Trevor Forest's Blog, page 3
June 11, 2013
Stanley Stickle Hates Homework. FREE!
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/241482
Copyright Marie Fullerton 2011
May 19, 2013
Fabulous Review of Magic Molly
We have just received ad Fab new review of Magic Molly From Favourite Books Reviews.
You can read it here.
http://readersfavorite.com/book-review/11290
April 18, 2013
Jasmine and Millie love Magic Molly
Here’s a couple of Magic Molly fans, Jasmine chose Magic Molly to take to school on World Book Day. Millie wants to read all the Magic Molly books.
April 16, 2013
Fab new review for Faylinn Frost and the Snow Fairies
http://www.amazon.co.uk/review/RK9A6HT0OR4FC/ref=cm_sw_r_tw_asr_Qy
Artwork by Marie Fullerton
EPF.0JKXB80
March 30, 2013
Faylinn Frost and the Snow Fairies FREE!
UK https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B004XJ5W8E
US http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004XJ5W8E
For ages 6+
Artwork by Marie Fullerton
When Faylinn Frost is woken up in the middle of the night by a fairy tapping on her bedroom window she thinks she is dreaming. The fairy turns out to be very real however, and she begs Faylinn for help. The fairy kingdom of Coldhaven is under attack from the evil Nathaniel and his creature, Sniffle. Nathaniel is capturing fairies and harvesting their magic dust to sell to the greedy people of the south lands. He has taken so much golden dust that the fairies can’t make
enough magic to control the weather and Coldhaven is warming up.
The Fairy Queen has already moved north to find colder weather and if winter doesn’t return soon, the Ice Elves and Snow Fairies will have to follow her. The remaining fairies are convinced that Faylinn Frost can find a way to defeat Nathaniel and return Coldhaven to winter. Faylinn isn’t sure, but she is determined to do all she can to help.
March 24, 2013
Another sneaky peek at Magic Molly book 4 The Halfway House
Chapter Two
An hour later, Molly and a now wide-awake Granny Whitewand, climbed into Mrs Miggins car and they set off for the post office.
Granny Whitewand looked at Molly and smacked her lips. ‘I wouldn’t mind a nice hot mug of tea while we’re in town.’
‘You had four cups for breakfast, Granny.’ Molly was amazed that anyone could drink so much tea.
‘They were little cups,’ said the old witch. ‘I’m awake now, I need a proper drink.’
Molly frowned. ‘We need to get back as soon as I get my licence so we can start my flying lessons.’
Mrs Miggins laughed. ‘Granny Whitewand loves her tea, Molly. We’ll go to that little café opposite the post office. They do lovely cakes there. You have the rest of the day to practice flying.’
Molly put her elbows on her lap and stuck her chin in her hands. ‘If she can stay awake long enough between cups of tea,’ she muttered. Granny Whitewand was very old and she needed a lot of what she called ‘forty winks’. Molly knew she needed a lot more than forty, she counted them once, when Granny Whitewand was asleep in her chair and gave up at nine hundred.
Mrs Miggins parked up in the car park behind the post office and helped Granny Whitewand out of the car. Molly ran in front and held the shop door open.
The post office counter was so high that Molly couldn’t see over the top of it. Mrs Miggins took a pen from her bag and asked for a learner’s broom licence. A woman, with a thin face and pair of tiny spectacles perched on the end of her nose, took a form from a pigeon hole and slid it under the glass dividing screen. Mrs Miggins filled in Molly’s details and passed it back. The woman examined it and picked up an inky stamper. She tilted her head back and looked around the post office.
‘Is the applicant present?’
‘I’m here,’ said Molly.
The women leaned forward and looked over the counter.
‘You’re a bit short for flying.’
Molly was indignant. ‘I’m just the right height for my age.’
The woman looked at the form again.
‘I see you’re only nine, this is very unusual, we don’t usually issue broom licences to girls under twelve. Are you sure you qualify?’
Molly reached up and slapped her new spell book on the counter.
‘I’ve got the Fly spell; I’m a grade three witch. The Magic Council keeps giving me tasks.’
