A Monster Calls Read Online Free

moist smell of earth and wood and sap.
    “What do you want from me?” Conor said.
    The monster pressed its face close to the window.
    It is not what I want from you, Conor O’Malley
, it said.
It is what
you
want from
me .
    “I don’t want anything from you,” Conor said.
    Not yet
, said the monster.
But you will.
    “It’s only a dream,” Conor said to himself in the back garden, looking up at the monster silhouetted against the moon in the night sky. He folded his arms tightly against his body, not because it was cold, but because he couldn’t actually believe he’d tiptoed down the stairs, unlocked the back door and come outside.
    He still felt calm. Which was weird. This nightmare – because it was surely a nightmare, of course it was – was so different from the other nightmare.
    No terror, no panic, no darkness, for one thing.
    And yet here was a monster, clear as the clearest night, towering ten or fifteen metres above him, breathing heavily in the night air.
    “It’s only a dream,” he said again.
    But what is
a dream, Conor O’Malley?
the monster said, bending down so its face was close to Conor’s.
Who is to say that it is not everything
else
that
is the dream?
    Every time the monster moved, Conor could hear the creak of wood, groaning and yawning in the monster’s huge body. He could see, too, the power in the monster’s arms, great wiry ropes of branches constantly twisting and shifting together in what must have been tree muscle, connected to a massive trunk of a chest, topped by a head and teeth that could chomp him down in one bite.
    “What are you?” Conor asked, pulling his arms closer around himself.
    I am not a “what”
, frowned the monster.
I am a “who”
.
    “
Who
are you, then?” Conor said.
    The monster’s eyes widened.
Who am I?
it said, its voice getting louder. Who am I?
    The monster seemed to grow before Conor’s eyes, getting taller and broader. A sudden, hard wind swirled up around them, and the monster spread its arms out wide, so wide they seemed to reach to opposite horizons, so wide they seemed big enough to encompass the world.
    I have had as many names as there are years to time itself!
roared the monster.
I am Herne the Hunter! I am Cernunnos! I am the eternal Green Man!
    A great arm swung down and snatched Conor up in it, lifting him high in the air, the wind whirling around them, making the monster’s leafy skin wave angrily.
    Who am I?
the monster repeated, still roaring.
I am the spine that the mountains hang upon! I am the tears that the rivers cry! I am the lungs that breathe the wind! I am the wolf that kills the stag, the hawk that kills the mouse, the spider that kills the fly! I am the stag, the mouse and the fly that are eaten! I am the snake of the world devouring its tail! I am everything untamed and untameable!
It brought Conor up close to its eye.
I am this wild earth, come for you, Conor O’Malley.
    “You look like a tree,” Conor said.
    The monster squeezed him until he cried out.
    I do not often come walking, boy
, the monster said,
only for matters of life and death. I expect to be listened to.
    The monster loosened its grip and Conor could breathe again. “So what do you want with
me
?” Conor asked.
    The monster gave an evil grin. The wind died down and a quiet fell.
At last
, said the monster.
To the matter at hand. The reason I have come walking.
    Conor tensed, suddenly dreading what was coming.
    Here is what will happen, Conor O’Malley
, the monster continued,
I will come to you again on further nights.
    Conor felt his stomach clench, like he was preparing for a blow.
    And I will tell you three stories. Three tales from when I walked before.
    Conor blinked. Then blinked again. “You’re going to tell me
stories
?”
    Indeed
, the monster said.
    “Well–” Conor looked around in disbelief. “How is
that
a nightmare?”
    Stories are the wildest things of all,
the monster rumbled.
Stories chase and bite and hunt.
    “That’s