was the invitation ticket.
“Your job is to be a miracle starter,” the wizard said. “Give that invitation to someone you care about, okay?”
“I will,” I said, and placed it back inside the envelope. Then I pulled out the other ticket. The golden ticket. I read the words on the ticket and then reread them. All the events of my experience flashed through my mind at a blinding pace: walking into the park; Betty and the contract; the Truth Booth; the wizard’s speech; the Ferris wheel; my life’s themes; the screaming carnies; Harsh the Hypnotist; Gus and the elephants; Willy and the shields and swords; the merry-go-round of happy memories; the Hall of Mirrors; Henry’s ranching story; the bumper boats; Crank and the Cyclone; Meg and the crystal ball; the tightrope; Larry the Lion Tamer; Strong Man Mike; Henry’s final lesson; the Tunnel of Love.
I glanced up at the wizard, feeling an indefinable sense of awe.
“It’s your pass,” he said. “Your pass to possibility. I hope you use it.”
I looked at the golden ticket once more and slipped it carefully back in the envelope.
“Now,” the wizard said, handing me Mary’s envelope, “what should we do with this?”
I held her envelope and turned it over in my ha
nds as the wizard had done. I shook my head and snapped it in my hand. “I don’t know.”
Todd looked up suddenly. He stared at the wizard’s backside as if trying to figure out what had made the snapping sound. Then he slid off the park bench and walked around the wizard. Seeing the envelope in my hands, he asked, “What’s that?”
I stared at him in surprise. “It’s, uh . . . it’s just an envelope, Todd.”
Todd looked at it and frowned. “How come you have it? Isn’t that Mary’s present?” He glanced at the wizard and pouted. “That’s Mary’s present! I gave it to her!”
My mouth fell open, and I looked to the wizard for help. He just looked back at me as if I should say something to Todd.
Before I could even think of anything, Todd snatched the envelope from my hands. “How come you have this? How come Mary didn’t open her present? Didn’t she like it?”
I looked to the wizard, horrified that I might say the wrong thing.
“Tell him the truth,” the wizard whispered.
I stared at him as if to say, Are you serious?
He nodded and motioned for me to go ahead and talk to Todd.
Todd was clearly upset. “Todd,” I said, “I’m sure Mary liked your present. She just . . . didn’t have a chance to open it.”
“Why not?” he asked.
“Because, well . . .” I glanced back to the wizard for guidance.
“The truth,” he whispered.
I shook my head. “Well, Todd, your sister Mary didn’t get to open the envelope because . . . well, she had an accident and . . . she had to go to the hospital.”
Todd looked up, confused. “How come she didn’t open it after the hospital?”
I felt my heart breaking. “Because, Todd, your . . . your sister never left the hospital.”
He stared at me, even more confused. “Yes, she did,” he said, pointing. “She’s right over there.”
I returned his look of confusion, then looked to where he was pointing.
In the bright moonlight I saw the flagpole, six dilapidated ticket booths, and the entrance archway to the park. I didn’t see anything else.
I cast a skeptical glance back to the wizard.
“Look farther,” he said.
Turning, I looked out past the entrance archway. There was my truck, still parked out in the field. Then I saw Jim and Linda’s van parked next to it. Then I saw a frail figure standing on crutches next to the passenger side of the van.
I squeezed my eyes shut hard, then opened them again.
It was Mary.
I looked at the wizard; he was grinning. He leaned down to her little brother and said, “Todd, why don’t we let him go give Mary back her present?”
Todd looked at the wizard and said, “Okay.” Then he turned to me and said, “Just make sure she opens it this time, okay, mister? Promise?”
I nodded, and he handed me the envelope. Then, smiling contentedly, he went back to the bench to play with his toys.
The wizard stood up and grinned at me even bigger. “It’s time for you to go. Remember your experiences here. Remember your promises. And remember, you always have a free pass to possibility with that golden ticket. Now go.”
I stared back over to Mary, disbelieving my eyes. It must be another vision.
“But it’s not possible,” I said to the wizard. “She was dying in the hospital a few hours ago.”
“A few hours can be a long time,” the wizard said cryptically, “and miracles have a time of their own.” He nodded in Mary’s direction and smiled. “Now go to her.”
I blinked at him, unable to move or speak.
“Go,” he said in a stronger tone. “Make the life you deserve.” He touched my shoulder and pushed me toward Mary.
My feet started toward her, but I kept looking back at the wizard. He sat down next to Todd on the bench, and they started to play together.
I looked once more toward Mary and felt myself running. I ran past the flagpole, sped beyond the ticket booths, cleared the entrance archway . . .
Flash. A bright light.
