When Buddy Stebbins stumbles onto the thirteenth floor of a shabby old building, he finds himself suddenly transported aboard a leaking pirate ship in a howling storm—three hundred years in the past! Cast adrift with Captain John Crack-stone, Buddy washes up in New England, where his plucky ancestor, Abigail, is caught up in the witchcraft mania. In an adventure filled with ghosts, witches, pirates, and razzle-dazzle treasure, Buddy might be able to save his wayward ancestors. But will he find his way back to the thirteenth floor—and home?

The outcome is anything but predictable when an exhausted hotel guest sets out in search of sleep in this kid-pleasing romp full of visual humor. Will Mr. Snore ever get some shut-eye at the busy Sharemore Hotel? The room on the first floor is too noisy. The room on the second floor is too crowded. The room on the third floor is too damp. Everywhere Mr. Snore goes, with a dutiful bellhop leading the way, he encounters something that’s bound to keep him awake. Why is it so hard to find some peace and quiet? Perhaps Mr. Snore will have better luck on the thirteenth floor. . . . From author and playwright Wade Bradford and award-winning illustrator Kevin Hawkes comes a laugh-out-loud tale that plays with expectations and revelations — and reveals a surprisingly thought-provoking final twist.

Sam Wentworth is not sure about his new friends. On his first day at a new school, Sam is surprised to fall in with the popular crowd--it's all because he plays the same online video game as some of the football players. Still, he's bothered by the way they bully other gamers. When they get their hands on a pirated copy of The 13th Floor, a game banned for violence and gore, Sam and his new friends find the game so hypnotic that they can't stop playing, even after bad things start happening to them.

Born out of a union of club bands on the burgeoning Austin bohemian scene and a pronounced taste for hallucinogens, the 13th Floor Elevators were formed in late 1965 when lyricist Tommy Hall asked a local singer named Roky Erickson to join up with his new rock outfit. Four years, three official albums and countless acid trips later, it was over: the Elevators' pioneering first run ended in a dizzying jumble of professional mismanagement, internal arguments, drug busts and forced psychiatric imprisonments. In their short existence, however, the group succeeded in blowing the lid off the budding musical underground, logging early salvos in the countercultural struggle against state authorities, and turning their deeply hallucinogenic take on jug-band garage rock into a new American institution called psychedelic music. Before the hippies, before the punks, there were the 13th Floor Elevators: an unlikely crew of outcast weirdo geniuses who changed culture. Paul Drummond has spent years documenting every aspect of the history of this amazing band and amassing an unprecedented archive of primary materials, resulting in this comprehensive visual history. The book recounts the story not just of the Elevators as a band--wild and remarkable though it is--but that of the American counterculture itself: the hallucinogens, the rebellion and the truly profound music that resulted. The 13th Floor Elevators: A Visual History places the band finally and undeniably in the pantheon of innovators of American rock music to which they have always belonged.

The trailblazing 13th Floor Elevators released the first' 'psychedelic'' rock album in America, transforming culture throughout the 1960s and beyond. The Elevators followed their own cosmic agenda - to change society by finding a new path to enlightenment. Their battles with repressive authorities are legendary. Lead singer Roky Erickson was put away in a maximum security unit for the criminally insane for years. Tommy Hall, their Svengali lyricist, lived in a cave. Guitarist Stacy Sutherland was imprisoned. The drummer was involuntarily subjected to electric shock treatments. This fascinating biography breaks decades of silence of band members and features dozens of never-before-printed photos. ''One of the most exhilarating rock n' roll stories ever told.

The Zenith loomed before me, a monolithic testament to human ambition and architectural audacity. Its glass and steel facade pierced the skyline like a defiant obelisk, daring the heavens themselves. As I stood at its base, craning my neck to glimpse its summit, a chill ran down my spine despite the warm summer evening. "Impressive, isn't it?" A voice startled me from my reverie. I turned to see a man in his sixties, his silver hair neatly combed, his suit impeccable. "I'm Harold Weiss, the building manager. You must be the new structural engineer." I nodded, extending my hand. "James Parker. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Weiss." His grip was firm, but his hand was ice-cold. "Please, call me Harold. Shall we begin the tour?" As we entered the lobby, I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. The high ceilings and polished marble floors seemed to amplify every sound, our footsteps echoing ominously. "The Zenith has quite a reputation," I ventured, trying to break the uncomfortable silence. Harold's lips curved into a thin smile. "Oh? And what have you heard?" I hesitated, not wanting to offend my new client. "Well, there are rumors about its... unique design. The missing thirteenth floor, for instance." Harold's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. "Ah, yes. A common superstition in architecture. We simply... skipped the number. Nothing more." We reached the elevators, and Harold pressed the call button. As we waited, I noticed something odd about the panel. "The button for the thirteenth floor is missing," I observed. Harold's smile didn't reach his eyes. "As I said, we skipped it. Shall we start with the lower levels?" As we toured the building, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The temperature seemed to fluctuate wildly between floors, and more than once, I caught glimpses of movement in my peripheral vision, only to find empty hallways when I turned. "Harold," I said as we reached the twelfth floor, "I can't help but notice some... irregularities in the building's design. The temperature variations, for instance." Harold's face remained impassive. "Old buildings have their quirks, Mr. Parker. Nothing to be concerned about." I pressed on. "And the original blueprints? I'd like to review them if possible." For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of fear in Harold's eyes. But it was gone so quickly, I might have imagined it. "I'm afraid those were lost in a fire years ago," he said smoothly. "But I assure you, everything is up to code." As we stepped onto the fourteenth floor, a wave of cold air hit me like a physical force. I shivered involuntarily. "Good God, it's freezing up here," I muttered. Harold seemed unfazed. "Is it? I hadn't noticed. Perhaps we should check the thermostat." As we walked down the corridor, the lights began to flicker. A low, distant hum filled the air, growing louder with each step. "What's that sound?" I asked, my unease growing. Harold cocked his head, listening. "I don't hear anything, Mr. Parker. Are you feeling alright?" Before I could respond, a blood-curdling scream echoed through the hallway. I spun around, heart pounding. "Did you hear that?" I gasped. Harold's face remained eerily calm. "Hear what, Mr. Parker? Perhaps we should conclude our tour for today. You seem... tired."

Some secrets were never meant to be uncovered... Maggie May Martin hasn’t always been the most reliable woman in the world, and she isn’t the friendliest either, but she tries her hardest to be a good mom. Most days, she falls short on that too, but her three girls mean the world to her and she genuinely tries to do the best by them—so when she goes missing, they’re the first to notice and the only ones who seem to care... Meghan Marie Martin hates the small town she was born and raised in and she can’t wait until she leaves for the Air Force after graduation. Her only concern is leaving behind her irresponsible mother and her two little sisters. Meghan has practically raised them on her own and she only hopes that when she leaves for the military, her mother will finally pull it together. The problem, of course, is that her mother likes to party, so when Maggie May goes missing, Meghan not only has to take care of everything at home, but she also has to search for her mother, because Maggie May has a bad habit of disappearing, so no one else is officially looking. That is until Meghan begins to receive mysterious messages, almost as if someone or something is guiding her to a haunted hotel in Manhattan, where people say an elevator game will take riders to the mysterious 13th floor. Some say it’s an entrance to hell, others a portal to another dimension. Either way, Meghan must brave the game in hopes of discovering the truth behind her mother’s disappearance.