The Neverending Story

by Michael Ende

Atreyu was astonished. ‘Artax,’ he said. ‘You’ve never spoken like this. What’s the matter? Are you sick?’ ‘Maybe I am,’ said Artax. ‘With every step we take, the sadness grows in my heart. I’ve lost hope, master. And I feel so heavy, so heavy. I can’t go on!’ ‘But we must go on!’ cried Atreyu. ‘Come along, Artax!’ He tugged at the bridle, but Artax stood still. He had sunk in up to his belly. And he made no further effort to extricate himself. ‘Artax!’ cried Atreyu. ‘You mustn’t let yourself go. Come. Pull yourself out or you’ll sink.’ ‘Leave me, master,’ said the little horse. ‘I can’t make it. Go on alone. Don’t bother about me. I can’t stand the sadness anymore. I want to die!’ Desperately Atreyu pulled at the bridle, but the horse sank deeper and deeper. When only his head emerged from the black water, Atreyu took it in his arms. ‘I’ll hold you, Artax,’ he whispered. ‘I won’t let you go under.’ The little horse uttered one last soft neigh. ‘You can’t help me, master. It’s all over for me. Neither of us knew what we were getting into. Now we know why they are called the Swamps of Sadness. It’s the sadness that has made me so heavy. That’s why I’m sinking. There’s no help.’