Hugendubel.info - Die B2B Online-Buchhandlung 

Merkliste
Die Merkliste ist leer.
Bitte warten - die Druckansicht der Seite wird vorbereitet.
Der Druckdialog öffnet sich, sobald die Seite vollständig geladen wurde.
Sollte die Druckvorschau unvollständig sein, bitte schliessen und "Erneut drucken" wählen.

The Winter Freak Show

AmWriting Ltderschienen am01.07.2018
KIDS ARE VANISIHING IN VICTORIAN LONDON. ONLY TOBY KNOWS WHY.
CAN HE SAVE THE CITY BEFORE FALLING VICTIM HIMSELF?
After twelve-year-old Toby Carter escapes a brutal workhouse at Christmas, he can't believe his good fortune. Adopted by a band of travelling performers called The Winter Freak Show who put on spellbinding shows each night, he finally believes he's found the family he always wanted. Then everything falls apart.
Children are disappearing throughout the city. Pretty soon, all evidence points to those Toby trusted the most and he finds himself caught up in a conspiracy far more sinister than he ever imagined. Defenceless and on the run, he's confronted with two options: uncover the kidnapper before another child falls victim, or stand by and watch as the shadowy criminal becomes unstoppable.
The fate of Christmas rests in the balance.
The Winter Freak Show is the first book in Daniel Parsons's spellbinding Twisted Christmas Trilogy. If you like vivid magic, fantastic creatures, and a race against time, then you'll love this thrilling fantasy adventure.
Pick up The Winter Freak Show to discover this exciting, new series today!mehr
Verfügbare Formate
BuchKartoniert, Paperback
EUR13,40

Produkt

KlappentextKIDS ARE VANISIHING IN VICTORIAN LONDON. ONLY TOBY KNOWS WHY.
CAN HE SAVE THE CITY BEFORE FALLING VICTIM HIMSELF?
After twelve-year-old Toby Carter escapes a brutal workhouse at Christmas, he can't believe his good fortune. Adopted by a band of travelling performers called The Winter Freak Show who put on spellbinding shows each night, he finally believes he's found the family he always wanted. Then everything falls apart.
Children are disappearing throughout the city. Pretty soon, all evidence points to those Toby trusted the most and he finds himself caught up in a conspiracy far more sinister than he ever imagined. Defenceless and on the run, he's confronted with two options: uncover the kidnapper before another child falls victim, or stand by and watch as the shadowy criminal becomes unstoppable.
The fate of Christmas rests in the balance.
The Winter Freak Show is the first book in Daniel Parsons's spellbinding Twisted Christmas Trilogy. If you like vivid magic, fantastic creatures, and a race against time, then you'll love this thrilling fantasy adventure.
Pick up The Winter Freak Show to discover this exciting, new series today!
Details
Weitere ISBN/GTIN6610000140213
ProduktartE-Book
EinbandartE-Book
FormatEPUB
Erscheinungsjahr2018
Erscheinungsdatum01.07.2018
Seiten174 Seiten
SpracheEnglisch
Dateigrösse373
Artikel-Nr.4093569
Rubriken
Genre9200

Inhalt/Kritik

Leseprobe

 

 

 

 
3

 

 

Toby was three storeys up, too high to jump, trapped between a vicious brute and a deadly fall. He was staring out of a dormer window. Below, the gutters were old and rickety. It was unlikely that they would hold his weight if he tried to climb down the drainpipe to the forecourt below. What he really needed was another escape route. Something safer. Maybe he should take his chances back inside the chimney. Once he scurried back through the hole, the adults couldn t follow and he would have time to re-evaluate his options. The problem, though, was getting there in the first place. Mr Snarky, stood between him and the hearth.

Get ere, boy. You had a good run, gnashed Snarky, his voice deep and sadistic.

Not a chance, Snarky. I won t let you take me back. Toby laughed out loud. He had always feared Mr Snarky but the rush of potential freedom gave him confidence.

Don t be a fool, boy, or I ll have to bring Mr Sparrow up here.

What s wrong, Snarky? Toby mocked, showing a brave face. Can t catch me yourself so you re getting help from a real man?

Toby shuddered at the name of The Beadle - the tyrannical officer of the parish that ran the workhouse. If there was one person he feared more than Mr Snarky, it was the heavy-handed Beadle, Mr Sparrow.

Toby climbed up onto the windowsill, and crouched, looking back over his shoulder at Mr Snarky. Snarky edged forward, his hands splayed, ready to catch the runaway. There was a hint of concern on his face. The workhouse was used to drawing controversy, but a child jumping from a third floor window would be a scandal too far. The whole place could be closed down. Snarky couldn t risk that.

Mr Snarky gritted his teeth. I always knew you was a wilful one, boy, but I didn t know you was stupid, too.

Snarky took a swipe at Toby. Too slow. Toby darted into action. Tumbling out of the window, he slipped down the tiles of the pitched roof that the dormer window faced out of and stopped just in time at the edge of the roof. Balancing near the guttering, he clung to the tiles, shaking as the shock of vertigo took over his limbs.

Immediately below him, in the open workhouse courtyard, a crumbling single-storey lean-to was being repaired. A tree had worked its roots through the extension s roof making it unstable. The tree had been allowed to grow for some time, and they had tied the top off to the second floor window, so they could cut it without it toppling over and taking the whole extension with it. That meant there was an escape route just a few feet below Toby s current position. All he had to do was jump for the rope, shimmy down the tree, and get onto the roof of the extension. Not much to ask.

Toby shot a glance over his shoulder, and up to the window. Snarky s face looked like a lion, wild and dishevelled. He practically glowed with anger as he swung his own leg out of the window to follow the runaway. It was clear that he was out of shape.

