Coraline

by Neil Gaiman

“What happened to you all?” asked Coraline. “How did you come here?” “She left us here,” said one of the voices. “She stole our hearts, and she stole our souls, and she took our lives away, and she left us here, and she forgot about us in the dark.” “You poor things,” said Coraline. “How long have you been here?” “So very long a time,” said a voice. “Aye. Time beyond reckoning,” said another voice. “I walked through the scullery door,” said the voice of the one that thought it might be a boy, “and I found myself back in the parlor. But she was waiting for me. She told me she was my other mamma, but I never saw my true mamma again.” “Flee!” said the very first of the voices—another girl, Coraline fancied. “Flee, while there’s still air in your lungs and blood in your veins and warmth in your heart. Flee while you still have your mind and your soul.” “I’m not running away,” said Coraline. “She has my parents. I came to get them back.” “Ah, but she’ll keep you here while the days turn to dust and the leaves fall and the years pass one after the next like the tick-tick-ticking of a clock.”