The woman examined the spell book as though it might be a forgery. She checked Molly’s name and address in the front of the book and then made a big fuss of checking the academy’s official stamp. Eventually she seemed satisfied.
‘This is very unusual but everything seems to be in order. Who will be instructing the applicant?’
Mrs Miggins began to explain but Molly butted in.
‘Granny Whitewand is going to be my instructor; she fixed up my broom and…’
‘Granny Whitewand,’ repeated the woman. She filled in a line at the bottom of the form and looked back through the glass.
‘Is she present?’
Molly looked around. Granny Whitewand had fallen asleep leaning against the birthday card stand.
Molly tugged at her sleeve.
‘Granny Whitewand, we need you to sign the form.’
Granny Whitewand’s head snapped back. ‘Eh? what?’
‘My broom licence, we need you to sign it.’
The old witch shuffled forward towards the counter. The post office official looked at her over her spectacles.
‘Is she capable of giving lessons? She looks a little past-it to me.’
‘Plastic? Who’s she calling plastic?’ Granny Whitewand leaned on the counter and fixed the woman with a stern eye.
‘I might have to get my supervisor to look at this,’ said the official. ‘Molly might be too young and this lady might be too old.’
The woman turned and walked briskly through a door at the back of the shop. She returned with a smug look on her face.
‘You’ll have to come back in half an hour. Mr Stickitt says he will need to make a few phone calls to check your credentials.’
Mrs Miggins put her pen back into her bag.
‘Very well but I can assure you that everything is in order. I am the High Witch at the academy.’
‘That’s as maybe,’ sniffed the assistant. ‘But we have to check these things, we can’t go handing licences out willy-nilly, or anyone could get hold of one.’
Mrs Miggins led a very disappointed Molly out of the post office.
‘We may as well go for that mug of tea while we wait.’
Granny Whitewand smacked her lips. ‘Mmm tea. My throat’s as dry as a camel’s big toe.’
‘I don’t want tea, or cake. Can I just have a walk around to look at the shops?’ asked Molly.
Mrs Miiggins nodded. ‘All right, Molly, but only for fifteen minutes. Meet us in the café. I’ll save you a bit of cake.’
Molly wandered along the street looking into the shop windows. There wasn’t anything she was really interested in, she just didn’t like the idea of sitting in a stuffy café where old people would pat her on the head and call her, ‘cute.’
As she passed an alley at the side of the cycle shop she heard a ‘pssst,’ sound. Molly turned just in time to see the wizard from the Magic Council appear from a cloud of mist.
‘Bother,’ muttered Molly under her breath. She turned on her heels and began to hurry away. Every time she met the wizard he insisted on giving her a new task.
‘Molly Miggins, daughter of a witch,’ said a deep voice.
Molly tried to keep walking but her feet wouldn’t move. Eventually she gave up and turned back to the alleyway.
‘Yes, that’s me, but I don’t have time for any tasks at the moment, I’m getting my learner’s broom licence, Granny Whitewand’s going to teach me to fly, she’s with mum in the café and…’
The wizard held up his hand for silence.
‘You will have time for this task. It shouldn’t take long… No more than an hour in fact.’
Molly wasn’t convinced.
‘No sulking dragons? No sniffing witches? No jelly ghosts?’
‘None of those things,’ agreed the wizard.
‘And I won’t have to go to the void again?’
‘Not this time. This is a nice easy task.’
Molly looked at the scroll in the wizard’s hand suspiciously.
‘What do you want me to do this time?’
‘The Magic Council merely require you to go somewhere and bring someone back with you.’
Molly’s suspicions were aroused again. She didn’t trust the wizard. Nothing was ever easy with him.
‘Where is somewhere? Who am I bringing back? and why can’t they come on their own?’ she asked.
‘So many questions,’ chuckled the wizard. He held out the scroll to Molly. She took it reluctantly.
‘We are making a student exchange with the Grey Academy on the edge of the void. All you have to do, is meet the girl at the Halfway house and bring her back with you. She can’t come on her own; she has to be accompanied through the portal. You will leave this package in the Halfway House.’
