Coraline

by Neil Gaiman

“Coraline? Oh, there you are. Where on earth were you?” “I was kidnapped by aliens,” said Coraline. “They came down from outer space with ray guns, but I fooled them by wearing a wig and laughing in a foreign accent, and I escaped.” “Yes, dear. Now, I think you could do with some more hair clips, don’t you?”

“Because,” she said, “when you’re scared but you still do it anyway, that’s brave.”

It is astonishing just how much of what we are can be tied to the beds we wake up in in the morning, and it is astonishing how fragile that can be.

“I didn’t think you played with your dolls anymore,” said Mrs. Jones. “I don’t,” admitted Coraline. “They’re protective coloration.” “Well, be back in time for lunch,” said her mother. “Have a good time.”

It had never occurred to Coraline that the crazy old man upstairs actually had a name, she realized.

If she’d known his name was Mr. Bobo she would have said it every chance she got. How often do you get to say a name like “Mr. Bobo” aloud?

Why do the batteries in things always run out just when you really need them? It’s one of the rules. I don’t try and explain them. I just live here.