Howl's Moving Castle (Howl's Castle Book 1)

by Diana Wynne Jones

Then she shuffled through into the house, where she collected her purse with a few coins in it and a parcel of bread and cheese.

“I hope your bacon burns,” Calcifer said, muffled under the pan.

It was odd. As a girl, Sophie would have shriveled with embarrassment at the way she was behaving. As an old woman, she did not mind what she did or said. She found that a great relief.

“Nice!” screamed Howl. “You would! You did it on purpose. You couldn’t rest until you made me miserable too. Look at it! It’s ginger! I shall have to hide until it’s grown out!” He spread his arms out passionately. “Despair!” he yelled. “Anguish! Horror!”

“I feel ill,” he announced. “I’m going to bed, where I may die.” He tottered piteously to the stairs. “Bury me beside Mrs. Pentstemmon,” he croaked as he went up them to bed.

Howl’s voice was presently heard shouting weakly, “Help me, someone! I’m dying from neglect up here!”

“I’m dying of boredom,” Howl said pathetically. “Or maybe just dying.”

Howl was angry now, really angry. Good. Sophie felt like a fight.