The wizard handed her a sealed, brown paper parcel.
Molly still wasn’t convinced.
‘Why me? Surely you have other witches who could do the job.’
‘You were chosen for the task, Molly Miggins. It’s as simple as that.’
Molly sighed. She knew it was a waste of time arguing.
‘So,’ she said. ‘All I have to do is go through a portal and bring back a junior witch. Does she know I’m coming?’
‘I didn’t say she was a junior witch but she knows you are coming and she will be at the Halfway House, waiting for you.’
Molly nodded. ‘Okay, I’ll go and get her. What’s her name and when do I leave? Please don’t say it’s today, I have my first flying lesson.’
‘Today? No, that would indeed be short notice. You can go tomorrow. Meet me at the park gates at nine o’clock in the morning. You will find everything you need to know about the Grey Academy from your Witcher computer program.’
The wizard smiled. ‘I think you’ll enjoy this task Molly Miggins and I’m sure you’ll like Ameera. Now, I’d better be off, I have important work to do.’
‘Before you go, could you have a word with the people at the post office, please? They are being awkward about my flying licence.’
‘Are they indeed?’ said the wizard.
Molly nodded. ‘She said that I’m too young and Granny Whitewand is too old… then she said I was too short and…’
The wizard marched across the road and stormed into the post office. A minute later he came out again.
‘I think you’ll find that your application was successful, Molly Miggins. You have been given a special dispensation. Go and find your mother.’
Before Molly could reply the wizard vanished in a puff of purple smoke.
February 24, 2013
Lovely review of The Wishnotist by Isabelle aged 9
The Wishnotist by Trevor Forest, reviewed by Isabelle, aged 9
I really loved this story. The main message was to be careful what you wish for, and I enjoyed reading about all the children’s wishes and how they went wrong. I thought the story was really entertaining and I couldn’t wait to keep reading on to see what happened. My favourite part was when the main character, Jack, made his wish. I think all my friends would like this book as well, and I’m going to take it into school and ask my teacher to read it to us all.
Thank you Isabelle.
February 1, 2013
Clarissa Crumb Chaper One.
Chapter One
The Crumb family seemed, from the outside at least, to be a normal sort of family. They lived in a normal sized house on a normal sort of street. If you looked through the normal looking bay window you would see a normal looking lounge with a normal looking TV, a normal looking sofa and a normal looking goggle-eyed goldfish swimming around a normal looking plastic castle in a normal-looking fish tank.
Indeed, everything about the Crumbs appeared to be normal; even their daughter, Clarissa. In reality though Clarissa was anything but normal; she was a changeling, a fairy child that had been swapped for a human baby in the middle of the night.
Not that the Crumbs or even Clarissa, knew that. On the surface she seemed to be just like every other little girl on the street. She didn’t like Brussels sprouts, but then which little girl did?
It’s not fair to say that the Crumbs didn’t have any feelings for their daughter, they did, sort of. It was just that Mrs Crumb had this nagging feeling that things weren’t quite as they should be.
She hadn’t always felt like that. When she first brought Clarissa home from the hospital she was as proud as any new mum could be. She rang everyone she knew to tell them how wonderfully fabulous her new, baby daughter was.
‘Ooh, Agatha, she’s so gorgeous. You could just eat her.’
(As things turned out, Mrs Crumb wasn’t the only one who would smack their lips when they looked at Clarissa, but more about that later.)
On the day that Clarissa was bought home for the first time, Mr Crumb put up a banner over the front door, saying, ‘Welcome Home Mavis and Clarissa.’ A small group of Mrs Crumb’s neighbours waited on the street for a first glimpse of the new baby.
‘Ooh, isn’t she gorgeous,’ said Agatha
‘Ahh, she looks just like her dad, look at the cute little nose,’ said Mrs Blower from next door.
‘Doesn’t she look scrumptious?’ said an old lady that no one had ever seen before.
Things started to go downhill when Clarissa was just four weeks old. Mrs Crumb complained about her to Agatha when she called in for coffee one day. Agatha knew all about babies, she had six children of her own.
