The Boy, the Bird and the Coffin Maker by Matilda Woods

Author:Matilda Woods
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic UK
Published: 2017-08-31T04:00:00+00:00

Gio looked down upon all of these wonders and tried to think of a name to call the mountain he had just scaled. But before he could, he heard a whisper on the wind and the whisper said this:

Isola.

“Isola?” Gio said. “Yes. That is a name. That is the name. That is the name I shall call my mountain.”

Plucking a ruby flower for proof, Gio returned to the dull world below and began to tell everyone – everywhere – about the wondrous mountain he had found. But even with the proof of a ruby flower, no one believed a word he said.

“It could not be possible,” men would say when they heard about Gio’s latest adventure.

“It could not be real,” women would agree when their husbands told them the tale.

“But it is possible!” Gio would cry when he heard them call him a liar. “But it is real!” he would scream to the crowds that gathered to listen. “I swear it is the truth. Here. See. This map.” He would throw down a piece of parchment and point to a cross in the middle. “That is it. That is the magical mountain: the magical mountain of Isola.”

Most did not believe a single word Gio said.

“The ravings of a mad man,” they all agreed with a nod of their heads.

But some, just a few, looked upon this map and began to wonder if maybe the magic Gio spoke of was not false but real. And so, within a moon of Gio finding Isola Mountain, a small group of men, armed with a map, set out to find it for themselves.

Having reached the end of the story’s first chapter, Alberto closed the book and took off his glasses.

“Can you read some more?” Tito asked. He hadn’t moved an inch during the story and Fia hadn’t either. She’d listened so closely her tail feathers had singed on the fire.

“Not tonight, Tito. I’m feeling quite tired.”

“Then tomorrow?”

“All right. I’ll read you the next chapter then.”

“And the next day?” Tito asked as he helped Alberto return the book to its shelf. “Can you read us another chapter then?”

“I’ll read you one every night. On and on until we’ve read the whole story. Now, Tito Bonito, it’s time for all of us to get to bed.”

“Alberto’s house is looking warm,” Clara said as she peered out the window. The sound of a giant mackerel throwing tiles off the roof had pulled her wide awake. Unable to fall back asleep, she’d taken to staring down Allora Lane, searching for the scent of gossip. “Look at all that smoke.” Four trails rose out of the coffin maker’s house.

Rosa, who had woken to the sight of that same mackerel crashing into her fireplace, hurried over to see. “Why do you think they’re all burning?” she whispered.

“Maybe he’s cold or—” Clara gasped and her eyes widened with horror. “Oh no,” she said.

“What is it?” Rosa asked.

“You don’t think…”

“Think what?” As usual, Rosa was one thought behind her older sister.

“You don’t think he’s started to burn the bodies, do you?”

Rosa gasped even louder than Clara.

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