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The Crystal Prison

E-BookEPUBePub WasserzeichenE-Book
Englisch
Pushkin Children's Bookserschienen am06.06.2024
A new illustrated edition of the classic children's fantasy adventure set in a magical world of mice and rats __________ 'Fast-paced, suspenseful ... [a] multitude of unforgettable characters' North-South Books 'The perfect stories for dark, cosy evenings. A once read, never forgotten series' Phil Hickes, author of The Haunting of Aveline Jones __________ An innocent young mouse lies murdered in a moonlit field as the screech of an owl echoes across the ripening corn... The Deptford Mice have escaped the horrors of Jupiter's lair and sought refuge in the countryside with a colony of fieldmice, busy preparing for the great summer festival. But soon they must face terrifying evil once more, as a series of mysterious crimes strike the peaceful fieldmouse community. At first the simple country rodents suspect Deptford newcomer Audrey - however, the truth turns out to be far more sinister.

Robin Jarvis (born May 8, 1963) is a British children's author who has entertained (and pleasantly terrified) generations of children with his brilliantly imagined dark fantasy stories, including the Deptford Mice and Whitby Witches series. The Dark Portal - the first book in the Deptford Mice series - was the runner up for the Smarties book prize in 1989.mehr
Verfügbare Formate
TaschenbuchKartoniert, Paperback
EUR13,00
E-BookEPUBePub WasserzeichenE-Book
EUR8,39

Produkt

KlappentextA new illustrated edition of the classic children's fantasy adventure set in a magical world of mice and rats __________ 'Fast-paced, suspenseful ... [a] multitude of unforgettable characters' North-South Books 'The perfect stories for dark, cosy evenings. A once read, never forgotten series' Phil Hickes, author of The Haunting of Aveline Jones __________ An innocent young mouse lies murdered in a moonlit field as the screech of an owl echoes across the ripening corn... The Deptford Mice have escaped the horrors of Jupiter's lair and sought refuge in the countryside with a colony of fieldmice, busy preparing for the great summer festival. But soon they must face terrifying evil once more, as a series of mysterious crimes strike the peaceful fieldmouse community. At first the simple country rodents suspect Deptford newcomer Audrey - however, the truth turns out to be far more sinister.

Robin Jarvis (born May 8, 1963) is a British children's author who has entertained (and pleasantly terrified) generations of children with his brilliantly imagined dark fantasy stories, including the Deptford Mice and Whitby Witches series. The Dark Portal - the first book in the Deptford Mice series - was the runner up for the Smarties book prize in 1989.
Details
Weitere ISBN/GTIN9781782694359
ProduktartE-Book
EinbandartE-Book
FormatEPUB
Format HinweisePub Wasserzeichen
FormatE101
Erscheinungsjahr2024
Erscheinungsdatum06.06.2024
ReiheThe Deptford Mice
Reihen-Nr.2
SpracheEnglisch
Dateigrösse8367 Kbytes
Artikel-Nr.14718680
Rubriken
Genre9201

Inhalt/Kritik

Leseprobe




1
The Summons


Oswald was ill. As soon as the white mouse had returned from the sewers, he had felt unwell. When the small group of mice who had confronted the terrifying Jupiter had emerged from the Grille and climbed the cellar steps, Oswald´s legs had given way and sturdy Thomas Triton had carried him the rest of the way. Although the albino coughed and spluttered, no one realized how serious his condition would become.

For weeks he had stayed in bed. At first the mice thought he had merely caught a cold, and his mother Mrs Chitter had fussed and scolded him over it. But the cold did not improve, and his lungs had become inflamed so that, when he coughed, the pain made him cry. Steadily he grew weaker. Mrs Chitter tended to him day and night, and made herself ill in the process, until she too became a poor reflection of what she had once been.

Oswald´s father, Jacob Chitter, had moved his favourite chair into his son´s room next to his bed. He held his son´s paw throughout, shaking his head sadly. Oswald was slipping away; bit by painful bit, the white mouse became more frail. Then one day Mrs Chitter could take no more. As she was carrying away the soup that Oswald had been unable to swallow, the bowl fell from her paws, and she fell heavily to the floor - soup and tears everywhere.

From then on, Gwen Brown took charge of Oswald and his mother, while Twit the fieldmouse looked after his uncle, Mr Chitter.

All was silent in the Skirtings. The empty old house was filled with quiet prayers for the Chitter family. Every mouse helped as much as they could: those on the Landings forgot their snobbery and offered food and blankets. Gwen Brown´s own children Arthur and Audrey collected donations and messages of goodwill and it was the job of a grey mouse from the city called Piccadilly to keep everyone informed of Oswald´s condition.

The mice owed a great deal to this small group of friends. It was they who had finally rid them of the menace of Jupiter, and all their lives were now easier. No more did they have to dread the cellar and the strange Grille which was the entrance to the dark and sinister rat world. All the cruel rats had been killed or scattered and a mouse could sleep soundly at night, fearing no sudden attacks or raids. Only the older mice still looked at the cellar doubtfully and would not pass beyond its great door.

So, when they had been told of Jupiter´s fall - and when they finally believed it - there was tremendous excitement and they had cheered the brave deeds of these courageous friends. But now the youngest of the heroes was dying.

Piccadilly swept the hair out of his eyes and got out of bed. The sunlight shining through a wide crack in the wall warmed him all over, but he hardly noticed it. For the moment, he was sharing a room with Arthur, and Audrey was sleeping in her mother´s bed, because Gwen was at the Chitters´ all the time now.