‘I was singing to her while I changed her nappy this morning,’ said Mrs Crumb. ‘Bye baby bunting, it was. Well, she looked up at me and this little voice suddenly appeared in my head. “Ow, my ears hurt,” it said. Did you ever hear anything like that, Agatha?’
Agatha shook her head. ‘You imagined it, dear.’
‘I thought that,’ said Mrs Crumb. ‘So I sang, daddy’s gone a hunting, and the voice came straight back. “I’m not listening I’m not listening,” it screamed.’
Agatha scratched her head.
‘That does seem a little odd.’
‘Do you think I’m going mad?’ asked Mrs Crumb. ‘I hear the voice all the time.’
Agatha looked like she was about to say, ‘yes,’ but she didn’t. Instead she thought about it for a few seconds.
‘You’re probably just tired, dear. Let Arthur feed her now and then while you have a rest.’
‘Arthur won’t feed her anymore, Agatha. He used to give her the early morning bottle, but she started being sick on his best silk pyjamas.’
‘All babies sick up a bit of milk, that’s normal,’ said Agatha.
‘Yes, I know, but Clarissa laughs like a drain after she’s done it.’
‘Laughs? She can’t laugh yet, surely.’
Arthur says she does. She laughs in his head.’
‘In his head?’
That’s what Arthur says. Do you think I should see a doctor?’
Agatha nodded. ‘I think you should both see a doctor.’
‘About Clarissa I mean,’ said Mrs Crumb, hurredly.’She shouldn’t be practicing telepathy at her age should she?’
Agatha put down her coffee cup, looked at her watch and backed away towards the door.
‘’Is that the time? Doesn’t time fly? Sorry, Mavis, got to rush. I’ll erm, see you around.’
Agatha didn’t come round for coffee again after that and Mrs Crumb decided not to tell anyone else about the voice in her head. Instead she began to spend as little time as she possibly could with her baby. She knew when it needed something. The little voice in her head told her.
‘Food.’
‘Nappy change.’
‘Bath.’
‘Bedtime… no singing.’
When she was two Clarissa was enrolled in a playgroup. The playgroup leader was amazed when Clarissa picked up a plastic trumpet on her first day and played the national anthem on it.’
‘Incredible,’ she said. ‘She’s very forward for her age, isn’t she?’
‘You don’t know the half of it,’ muttered Mrs Crumb.
Mr Crumb’s favourite meal was mash and sprouts and he insisted on the whole family having it at least once a week. When Clarissa was old enough to sit at the table Mrs Crumb decided that in future she would eat her meals from a tray in the lounge. Mr Crumb wanted to do the same but someone had to sit with Clarissa while she ate. He placed a plate of steaming vegetables in front of her and took his seat opposite
‘No sprouts,’ said the voice in his head.
‘They’re good for you,’ he replied.
‘Hate potatoes,’ said the voice.
‘Eat it up,’ said Mr Crumb and shovelled a big forkful into his mouth. ‘Mmmm, lovely.’
Splat! A handful of mashed potato hit Mr Crumb squarely on the nose.’
Splat! Splat! Handfuls of mashed sprouts splattered over his eyes.
‘Nasty sprouts,’ said the voice.
Mr Crumb picked up a serviette, wiped his face and continued with his meal. Clarissa scowled and waited for pudding.
When she was four Mrs Crumb decided that she really didn’t want the bother of looking after Clarissa anymore, so she got a nanny in.
‘You can play games in someone else’s head,’ she said.
‘I won’t miss you, ‘came the reply.
Mrs Crumb hired the first person to apply. Mrs Rosebud turned up at the front door a mere five minutes after she had placed the advertisement in the post office window. She was a short woman with silver grey hair. She had a beautiful face without a single wrinkle, even though she must have been at least sixty years old. She offered to take the job even before she knew how much she would be paid. Mrs Crumb took advantage of that and knocked twenty pounds a week off the advertised wages.
‘Clarissa is in the nursery,’ said Mrs Crumb. I’ll show you where it is.’
