The Door in the Forest - Hardcover

Townley, Roderick

 
9780375856013: The Door in the Forest
Hardcover
ISBN 10: 0375856013 ISBN 13: 9780375856013
Verlag: Alfred a Knopf Inc, 2011

Inhaltsangabe

At the mid point of three towns, in the center of three streams, in the heart of a forest, lies a mysterious island. Encircled by quicksand and sewn shut by vines, it is impenetrable to all but the poisonous snakes patrolling its waters. But Daniel is determined to get there, along with his friend Emily.

Emily is a bit mysterious herself. A girl who seems to know more than she can say, whose mother was taken away by government troops, and whose eccentric grandmother reads the future in her bubble bath.

Enter the soldiers. Their menacing commander is terribly interested in sleepy little Everwood. Is he searching for something? A treasure map? The island? The girl?

Roderick Townley spins a magical tale of lies and truths, of secrets kept and secrets revealed.

Sooner or later, we all must step through the door in the forest.

Die Inhaltsangabe kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

RODERICK TOWNLEY has taught in Chile on a Fulbright Fellowship, worked in New York as a journalist, and now devotes his time to writing. His highly acclaimed novels includeThe Blue Shoe, The Red Thread, Sky, and the three books of the Sylvie Cycle:The Great Good Thing, Into the Labyrinth, and The Constellation of Sylvie. You can read more about his work at RoderickTownley.com.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

One

Strangers

Some people claimed it was enchanted; others swore it was cursed; but, really, it hardly mattered what you thought because you couldn’t get to it. The place pushed back against all your attempts, setting out twisted thickets of hedge-apple trees bristling with curved, medieval-looking thorns. After that came ankle-catching thistles, firethorn, baneberry, and poison oak. If at last you reached the creek, you’d peer across at an impervious curtain of leaves that never crisped or fell with the change of seasons, and vines that stitched the island shut like a coat.

From most sides, it wasn’t even visible, a patch of wildness encircled by water and wedged in a tangle of undergrowth.

There was one place you could almost see the island as an island, and that was where Daniel was today, at his favorite watching place on the footbridge over a contributing brook, a half mile from his house. On breezy afternoons, the foliage might swing briefly aside to let him see the green darken almost to night before his sunstruck eyes.

He pushed away a flop of dirty-blond hair and looked down at the line of ripples where the clear water of the tributary met the sullen brown of the stream around the island. Three streams, really, cloudy and bedded in quicksand. That was another barrier, the quicksand. Just ask Widow Beinemann, whose dog jumped in after a stick two summers ago and was sucked down before he could whimper.

Daniel was fascinated by the stories, by the impenetrable green wall before him, and more than anything by the poisonous, white-headed water snakes that wound their lazy S’s through the current. The legend was that the snakes had human faces, though he hadn’t gotten close enough to be sure.

The boy leaned against the railing and felt the wind finger his hair. He had not given up hope of finding a way across. There wasn’t much adventure to be had in the farming town of Everwood; but here was an adventure that had been staring him in the face all his life, and all he could do was stare back.

Imagine exploring this forbidden place where no one had ever been--never, since the moist beginnings of life on earth. It was in this one way like the moon, a land where no one had ever died and no one had ever been born. A place where no one had ever told a lie.

That was important to Daniel, because he too had never lied. It wasn’t that he was especially virtuous. He just couldn’t. He got blinding headaches when he tried. If he tried really hard, he’d get a stomach ache as well. Once, he’d almost thrown up. The doctor didn’t believe him. And anyway, wasn’t telling the truth a virtue?

It wasn’t such a virtue in school, where the other kids called him “the snitch.” That’s when they weren’t making fun of his tall, skinny frame and unruly hair. Girls were especially hard on him. They were full of secrets they didn’t want told. They considered Daniel dangerous, and not in a good way. There was a reason he spent most of his time by himself.

