Foreword
Get ready. You are about to enter more than a dozen different worlds. Some are versions of the world we live in, others are most definitely not. You’ll be passing from one to another, with nothing between them but the turn of a page. Don’t get me wrong, this is a good thing; a very good thing.
All the same, I feel you need some kind of preparation.
One of the first things you’ll notice, when you make a transition from one world to another, is the difference in light levels. You might go from blazing desert sunlight in one story, to dim seaside drizzle in the next. You’ll experience different kinds of darkness, too: the simple dark of an ordinary night; the dark of dimension-crossing storms; the kind of dark that sticks round the edge of the page, like used gum.
Don’t avoid that dark. It’s where you’ll find a lot of the most interesting stuff – dead parents, plagues, assassins, gladiators, goblins, doppelgängers. What’s there in the half-light isn’t all bad, of course. Imaginary babies, dragons and lunatic travelling companions – you’ll find these in the shadows too, but don’t make any assumptions about that. And don’t imagine that sunshine keeps you safe; you’ll find that the sunniest school day or Saturday shopping spree can turn sinister, and that, when you are in the grip of unwanted trouser commotion, daylight is the last thing you need.
You’re going to meet a lot of different characters. Not the kind that are cut out of cardboard and coloured in by numbers. These characters are real people, even the ones with ears like streamers or occasional furry skins. They are lovable, hateable, unpredictable, recognisable. You’ll meet people in these pages you won’t want to leave behind, and some you wish you could.
One last thing: I have to warn you that once you’ve sampled snippets of these worlds, you’ll be hooked, filled with a hunger to know how each story turns out.
I could tell you, but I’m not going to.
Just get ready. Relax. You are in the hands of master storytellers.
Nicola Davies