Mrs Rosebud cocked her head to one side, held her hand to her ear and smiled to herself. ‘No need,’ she replied. ‘I can hear her calling me. What a lovely, musical voice.’
‘You’re welcome to it,’ muttered Mrs Crumb.
Mrs Rosebud settled in quickly and soon took over all aspects of Clarissa’s care. She bathed her and taught her to read. She took her to school and picked her up afterwards. She sat by her bed at night and told her wonderful stories about fairies and their arch enemies, the Hags.
‘But how can a changeling spot a Hag? asked Clarissa, after one particularly exciting story.
‘They can’t, not really,’ said Mrs Rosebud. ‘Hags only show themselves as they really are when they are chasing changelings. The rest of the time they look like everyone else.’
‘If I was a changeling, I’d ask a question in their head,’ said Clarissa, ‘then I’d know.’
‘A changeling should never do that,’ said Mrs Rosebud. ‘They would give themselves away in an instant if they did and the Hag would have them in the pot in no time. Hags can read minds too.’
‘That’s so unfair,’ said Clarissa.
Mrs Rosebud patted Clarissa’s hand and smiled.
‘It’s only a story, dear; still, it’s a good thing to know, just in case.’
A few months after the arrival of the nanny, Mr Crumb hired a local building firm to build an extension onto the back of the house and Clarissa and Mrs Rosebud spent the vast majority of their time in it. They had their own TV, their own shower and lavatory and their own little kitchen.
Mr Crumb still insisted that Clarissa sat with him at the dining table for their evening meal and still served up potatoes and sprouts twice a week. On those nights Mrs Rosebud secretly prepared a second meal of carrots and green beans so that Clarissa didn’t go hungry..
Apart from the flying food at the dinner table, everything seemed to go well. When Clarissa was seven, Mrs Crumb began to plan Clarissa’s future. She found (what she thought was,) a reasonably priced boarding school that would take Clarissa when she was eleven, and began to dream about the day that she would leave home forever.
Mrs Crumb’s plans were to never to see the light of day. On Clarissa’s ninth birthday, things changed forever.
Clarissa Crumb Alternative chaper One.
Chapter One
The Crumb family seemed, from the outside at least, to be a normal sort of family. They lived in a normal sized house on a normal sort of street. If you looked through the normal looking bay window you would see a normal looking lounge with a normal looking TV, a normal looking sofa and a normal looking goggle-eyed goldfish swimming around a normal looking plastic castle in a normal-looking fish tank.
Indeed, everything about the Crumbs appeared to be normal; even their daughter, Clarissa. In reality though Clarissa was anything but normal; she was a changeling, a fairy child that had been swapped for a human baby in the middle of the night.
Not that the Crumbs or even Clarissa, knew that. On the surface she seemed to be just like every other little girl on the street. She didn’t like Brussels sprouts, but then which little girl did?
It’s not fair to say that the Crumbs didn’t have any feelings for their daughter, they did, sort of. It was just that Mrs Crumb had this nagging feeling that things weren’t quite as they should be.
She hadn’t always felt like that. When she first brought Clarissa home from the hospital she was as proud as any new mum could be. She rang everyone she knew to tell them how wonderfully fabulous her new, baby daughter was.
‘Ooh, Agatha, she’s so gorgeous. You could just eat her.’
(As things turned out, Mrs Crumb wasn’t the only one who would smack their lips when they looked at Clarissa, but more about that later.)
On the day that Clarissa was bought home for the first time, Mr Crumb put up a banner over the front door, saying, ‘Welcome Home Mavis and Clarissa.’ A small group of Mrs Crumb’s neighbours waited on the street for a first glimpse of the new baby.
‘Ooh, isn’t she gorgeous,’ said Agatha
‘Ahh, she looks just like her dad, look at the cute little nose,’ said Mrs Blower from next door.
‘Doesn’t she look scrumptious?’ said an old lady that no one had ever seen before.
Things started to go downhill when Clarissa was just four weeks old. Mrs Crumb complained about her to Agatha when she called in for coffee one day. Agatha knew all about babies, she had six children of her own.