I opened my eyes. Mary hobbled toward me on her crutches. Her right leg was in a white cast.
I walked over to her, half expecting her to vanish as she had before. I stopped just a foot away from her.
The words tumbled unbidden from my mouth. “You’re not real. You were dying.”
She shook her head and hopped the last step toward me on her crutches. Letting them drop, she looked at me with tears in her eyes. “Yes,” she said, “but I didn’t die.” She fell into my arms and hugged me; her warm tears dripped down my neck.
“You were dying,” I repeated, squeezing her tight to convince myself she was really in my arms. I thought for a moment that this was another trick of the park, but I could feel something was different—I was different. I pulled back from her and eyed her cast and crutches. “How long was I gone?”
Mary petted my face. “Forty days, just like I was when I disappeared.”
I shook my head. “No—that can’t be.”
“It’s true. That’s how I knew to meet you here tonight. When I was recovering in the hospital after you left, Mom told me I had been missing for forty days. I didn’t believe it either. But when you disappeared, I knew it. So I got better in the hospital, went home, and waited until tonight to come here. I knew you’d keep your promise to come to the park, and the same things would happen to you . . . as happened to me.”
I heaved a sigh of disbelief at it all and squeezed her even harder. “Honey, I’m so sorry for everything. I love you. I’ve never told you how much you mean to me, I . . .”
Mary put a finger to my lips and smiled. “I know, hon.”
“Oh, thank God you’re okay,” I said, my voice cracking. “It’s all okay. It’s all over.”
“No, honey,” she whispered into my ear, “it’s just begun.”
We stood and embraced in the field for what felt like a blissful eternity.
I finally pulled away from her and remembered my promise. “I have something for you,” I said, and held up her envelope. “It’s from Todd. He wanted you to open it.”
Mary’s eyes widened and teared up again. She slowly opened the envelope and pulled out the golden ticket. She read it and looked up at me with a smile. “I didn’t know this was in here,” she whispered. Then she reread the ticket and said quietly, “It’s so true.”
She kissed me, and we rocked back and forth together for several more minutes.
Eventually, she pulled away and put the golden ticket back in the envelope. Then she pulled out the other ticket. Looking at it, she said, “I’ve seen this before. I remember when I got mine—the invitation ticket.” She looked over my shoulder toward the park, then back at me. “If I had thought I could open my envelope in the hospital without ruining the miracle, I would have opened it and given you the invitation. I just didn’t know if I could. So I gave you the envelope, hoping that would be invitation enough to get you in. I guess you got in okay even without it, huh?”
“Yes, I got in fine.” I thought of Henry, realizing I had a lot to explain to her. Before I did, a question popped into my mind. “You got in with the invitation ticket, right? Who gave you yours?”
Mary looked at me hesitantly, then glanced to the ground. “Someone I met a few months ago. Someone who just showed up out of nowhere and said he really cared about me.”
I thought about who had come into her life a few months ago, but drew a blank. I couldn’t forget, though, that our troubles and arguments had begun to intensify at that time. She had started begging me to change even more adamantly. I suddenly felt an odd pang of jealousy and confusion.
“Who, honey? Who gave you the invitation?”
“Someone who had obviously been here and received an envelope with his own tickets. Someone who found me and said he cared about me . . . and you. Someone who had decided to choose a different life.”
Mary glanced back toward her parents’ van. r />
The driver’s side door opened. An old man I didn’t recognize got out and started walking toward us.
I looked at Mary, and tears welled up in her eyes as he neared.
The man walked up and smiled at Mary, then hesitantly at me.
Then I recognized him.
“Hi, son,” he said.
A NOTE ABOUT THE AUTHOR
BRENDON BURCHARD received life’s golden ticket—his second chance—after surviving a car accident. He is now one of the most watched, quoted, and followed personal development trainers in the world. Meet him and get free books and resources to improve your life at www.Brendon.com.
Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.
ALSO BY BRENDON BURCHARD
The Motivation Manifesto
The Charge
The Millionaire Messenger
The Student Leadership Guide
AN INVITATION
CREDITS
Cover design: Brendon Burchard; Cover photograph: Alicia Bock Ticket images: Siloto and Andrey Kuzmin | Shutterstock
COPYRIGHT
Life’s Golden Ticket® is a trademark owned by the author.
The author’s website: www.Brendon.com
LIFE’S GOLDEN TICKET. Copyright © 2008 Life’s Golden Ticket Enterprises, LLC. Revised Edition Copyright © 2016 Experts Press, LLC. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
FIRST HARPERCOLLINS PAPERBACK EDITION PUBLISHED IN 2008 REVISED AND UPDATED IN 2016
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.