The Flying Bedroom E-Book

Heather Dyer

• Herausgeber: Firefly Press Ltd
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 43

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Beschreibung

Elinor's bedroom looks ordinary. But it's not. When Elinor goes to sleep, her bedroom can fly... Elinor never knows where she'll wake up. A tropical island, in a theatre show, helping pirates, on the moon... But her bedroom will always bring her safely home. These magical adventures work equally well for children to read themselves or for parents to read aloud.

Leseprobe

Contents

Title Page

Dedication

Elinor's Bedroom

The Flying Bedroom and the Snowman

The Flying Bedroom and the Island

The Flying Bedroom at the Theatre

The Flying Bedroom in Outer Space

The Flying Bedroom and the Pirates

The Flying Bedroom and the Train

About

Copyright

The Flying Bedroom

Heather Dyer

Illustrated by

Chloe Douglass

For Elinor,

whose bedroom flew.

Heather

For Mam, Dad and Pedro,

thanks for the unwavering support!

Chloe

This is Elinor’sbedroom. It looks ordinary.But it’s not.

The Flying Bedroom and the Snowman

Snow was falling over Aberdovey. Outside, through the dusk, large feathery flakes settled on the empty gardens and the quiet roads.

‘It looks like it’s sticking,’ said Elinor’s mother.

When Elinor went to bed it was still snowing.

‘If it carries on,’ said Elinor, ‘will there be enough to build a snowman?’

‘Perhaps,’ said Elinor’s father.

Elinor lay awake for a long time, watching snowflakes flurrying like moths around the street lights. But eventually she closed her eyes and slept.

And while she slept, her bedroom flew.

Round and round and up and down went Elinor’s bedroom. Snowflakes swirled overhead. A balled-up sock rolled off the edge of Elinor’s bedroom and was lost forever. One of Elinor’s drawings blew off the wall and was carried up, up and away…

And then down, down, down went Elinor’s bedroom until with a ‘bump!’ and a long, slow slide, it stopped.

Elinor opened her eyes. Her bedroom ceiling and her outside wall had disappeared, and the sky was crowded with snowflakes. Elinor put on her rabbit slippers and her dressing gown and went to the edge of her bedroom. The snow was falling thickly. ‘Hello?’ she called. ‘Is anyone there?’

There was no reply.

Elinor made a snowball and threw it into the blizzard.

‘Ow!’ said someone.

‘Oh!’ said Elinor. ‘Sorry!’

Out of the blizzard came a portly figure. He was wearing a black top hat and a red wool scarf and his arms were sticks with mittens on the end. He had two lumps of coal for his eyes, a carrot for his nose, and a pipe stuck in his mouth.

‘Are you all right?’ asked Elinor.

‘I’ve been worse,’ said the snowman. He was rolling along from side to side, leaving a channel in the snow behind him. He came to the edge of Elinor’s bedroom and with a wag of his twiggy arms he rolled right in across the threshold.

‘Whew!’ he said. ‘What a day!’ He took off his hat and his scarf and threw them on the chair. ‘Nice place you’ve got here.’

‘Thanks,’ said Elinor.

‘Mind if I stop a while and thaw out a little?’

‘Not at all. Is it cold out there?’

‘Cold? It’s freezing! But that’s not the worst of it.’

‘It isn’t?’

‘No. The boys are the real problem.’

‘The boys?’

‘Throwing stones,’ the snowman said, ‘and smashing things. You know what I mean?’

Elinor did.

The snowman took his pipe out of his mouth and knocked it on Elinor’s chest of drawers. A little lump of snow dropped out onto the carpet and began to melt.

‘Warm in here, isn’t it?’ said the snowman. His carrot nose was no longer sticking straight out but pointing downwards.

‘You don’t think it’s a littletoowarm,’ said Elinor cautiously, ‘for someone like yourself?’ She had noticed that where the snowman stood, a large damp patch was spreading.

‘Too warm? Not at all! Good for you, a bit of heat. Sweats out the impurities.’

‘It’s just,’ said Elinor anxiously, ‘that I wouldn’t like you to–you know–meltor anything.’

‘Nonsense!’ said the snowman. His words were getting slushier. ‘I’m like my gwandfather.’

‘Your what?’

‘My Gwandfather. He loved the heat. Lived in India.’

‘InIndia?’

‘Met my gwandmother on the twain.’

‘On the what?’

‘Twain! Twain!’ said the snowman. ‘Chug-a-lug-lug!’

‘Oh!Train,’ said Elinor.

The snowman creaked and seemed to shift a little. Elinor got a towel and pressed it on the damp patch. While she was doing this, the snowman’s pipe fell out. Elinor stuck it in again.

‘I sink I’ll shtay a little longer,’ the snowman said. ‘I like it here.’

‘I wouldn’t staytoolong,’ said Elinor.

‘Why not?’

‘You might begin to – oh!’ One of the snowman’s coal eyes fell out and rolled across the carpet. Elinor went after it.

‘Whatsa matter?’ said the snowman.

‘Your eye!’

‘Wot?’ said the snowman. ‘Stand where I can shee you!’

‘Hold still!’ Elinor pressed the coal back into the snowman’s head, where it sat more deeply than it had before.

‘Ah! There you are!’ said the snowman. ‘And look! It’s stopped snowing.’

And so it had. The sky had cleared. The sun was shining and the snow lay still and sparkling as far as the eye could see.

‘P’rhaps,’ said the snowman, ‘I should be going.’

But just then there came a knock at the window – and there was the snowman’s wife, wearing a paisley headscarf and a pair of sunglasses. ‘There you are!’ she cried. ‘Sitting here melting while I’m out looking for you!’

‘Oh dear,’ said the snowman.

His wife rolled in across the threshold. ‘Look at the state of you!’