Arthur,´ Piccadilly whispered to the snoring bundle, wake up.´ He shook his friend gently.

The plump mouse on the bed blinked and drew a paw over his eyes. How is he?´ he asked directly.

Piccadilly shook his head. I´ve just got up - how was he last night when you left him?´

Bad!´ Arthur swung himself off the bed and stood in the sunlight as was his custom. He stared at the clear blue sky outside. Mother doesn´t think it will be long now,´ he sighed and looked across to Piccadilly. Will you stay here, afterwards?´

The grey mouse sniffed a little. No, I´ve made up my mind to stay just until...´ he coughed, then I´m off - back to the city.´

We´ll miss you, you know,´ said Arthur. I won´t know what to do around here when you´ve gone. I think Twit´s decided to leave as well... afterwards.´ Arthur turned back to examine the summer sky and then remarked casually, I think Audrey will miss you most though.´

Piccadilly looked up curiously. She´s never said anything.´

You know what she´s like: too stubborn to say anything! I know my sister, and believe you me, she likes you a lot.´

Well, I wish she´d tell me.´

Oh I think she will when it suits her.´ Arthur stretched himself and rubbed his ears. He doesn´t even take the milk any more, you know. Mother can´t get him to drink it and if he does, it won´t stay down. Maybe he would be better off...´ his voice trailed away miserably.

I´m dreading it,´ murmured Piccadilly. These past few days he´s sunk lower an´ lower - I don´t know what keeps him going.´

Arthur touched him lightly on the shoulder. Let´s go and find out.´

Audrey was already up and waiting for them. She had not bothered to tie the ribbon in her hair as she usually did, and it hung in soft chestnut waves behind her ears.

Outside the Chitters´ home they stopped, and Arthur glanced nervously at the others before knocking. They waited anxiously as shuffling steps approached on the other side of the curtain draped over the entrance.

The curtain was drawn aside, and the small features of Twit greeted them solemnly. He looked back into the room, nodded, then stepped out and let the curtain fall back behind him.

He´s still with us,´ he whispered. ´Twere touch ´n´ go for a while last night. Thought we´d lost ´im twice.´ The fieldmouse bit his lip. Your mum´s all in; she´s ´ad a tirin´ time of it. What with ´im and Aunty, she´s fit to drop.´

I´ll tell her to lie down for a bit,´ stated Arthur.

And I´ll take over,´ added Audrey. You look like you could do with a rest as well, Twit.´

Uncle just sits an´ mopes, his wife an´ son bein´ so bad. I can´t do anything with ´im.´ Twit wiped his brimming eyes. Heck we tried, me an´ your mum, but all three of ´em are slidin´ downhill fast. I really think this be the last day. No, I knows it. None of ´em´ll see the sunset.´ Big tears trickled down the fieldmouse´s little face. He was exhausted and felt all his efforts had been a waste of time - this branch of his family was about to wither and die.

Audrey bent down and kissed Twit´s forehead. Hush,´ she soothed. Piccadilly, put Twit in Arthur´s bed. I´ll wake you if anything happens,´ she reassured the fieldmouse.

Thank ´ee,´ Twit stammered through a sniffling yawn, and he followed Piccadilly back to the Browns´ home.

Arthur turned to his sister. Right,´ he said. I´ll tackle Mother, you see to the Chitters. I´ll come and help once Mother´s gone to bed.´ Gingerly he pulled back the curtain.

It was dark beyond: the daylight had been blocked out for Oswald´s sake.

Arabel Chitter´s bric-a-brac was well dusted, her pieces of china ornament, bits of sparkling brooches and neatly folded lace shawls and headscarves had all been seen to by Gwen Brown. Mrs Chitter had always been house-proud and if things were not just so´ she would fret.

Arthur and Audrey slowly made their way to Oswald´s room. Arthur coughed quietly and their mother came out to them.

Hello, dears,´ she breathed wearily. Dark circles ringed her brown eyes and her tail dragged sadly behind her. No ribbon today, Audrey?´ she asked, stroking her daughter´s hair. And you, Arthur, have you had breakfast?´

Have you, Mother?´ He took her paw in his. No, I didn´t think so. Come on, you´re going to get some sleep.´ He would hear no protests and Gwen was too tired to make any.

Audrey, promise you´ll wake me if...´ was all she managed.

I promise, Mother.´

Yes, good girl. Now, come, Arthur, show me to my bed or I´ll drop down here.´ Audrey watched them leave, then breathed deeply and went inside.

Illness has a smell all of its own and is unmistakable. Sweet and cloying, it lingers in a sickroom, waiting for the patient to recover or fail. Audrey had grown accustomed to this smell by now though it frightened her to enter the room.

It was a small space, almost filled by the bed in which Oswald lay. Beside him, on a chair, was Mr Chitter, his head bent in sleep. He was a meek mouse, devoted to his wife and son, but this had broken him.

Oswald was quite still. His face was gaunt and drained, paler now than ever before. His eyelids were closed lightly over his dim pink eyes. His fair albino hair was...

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Autor

Robin Jarvis (born May 8, 1963) is a British children's author who has entertained (and pleasantly terrified) generations of children with his brilliantly imagined dark fantasy stories, including the Deptford Mice and Whitby Witches series. The Dark Portal - the first book in the Deptford Mice series - was the runner up for the Smarties book prize in 1989.