‘I was singing to her while I changed her nappy this morning,’ said Mrs Crumb. ‘Bye baby bunting, it was. Well, she looked up at me and this little voice suddenly appeared in my head. “Ow, my ears hurt,” it said. Did you ever hear anything like that, Agatha?’
Agatha shook her head. ‘You imagined it, dear.’
‘I thought that,’ said Mrs Crumb. ‘So I sang, daddy’s gone a hunting, and the voice came straight back. “I’m not listening I’m not listening,” it screamed.’
Agatha scratched her head.
‘That does seem a little odd.’
‘Do you think I’m going mad?’ asked Mrs Crumb. ‘I hear the voice all the time.’
Agatha looked like she was about to say, ‘yes,’ but she didn’t. Instead she thought about it for a few seconds.
‘You’re probably just tired, dear. Let Arthur feed her now and then while you have a rest.’
‘Arthur won’t feed her anymore, Agatha. He used to give her the early morning bottle, but she started being sick on his best silk pyjamas.’
‘All babies sick up a bit of milk, that’s normal,’ said Agatha.
‘Yes, I know, but Clarissa laughs like a drain after she’s done it.’
‘Laughs? She can’t laugh yet, surely.’
Arthur says she does. She laughs in his head.’
‘In his head?’
That’s what Arthur says. Do you think I should see a doctor?’
Agatha nodded. ‘I think you should both see a doctor.’
‘About Clarissa I mean,’ said Mrs Crumb, hurredly.’She shouldn’t be practicing telepathy at her age should she?’
Agatha put down her coffee cup, looked at her watch and backed away towards the door.
‘’Is that the time? Doesn’t time fly? Sorry, Mavis, got to rush. I’ll erm, see you around.’
Agatha didn’t come round for coffee again after that and Mrs Crumb decided not to tell anyone else about the voice in her head. Instead she began to spend as little time as she possibly could with her baby. She knew when it needed something. The little voice in her head told her.
‘Food.’
‘Nappy change.’
‘Bath.’
‘Bedtime… no singing.’
When she was two Clarissa was enrolled in a playgroup. The playgroup leader was amazed when Clarissa picked up a plastic trumpet on her first day and played the national anthem on it.’
‘Incredible,’ she said. ‘She’s very forward for her age, isn’t she?’
‘You don’t know the half of it,’ muttered Mrs Crumb.
Mr Crumb’s favourite meal was mash and sprouts and he insisted on the whole family having it at least once a week. When Clarissa was old enough to sit at the table Mrs Crumb decided that in future she would eat her meals from a tray in the lounge. Mr Crumb wanted to do the same but someone had to sit with Clarissa while she ate. He placed a plate of steaming vegetables in front of her and took his seat opposite
‘No sprouts,’ said the voice in his head.
‘They’re good for you,’ he replied.
‘Hate potatoes,’ said the voice.
‘Eat it up,’ said Mr Crumb and shovelled a big forkful into his mouth. ‘Mmmm, lovely.’
Splat! A handful of mashed potato hit Mr Crumb squarely on the nose.’
Splat! Splat! Handfuls of mashed sprouts splattered over his eyes.
‘Nasty sprouts,’ said the voice.
Mr Crumb picked up a serviette, wiped his face and continued with his meal. Clarissa scowled and waited for pudding.
When she was four Mrs Crumb decided that she really didn’t want the bother of looking after Clarissa anymore, so she got a nanny in.
‘You can play games in someone else’s head,’ she said.
‘I won’t miss you, ‘came the reply.
Mrs Crumb hired the first person to apply. Mrs Rosebud turned up at the front door a mere five minutes after she had placed the advertisement in the post office window. She was a short woman with silver grey hair. She had a beautiful face without a single wrinkle, even though she must have been at least sixty years old. She offered to take the job even before she knew how much she would be paid. Mrs Crumb took advantage of that and knocked twenty pounds a week off the advertised wages.
‘Clarissa is in the nursery,’ said Mrs Crumb. I’ll show you where it is.’
