A Monster Calls: Inspired by an idea from Siobhan Dowd
Patrick Ness
Language: English
Pages: 224
ISBN: 0763660655
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
An unflinching, darkly funny, and deeply moving story of a boy, his seriously ill mother, and an unexpected monstrous visitor.
At seven minutes past midnight, thirteen-year-old Conor wakes to find a monster outside his bedroom window. But it isn't the monster Conor's been expecting-- he's been expecting the one from his nightmare, the nightmare he's had nearly every night since his mother started her treatments. The monster in his backyard is different. It's ancient. And wild. And it wants something from Conor. Something terrible and dangerous. It wants the truth. From the final idea of award-winning author Siobhan Dowd-- whose premature death from cancer prevented her from writing it herself-- Patrick Ness has spun a haunting and darkly funny novel of mischief, loss, and monsters both real and imagined.
firmly in the middle of his back garden. And here was the monster. As Conor watched, the uppermost branches of the tree gathered themselves into a great and terrible face, shimmering into a mouth and nose and even eyes, peering back at him. Other branches twisted around one another, always creaking, always groaning, until they formed two long arms and a second leg to set down beside the main trunk. The rest of the tree gathered itself into a spine and then a torso, the thin, needle-like leaves
She brushed his hair again with her fingers. “I think I can forgive a kind lie.” “Are you okay?” Conor asked, and even though the question was in one sense completely ridiculous, she knew what he meant. “Well, sweetheart,” she said, “a couple of different things they’ve tried haven’t worked like they wanted them to. And they’ve not worked a lot sooner than they were hoping they wouldn’t. If that makes any sense.” Conor shook his head. “No, not to me either, really,” she said. He saw her smile
why. I’m telling you, I know.” His father looked confused. “Reason for what?” “So you just go back to America,” Conor carried on, “and go back to your other family and we’ll be fine here without you. Because this is going to work.” “Conor, no–” “Yes, it is. It’s going to work.” “Son,” his father said, leaning forward. “Stories don’t always have happy endings.” This stopped him. Because they didn’t, did they? That’s one thing the monster had definitely taught him. Stories were wild, wild
the school secretary entered, beckoning to Mrs Marl and whispering something to her. They both turned to look at Conor. 100 YEARS Conor’s grandma stopped outside his mum’s hospital room. “Aren’t you coming in?” Conor asked. She shook her head. “I’ll be down in the waiting room,” she said, and left him to enter on his own. He had a sour feeling in his stomach at what he might find inside. They’d never pulled him out of school before, not in the middle of the day, not even when she was
going to happen then, but he didn’t dare. Because it felt like he knew. If you speak the truth, the monster whispered in his ear, you will be able to face whatever comes. And so Conor looked back down at his mum, at her outstretched hand. He could feel his throat choking again and his eyes watering. It wasn’t the drowning of the nightmare, though. It was simpler, clearer. Still just as hard. He took his mother’s hand. She opened her eyes, briefly, catching him there. Then she closed them