Without a choice, Toby grabbed hold of the gutter and swivelled his body so he hung over the side of the roof. It was a rash decision and he regretted it instantly. What started out as an ingenious plan to shimmy from the gutter to the rope turned bad when he felt the old guttering crack under his weight. A sharp jolt caused his fingers to slip. For a moment, time stopped and Toby s stomached churned. He was freefalling. Releasing a breath he didn t know he d been holding, he yelped. He had misjudged it completely and found himself plummeting towards the ground.

He stretched as far as he could, but he was falling too fast to grab the rope. Somehow he just managed to grab a branch.

The tree that mushroomed out of the top of the lean-to stretched almost to the top of the workhouse s second floor. Feeling the sinewy wood slap into his palm, Toby gripped it tightly. It wasn t enough. Simply slowing him down, it bent then slipped away and he flipped between the branches, cartwheeling through the air.

Almost at the flat roof of the extension, he smacked into a clump of boughs and crash-landed on the roof of the lean-to.

Just when he thought his journey was over, he rolled to the edge of the roof and fell several more feet to the ground.

You alright, boy? asked one of the workers, clearly alarmed at seeing a boy who had, from his perspective, just fallen from the sky.

Toby could only wheeze in response. He was winded and his whole body ached. Luckily, nothing felt broken as far as he could tell. And the courtyard gate was wide open, less than twenty feet away with workmen going to and fro to get tools and supplies.

Climbing dazedly to his feet, he squinted up at the window he d escaped through, the pale winter sun in his eyes. Snarky stared down at him in disbelief. He shouted down into the courtyard below him. Stop that boy! But nobody at ground level was expecting to hear it, so there was a delay before anyone reacted.

Toby took this as his moment and ran through the gate with all the enthusiasm of an escaping dog. He ran like his life depended on it, because it did. He darted through the bustling streets of London, and when he couldn t run any more, he jogged. And when he couldn t jog, he walked, lost in his own journey, sure that the workhouse would never find him again.

Finally, he was amongst the fortunate people of the city. He was with the people he had longed to meet every day for as long as he could remember.

As a small boy exploring the city for the first time, Toby was in awe. He was hypnotised by the twinkling firelight of the gas lamps, and the joyous music of carol singers. He window-shopped on Regent Street, bedazzled by gentlemen in fine suits and top hats, and the ladies in extravagant gowns. All of the people seemed to be encrusted with jewels, and the smell of food on the winter breeze tantalised his taste buds. Everything about London was better than he had dreamed.

His only problems were that he had no money, no friends, and no family to give him refuge. Surrounded by food, it soon became apparent that it was there to torture him. His stomach growled. Around him were all the riches in the world. But as the night drew on and the cold fingers of winter crept into his flesh under his ragged clothes, Toby realised that he may have made a terrible mistake.

Unsure of what to do, he continued to walk, certain that an opportunity would reveal itself. He naïvely hoped that a kind stranger might somehow hire him as a serving boy, or a market seller would see his wretched outfit and offer him some food. He knew it was a long shot, but it was almost Christmas after all. If there was ever a time for a miracle, this was it.

Nothing.

When dusk finally fell, Toby looked for a place to rest for the night, away from the piercing wind. His extremities were numb and his eyes were weeping with the cold. Everybody else had turned in for the night. Windows all around him emanated a warm, orange glow.

Toby finally stopped in Mount Street, a road not far from Park Lane, when his legs refused to carry him any further. There, he found a park bench on which he could lay. At the same time, the misty sky gave way, like frosting on a cake, and the biting snowflakes danced to earth and began to cover him in a milky-white blanket. He almost didn t notice. He was lost in thought, disillusioned. Escaping into the world wasn t as much fun as he thought it would be. He found himself longing for a bowl of sweet gruel, and his bed.

Certain that he would never find kindness from a stranger, he submitted to the growing fatigue that ached inside him. He thought that if he fell asleep now, he would never wake up. Although, he didn t really mind at all. Perhaps that was his destiny. To die here, alone on a park bench. At least his last day had been the happiest of his life. And how many other lonely street urchins had already suffered the same fate? He was sure that they would be there to welcome him in the afterlife, just another twelve-year-old among their ranks. That sounds nice, he thought dreamily and let the dream world take him.

Toby was oblivious to what happened next as he lay in the rising snow, on the brink of death. A soft, sad tune floated down the street on the winter wind. A violin s haunting melody enchanted the air. In the street lamps, flames flickered and danced along to the mystical melody like tiny ballerinas in music boxes. The whole street became charmed by the lilting music. Even the air seemed to hold its breath.

Out of the shadows, trundling methodically along the cobbles, rolled a procession of over twenty gypsy carriages, and flatbed carts shrouded in tarpaulins. The lead caravan - a richly painted, green and red one, decorated in a gypsy style - was pulled by a soot-coloured horse that walked without direction from its driver. In the driver s seat sat a portly old man, shrouded in blankets and wearing a red top hat. A luxuriant, white beard spilled from his face like a waterfall. His reins lay on his knees as if he trusted the horse to know where he wanted it to go. Laying his violin to one side, he halted the convoy when he spotted the sleeping child, blanketed in snow.

Pondering over the boy, he dismounted and strode up to the bench where he lay. Then he grunted to himself knowingly, bent down, and scooped up the limp young body. A bundle of blankets were handed to him by an assistant that came to his aid. Toby was carried to one of the carriages. Having delayed his journey for long enough, the old man swung nimbly back onto his caravan and set the horse off...
mehr