Mrs Rosebud cocked her head to one side, held her hand to her ear and smiled to herself. ‘No need,’ she replied. ‘I can hear her calling me. What a lovely, musical voice.’
‘You’re welcome to it,’ muttered Mrs Crumb.
Mrs Rosebud settled in quickly and soon took over all aspects of Clarissa’s care. She bathed her and taught her to read. She took her to school and picked her up afterwards. She sat by her bed at night and told her wonderful stories about fairies and their arch enemies, the Hags.
‘But how can a changeling spot a Hag? asked Clarissa, after one particularly exciting story.
‘They can’t, not really,’ said Mrs Rosebud. ‘Hags only show themselves as they really are when they are chasing changelings. The rest of the time they look like everyone else.’
‘If I was a changeling, I’d ask a question in their head,’ said Clarissa, ‘then I’d know.’
‘A changeling should never do that,’ said Mrs Rosebud. ‘They would give themselves away in an instant if they did and the Hag would have them in the pot in no time. Hags can read minds too.’
‘That’s so unfair,’ said Clarissa.
Mrs Rosebud patted Clarissa’s hand and smiled.
‘It’s only a story, dear; still, it’s a good thing to know, just in case.’
A few months after the arrival of the nanny, Mr Crumb hired a local building firm to build an extension onto the back of the house and Clarissa and Mrs Rosebud spent the vast majority of their time in it. They had their own TV, their own shower and lavatory and their own little kitchen.
Mr Crumb still insisted that Clarissa sat with him at the dining table for their evening meal and still served up potatoes and sprouts twice a week. On those nights Mrs Rosebud secretly prepared a second meal of carrots and green beans so that Clarissa didn’t go hungry..
Apart from the flying food at the dinner table, everything seemed to go well. When Clarissa was seven, Mrs Crumb began to plan Clarissa’s future. She found (what she thought was,) a reasonably priced boarding school that would take Clarissa when she was eleven, and began to dream about the day that she would leave home forever.
Mrs Crumb’s plans were to never to see the light of day. On Clarissa’s ninth birthday, things changed forever.
January 27, 2013
Clarissa Crumb, Changeling. The Prologue
The following text has not been edited and is liable to change without further notice.
CLARISSA CRUMB
CHANGELING
Prologue
Do you believe in fairies? I don’t mean those itty-bitty things with tiny gossamer wings and sparkly wands that spend all their days sitting on toadstools looking cute. I mean proper fairies. The fairies that live in the forest, the fairies that can do real magic, like change themselves into a bird, a cat, or a hedgehog. The fairies that are able to disguise themselves as something innocent looking, like plant pots or buckets. The kind of fairy that doesn’t like humans much and disappear when we come clomping through the trees in our clompy boots. They probably don’t disappear to be honest; they probably just change themselves into a squirrel, or a nut, or something.
Proper fairies don’t use magic dust to sprinkle over things, they just think about what they want to do, and do it. They don’t live on a diet of berries and buttercup pollen either. They actually like carrots, peas and green beans, that sort of thing. They don’t like potatoes though, and they’re not too fond of Brussels Sprouts, so, if you ever come across a hungry fairy, don’t try to give it the sprouts you hid in your pocket at the Christmas dinner table, because they hate them just as much as you do and they’ll just throw them at you. You’ll find that fairies have a very good aim too.
I know that fairies like carrots because we had a fairy, plant pilferer in our garden and our vegetable crop was disappearing at an alarming rate. I stopped its night time nibbling when I ran strands of thin, copper wire over the rows of carrots, peas and lettuce. Fairies can’t do magic if there is copper about and we would probably have seen them if they had turned up disguised as themselves. So, we did have fresh carrots for dinner, for a while at least. Unfortunately, not long after the fairies left, a few rabbits began to visit, and they aren’t put off by copper wire. I reckon the fairies got their own back by telling the rabbits where they could find a free, night time feast.
