Everyday life can turn extraordinary in an instant.

For Ewen “Useless” Euston, a swirling mandala on the oval, a mysterious carnival, or even a second-hand computer game can open gateways to worlds where children vanish, villages crumble, and alien threats rise.

Alongside loyal friends and faithful dogs, Useless must outwit kidnappers, overlords, clones, and even giant ants if he wants to bring everyone home.

Packed with humour, heart, and nail-biting twists, A Useless Series delivers fast-paced sci-fi adventures where ordinary kids take on impossible odds–and sometimes, saving the world is the only way to prove you’re not useless after all.

 

 

Continue the Series:

 

Chapter 1

 

This story is about the weekend that I saved the world, or at least, our corner of it. And I only became a hero because I sprained my ankle at the school sports.

“Useless Eustace!” howled the sports master as I went sprawling. “You’ve lost us points.”

My name is Ewen Euston. A bit sad about being nicknamed Useless Eustace, but that’s life.

The school sports had been Friday afternoon. By Saturday morning I was bored. I couldn’t ride my bike and it took ages to walk anywhere. I was marooned!

Mum shot past jangling the car keys, my sisters close behind her.

“Can you drop me at Brent’s place?”

“Nowhere near where I’m going,” Mum said. “I have to take Mandy to basketball and Felicia to tennis.”

My twin sisters are ten and old enough to ride their bikes, but Mum is always on the road running them around.

“Are you passing Brent’s place, Dad?” I asked.

“Sorry Ewen, I’m running late.” Dad grabbed his keys and left for his part time job cleaning.

The computer wouldn’t turn on. Mum locks it when she remembers. This time she had remembered! I limped out to find someone to talk to.

There was no sound from Packington’s yard. It was usually noisy with the yells and squabbles of the six brothers. I looked over the fence.

Dawn, their mangy old Labrador, gave a half-hearted wave of her tail and closed her eyes again. Mrs. Packington, red curls bouncing and gleaming in the sun, was bringing in washing.

“Where is everyone?” I asked.

“Gone out to give me a bit of peace and quiet,” she snapped.

It took me all the morning to work up and down the street. Mrs. James thought that Jerry might have had a football match, or was it a game of tennis? Mrs. Densti said that Will had gone on a weekend camp. Jacko’s mother said it was his father’s turn this weekend.

I rang Brent. Mrs. Beckson said he was off playing tennis. I said he didn’t play tennis. She retorted perhaps it was tennis lessons or something, but he wasn’t home.

Mum whirled in lunch time with three meat pies. “I’ve got to rush out again to help Aunt Jenny with her curtains,” she said.

“Where’re the girls?” I asked.

“Girls?” Mum asked, looking confused.

“Mandy and Felicia.”

“Down the park. There’s a rally of some kind with free sausage sizzles, free drinks, fairy floss and games.”

Mum sounded so casual. The twins practically had to ask permission to walk into the backyard. Mum delivered and collected them from everywhere.

“What sort of rally?”

“Something to do with freedom from something or other,” Mum replied.

“When are you collecting them?”

Mum ignored my question and set three places at the table.

“When does the rally finish?”

“I’ve got a headache,” Mum said, walked into her bedroom and slammed the door.

Then Dad walked in. “Looks like the old meat pie for lunch.”

“There are only three,” I said.

“I’m sure three are enough.”

“The girls are supposed to be at a sausage sizzle and some sort of rally down the park.”

“Dropped in to look at it,” Dad said. “Free drinks of rainbow lemonade and banners with ‘free the children’ and lots of games.”

“Free them from what?”

“All the banners had slogans like free the children from video and arcade games and the tyranny of the p.c.”

“But the girls aren’t that interested in video games or the p.c.,” I said.

“Girls,” Dad repeated in a musing sort of voice.

“Mandy and Felicia.”

“Nice names,” he said. “Some of your fan club?”

A cold feeling started in the pit of my stomach. Dad looked the same. Good humoured face, thinning blonde hair, glasses sliding off the end of his nose, heavy work shirt sitting over his powerful shoulders and wrinkling over the podge across his waistline.

“Anyhow, there are three pies for the three of us. Same as always.” He struck an attitude. “Three for one and one for all.”

I stamped as hard as I could with my bad foot. My ankle hurt so much I had flashes of red in front of my eyes. I wasn’t having a nightmare! This was really happening!

Mum didn’t seem concerned about collecting the twins. Dad had forgotten he had two daughters! There was something weird going on.