The Neverending Story

by Michael Ende

So he had almost ceased to be a human and had almost become a Fantastican.

Curled up like an unborn child in its mother’s womb, he lay in the dark depths of Fantastica’s foundations, patiently digging for a forgotten dream, a picture that might lead him to the Water of Life.

That surge of feeling submerged everything that he still remembered of himself. And he forgot the last thing he still possessed: his own name.

‘Your kindness made you feel great, didn’t it? But we paid the bill for your kindness, you great benefactor!’

‘Every real story is a Neverending Story.’

‘There are many doors to Fantastica, my boy. There are other such magic books. A lot of people read them without noticing. It all depends on who gets his hands on such books.’ ‘Then the Neverending Story is different for different people?’ ‘That’s right,’ said Mr Coreander. ‘And besides, it’s not just books. There are other ways of getting to Fantastica and back. You’ll find out.’

You can’t visit Moon Child a second time, that’s true. But if you can give her a new name, you’ll see her again. And however often you manage to do that, it will be the first and only time.’