Fairies are interesting creatures. They have their babies on the night of the changelings, which only happens once every nine years. Fairy mothers don’t make good parents. They are too busy looking after their patch of woodland to care for babies. Fairy fathers do look after children, but only when they get to nine years old. They have no idea how to change a baby’s nappy or play ring a roses with it and if you showed them a rattle they would probably think there should be a snake on the end of it, so they have developed a rather sneaky strategy. They get someone else to look after their babies for them.
On the night of the changelings, the fairy mothers kiss their babies goodbye and give them to a juvenile fairy, usually a female of about fourteen. Their job is to find a human house containing a new-ish human baby and swap it for the changeling. The human baby is taken back to the wood where it is wrapped in a warm blanket and placed inside a hollow tree. The fairy mothers cast a spell over it, and there is stays, fast asleep for nine years. The amazing thing is, it stays exactly the same. It doesn’t grow any bigger, it doesn’t wet its nappy, it doesn’t grow teeth and it doesn’t scream the house down at all hours of the day and night. It just lies there, fast asleep, until it’s time to take it back to its mother on the next night of the changelings.
The clever thing about a fairy baby is, as soon as is placed in the human baby’s cot, its features will change so that it looks exactly like the baby it has replaced. It will have the same colour hair, (if it has any,) the same colour eyes, it can wet its nappy to order and it grows a pair of lungs that could out-scream a banshee with a sore toe.
The fairy baby will grow up looking exactly like the human baby would have looked. It will go to school, it will make sandcastles at the beach, it will smile a smile so cute, that its foster grandmother will boast about it to anyone willing to listen. The changelings look, and act, so much like normal human children that no relative could ever tell that they had one lurking in their playpen. The changelings don’t know who they are either. You could be one yourself. You wouldn’t have any idea until you began to change, then you’d know all about it.
Your mum and dad won’t know they have been tricked either, until you reach nine years old that is, then very strange things begin to happen.
On the stroke of midnight on your ninth birthday you will begin to change. Your nose will get a bit pointier, your chin will stick out just that little bit more, your hair will begin to turn silver and you will begin to shrink. (Fairies only grow to three feet tall and you are probably taller than that already.) By the time the sun comes up you will have gained all the magic power of a full-grown fairy and it will be time for you to make your way back home to the forest.
This all sounds rather easy, but it isn’t, because as soon as the changelings begin to change, they become a target for the Hags.
‘What on earth is a Hag?’ I hear you ask. Well, if you’ll sit still for a few more minutes, I’ll tell you.
Hags are old witches, sort of. They are certainly old, a lot older than your granny, even if she’s really old and wrinkly. They don’t all look old though, and that’s because some of them managed to catch a fairy on the previous night of the changelings. If you’re a little sensitive you might want to put your hands over your eyes at this point because what I’m going to say next isn’t very nice.
If a Hag is lucky enough to capture you she will put you in her big black pot with lots of vegetables and the odd spider or mouse. She will boil you for a couple of hours until you turn into soup. She will ladle the soup into a large bowl and dribble some slobber into it from her drooling mouth. Some Hags will add a bit of salt and pepper to you and spread a slice of bread and butter, but the majority of them will hold the hot bowl to their black-toothed mouths and slurp you straight down. Once they have eaten the soup they immediately begin to look, and feel, young again. The makeover will last for eighteen years, that’s two changeling cycles. If they don’t manage to catch a changeling on the second cycle the Hag will revert to looking as old as she really is, and seeing as some of them are about two hundred years old…well, that’s a lot of wrinkles.
A Hag who caught a changeling on the previous cycle, won’t bother to chase them on the next one, it could be quite dangerous. For instance, if they were silly enough to eat fairy soup when they didn’t need it, they could end up looking even younger than they do already, and another Hag might mistake them for a changeling and put them in their own pot. Hags have to be very careful what they eat.
If you are a changeling you might find this story useful. Then again, if you are, then you obviously haven’t had your ninth birthday yet. If you had, you wouldn’t be wasting precious time reading this. You’d be running for your life through the forest, with hundreds of Hags in hot pursuit.
Right, that’s enough of that. I’ll get on with the story.
