Coraline [Excerpt]
by Neil
Gaiman (England)
It sounded like her mother. Coraline went
into the kitchen, where the voice had come from. A woman stood in the kitchen
with her back to Coraline. She looked a little like Coraline’s mother. Only…
Only her skin was white as paper.
Only she was taller and thinner.
Only her fingers were too long, and they
never stopped moving, and her dark red fingernails were curved and sharp.
“Coraline?” the woman said. “Is that you?”
And then she turned around. Her eyes were big
black buttons.
“Lunchtime, Coraline,” said the woman.
“Who are you?” asked Coraline.
“I’m your other mother,” said the woman. “Go
and tell your other father that lunch is ready,” She opened the door of the
oven. Suddenly Coraline realized how hungry she was. It smelled wonderful.
“Well, go on.”
Coraline went down the hall, to where her
father’s study was. She opened the door. There was a man in there, sitting at
the keyboard, with his back to her. “Hello,” said Coraline. “I – I mean, she
said to say that lunch is ready.”
The man turned around.
His eyes were buttons, big and black and
shiny.
“Hello Coraline,” he said. “I’m starving.”
He got up and went with her into the kitchen.
They sat at the kitchen table, and Coraline’s other mother brought them lunch.
A huge, golden-brown roasted chicken, fried potatoes, tiny green peas. Coraline
shoveled the food into her mouth. It tasted wonderful.
“We’ve been waiting for you for a long time,”
said Coraline’s other father.
“For me?”
“Yes,” said the other mother. “It wasn’t the
same here without you. But we knew you’d arrive one day, and then we could be a
proper family. Would you like some more chicken?”
It was the best chicken that Coraline had
ever eaten. Her mother sometimes made chicken, but it was always out of packets
or frozen, and was very dry, and it never tasted of anything. When Coraline’s
father cooked chicken he bought real chicken, but he did strange things to it,
like stewing it in wine, or stuffing it with prunes, or baking it in pastry,
and Coraline would always refuse to touch it on principle.
She took some more chicken.
“I didn’t know I had another mother,” said
Coraline, cautiously.
“Of course you do. Everyone does,” said the
other mother, her black button eyes gleaming. “After lunch I thought you might
like to play in your room with the rats.”
“The rats?”
“From upstairs.”
Coraline had never seen a rat, except on
television. She was quite looking forward to it. This was turning out to be a
very interesting day after all.
