Fulbridge School is a wonderful place –
welcoming, friendly and creative. The corridors have been expertly decorated
with different themes, lending a magical atmosphere to the school. One of the
best is the volcanic corridor, pictured below, painted by professional artist
Colin Slater. Just a mo! Is that Charlie Small himself, leaping over the
streams of molten lava?
Monday, 25 March 2013
Charlie Small Spotted at Fulbridge School!
Thursday, 7 March 2013
It’s A Tragedy!
I’m not sure I have ever dealt directly
with tragedy in my books. Many have been picture books, and although Baby Duck
may have thought it a tragedy when his teddy bear blew into the cold, grey,
scary pond and there was no one to help rescue it, I don’t know that it would
count as such to anybody else!
Overcoming small obstacles and dealing with new
and scary situations is important in picture books, though, and can help
children cope with new experiences by making them familiar or funny. My books
often deal with difficult situations and emotions through fantasy, but a
fantasy that is firmly rooted in the real world. So, in various picture books I
have been able to portray a cold-hearted boy made entirely of ice who was
created by the continual drip of a stalactite in a frozen cave, and who reacted
violently to any kindness.
Illustrated by Peter Bailey |
Shadowland told of a girl’s serious illness, which
was treated as a strange, haunting journey through her bedroom wall and across
an ocean to a rocky island; Ride The Black Horse was about the dark manifesting
itself as a magician who spirits children away to his vast castle, and it is
only Oliver who is able to overcome his fear of the dark and defeat the
magician.
From Shadowland |
But when it comes to, well not so much
tragedy but certainly disaster, Charlie Small has more than his fair share in
the strange and frightening world he finds himself in. Dangerous characters and
strange monstrous beasts people this world, and when he manages to contact home
using his mobile, his mum repeats the same thing every time.
One disaster occurs when Charlie encounters
the Puppet Master. Charlie thinks he hears his mother calling him, and he
follows the voice across hills and valleys to a petrified forest, where he
finds a cloaked figure hunched over a campfire:
The Puppet Master |
‘Mum?’ I
whispered.
‘Charlie,’
said the figure turning around. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
I stepped
back. Oh, I wished I had stayed in bed at the shop! I wished I’d stayed at
home. I wished I were a million miles from that clearing in the rotted forest,
for, as the sky turned opal white and a new day dawned, I could see a man’s
face; his grey skin and large hooked nose, his fat dry lips and empty black
eyes. Behind him I saw the legend painted on the side of his caravan:
Incredible,
wonderful, and solely for your delight,
THE PUPPET
MASTER!
A maestro
of marionette manipulation!
No! I turned to run, but somehow my feet seemed rooted to
the ground.
‘Don’t go, Charlie,’ smiled the Puppet Master. ‘I have
something for you.’ He dipped a mug into the pot that was bubbling over the
glowing embers of the fire, filling it with a liquid that steamed in the cold
morning air.
The smell was intoxicating. It floated in the air, a visible
blue mist that wrapped itself around my head, filling my nostrils. I knew I
shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help myself. I grabbed the mug from his hand and
drank the warm, syrupy liquid.
The sweet taste flooded through my body, making my fingers
tingle and the breath judder in my chest. The tingling in my fingers increased
to a dull throb, making them feel swollen and numb. I looked at my hands and
gasped in fear. Tiny crystals were forming on my fingers, multiplying and
joining together to form a new, outer skin.
The
tingling sensations travelled up my arms and across my chest, the new skin
forming like a crust as the sensation spread across my body. As the warmth of
the liquid cooled in my tummy and the tingling subsided, I could feel the new
skin start to harden. Now my face began to grow a second, solid skin. I tried to
call out, but my jaw was set as solid as stone.
I couldn’t
believe it! After all the old woman’s warnings I was becoming another of the
Puppet Master’s marionettes. I felt as if I had been coated in concrete, or
squeezed into a tight fitting shell, exactly the same shape as my body… and I
was no longer able to move!
Charlie becomes a puppet! |
That sounds like a disaster to me! Of course, with Charlie being Charlie, it doesn’t end there and with his usual mixture of ingenuity and bravery, humour and fun, he manages to overcome his plight, which is really about his being powerless and trapped in a world he has no knowledge of, far away from home and everything he knows.
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