Suddenly he realized there was someone--no, not a person, a heron, tall as a man--standing across the creek, and his heart thumped guiltily, as if he’d been caught by a teacher. Had it been there the whole time, or magically materialized? A great blue heron it was, imperious with its dark cap and accusing eyes. A brush of white feathers flowed back over its cheek like a trail of smoke. Daniel had seen the bird before, always on the other side, immobile on its stick legs, and it gave him a strange feeling, as if there were a special message meant for him alone, if only he could figure it out.

“Fly me across!” he called.

The bird’s pipe-cleaner neck lowered into a tight S and its yellow eyes glared.

“Yes, you!” Daniel yelled. “You can do it.”

“Who ya yelling at?” came a voice behind him.

Daniel whirled around, blushing. It was only Wes, his kid brother.

“Take a look.”

Wesley rested his chin on the railing. “Oooh.”

Being ten, he immediately bent down, picked up a stone, and threw it.

“Stop it!” Daniel snapped.

“I want to see him fly.”

“Leave him alone!”

Wesley’s mouth tightened. “You’re always bossing me around.”

“Sometimes you need bossing.”

“I’m as smart as you.”

Daniel eased into a smile. “No, Wes, you’re smarter. But sometimes you do dumb things.”

Wesley frowned at his shoes. With his sharp, serious features, ironed shirt, and khaki shorts, he looked like a tiny accountant. Actually, he was dressed for summer school. Completely voluntary on his part--he just wanted to learn more about geography, his favorite subject. Daniel had sometimes caught him studying maps long after bedtime. Ten years from now, he could be wearing a suit and living in the city. He might even sail off to those foreign countries he was always reading about. Daniel would still be here kicking around in blue jeans.

Probably he’d still be looking for a way onto the island.

“Come on,” said Daniel. “Let’s go see Dad. We can grab something to eat.”

Wesley glanced at the heron. He had another stone, aching to be thrown, which he turned around in his fingers. He let it drop.

They reached the road, a strip of hard-packed dirt between fields. A tractor puttered by, old Wayne Eccles looking down from his rickety throne. “Hey, boys,” he called. The brothers gave a wave and watched as the contraption continued down the road. They always watched when something with a motor came by, it was so rare. Good old Eccles.

Wes kicked pebbles ahead of him as he walked, but had to abandon that to keep up with his brother’s strides. Sometimes it seemed he was always hurrying to catch up and never could. Couldn’t throw a ball as hard, couldn’t run as fast. It was the curse of being four years younger.

Suddenly Daniel stopped, squinting ahead at distant forms wavering in the afternoon heat. Strangers, he realized. As they came closer, he amended that: strangers from the city. Finally, seeing them clearly: a family.

Daniel raised a hand, but the little group passed without a word or sign, the father pulling a cart creaking with sad-looking possessions, the woman, blank-eyed, holding an infant against her shoulder, while a boy of six or seven walked beside them. He stared at Daniel and Wes as if they’d done something bad to him personally.

The boys stared back. People you saw on the road always gave you a hello at least. But the moment passed, and the family went on, the creaking of the cart diminishing.

“Who were they?” said Wesley.

“Refugees from the city. I saw some yesterday, too.”

“You mean”--the boy hesitated--“it’s starting?”

“Looks that way.”

Daniel picked up the pace and his brother hustled to keep up. “I thought it was over,” Wes said.

“The Uncertainties? They’re never over for long.”

The boys continued on. Soon they came to houses that had yards instead of fields. There was the post office ahead, a building so tiny and tight you’d think it’d been built by the third little pig. After that came the hardware store, the columned municipal building, the old schoolhouse, and then Crowley’s, the town’s one grocery, owned by the boys’ father.

Daniel stumped up the steps while his brother took the ramp at a run. Inside it wasn’t much cooler than out, although a wobbly ceiling fan groaned...

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Verlag
Alfred a Knopf Inc
Erscheinungsdatum
2011
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0375856013
ISBN 13 
9780375856013
Einband
Gebundene Ausgabe
Anzahl der Seiten
245
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Nicht verfügbar

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