Twilight Tales: Magic meets science in 10 adventure-packed stories

By Atticus Ryder

From 'The Memory Thief' to 'AI Cat One', here are ten adventure-packed stories for six-to-ten-year-olds to spark their imaginations and make them laugh. What will happen to Albert the dancing troll as he finds a new home? Or James as he competes in a daring game of intergalactic snakes and ladders? Maybe the Prankster is more than he seems...&nb

• Language: English
• Publisher: Twilight Cat
• Release date: Jul 12, 2020
• ISBN: 9781838095635

Atticus Ryder

Atticus Ryder is a writer and illustrator. Born and raised in the countryside, he has been a lifelong fan of practical jokes, Lego, colourful adventures and above all else a good story. Atticus currently lives in the big smoke (London) with his family, taps friends on the opposite shoulder and glues coins to the floor. Back in secondary school Atticus had the good fortune to bump into Derik the Dragon from Twilight Tales, whose story helped him to win a prize in a short story competition. Over the years other characters like Lucy, Hoot, The Minor Gentleman and Wolfgang gave him their stories to tell - now they're here for you. P.S. He has met some more travellers from magical moments between the sunset and the moonrise. Look out for their stories in Twilight Tales . . .

Book preview

First published in 2019 by Twilight Cat

Copyright © Atticus Ryder

The moral right of Atticus Ryder to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers.

ISBN 9781838095628

Also available as an ebook

ISBN 9781838095635

Typeset by Clair Lansley

Contents

The Memory Thief

The Dancing Troll

Retry the Fly By

A Prank Gone Wrong

Junk Town

The Leaky Pond

Time to Go

Insider Spider

The Zogs and the Alien

AI Cat One

The Memory Thief

The mist filled the cave with a colourful glow, its vivid wisps writhing over the ground. Two ice-blue eyes flared open as an orb smashed to the ground, releasing another plume of mist. Two ears twitched in the dark, listening to the whispers of laughter that joined the twisting vapours. He hadn’t meant to drop it, but it didn’t matter; there were others. The creature jumped up from his rock chair as his lips peeled back in a grin. Click-click-click, his claws clattered, tracing a familiar route across the cave.

The creature scanned the wall of shelves filled with thousands of glass orbs. Glimmering, stacked in pyramids, they were each no bigger than an apple. The creature drifted down the shelves, letting his fingers skip across the orbs, which released bright waves of colour into the cave as the trapped memories came to life at his touch. A dark gap stood out where the broken memory orb should have stood. He rubbed his hands together in glee. Time to add to my collection.

It was freezing cold in the dense forest, but the creature crept over the ground quick as a flurry of snow. His skin was cold to the touch and darker than the deepest midnight. Meant for the shadows, he’d been taught. The trees parted to reveal a clearing with a ring of wagons parked around a large fire. They were made of wood, with curved roofs, and were painted bright reds and yellows. His blue eyes darted around, watching, waiting. His quick, nimble fingers scooped up some snow and squeezed it into a tight ball. Slinking from nook to cranny, he searched until he found what he was looking for – an open window.

After a hop, he grasped the ledge and silently slid into the room. It was warm and cluttered with shelves of toys and books. Chairs crammed around a little table were piled high with clothes. A small brazier cast orange shapes on the walls. In the only bed at the back of the wagon, a blonde, curly-haired child lay asleep under a thick blanket. Placing the snowball gently on the pillow, the creature began uttering the string of secret words.

And then she opened her eyes.

He leapt back and growled.

The girl pulled the covers up to her chin and stared straight at him. ‘Hello.’

Narrowing his eyes, he crouched low and tried to look fearsome. The girl giggled as his nose wrinkled and a little growl came out, like a cat’s.

‘Grrr,’ she copied him.

Sighing, he stood up. ‘This is just great. A brave girl!’ he said, as she watched and listened. ‘I suppose you think I am a common Goblin?’ He pointed to his chest.

‘No,’ she replied.

‘Oh!’ His shoulders slumped.

‘You’re the Memory Thief. Mother told me not to be scared of you, because you’re lonely. She said that’s why you break into people’s homes and steal happiness.’

Frowning, the Memory Thief snatched the snowball from the pillow. ‘Hmmph. You’re wrong! I am very content.’

The girl cocked her head. ‘Why have you brought a snowball inside?’

Aha! Now here’s a chance, he thought. He placed the snowball back on the pillow and whispered, ‘Think of a happy thought. Anything at all – it just has to be happy.’

As he uttered the secret words that had been passed down from grand-thief to grand-thief, wisps of colourful mist flowed from the girl into the snowball. As the flow ended, the snowball shone brightly and then became clear as glass. He picked it up, feeling the familiar weight of a captured memory, and then passed it to the girl. Laughter echoed in the wagon as she held the orb, enjoying the memory she pictured in her mind.

‘Here you go,’ she offered, handing it out to him. ‘You didn’t steal this one. It’s a gift – from me.’

He looked at her smile, then at the orb, and snatched it up before rolling it over his fingers. A little bit of him couldn’t help but think how nice it felt. No. He told himself. It’s not right! I’m a thief. Thieves don’t receive gifts. But he kept it all the same, and disappeared into the night.

Back in his cave, he placed the orb on the shelf with all the other memories, then sat back. Suddenly the girl’s words popped into his head, Mother told me not to be scared of you, because you’re lonely.

‘I’m not lonely.’ he said defiantly.

Then his eyes drifted to the place where he’d put the orb. Was it glowing more than the others, or was it a trick of the light? The cave suddenly felt very big and the chair felt cold to the touch, even for him.

I am a little lonely, he thought. The tiny pinprick of truth threatened everything he thought he knew about himself. Then he looked at all the other memories he had. He was a thief! Being alone was part of the job, and surely it was worth it for all the happiness he had gathered.

‘No! I won’t look into you,’ he said to the new orb, swivelling away.

Still, a part of him deep down couldn’t help but wonder what the little girl had given him. Stolen memories were always enjoyable. Could this one be any different? One peek wouldn’t hurt . . . he picked it up again. The orb’s enchanting glow shone through his skinny fingers. After viewing the memory, he dropped the orb like a hot coal. It’s me, he realised, growling in the wagon.

He took a step back. The girl was full of joy. This wasn’t right. He was supposed to steal happiness, not give it. He gingerly picked up the orb and buried it under a pile of memories in the lowest part of the cave. It was time to go out again and steal better memories that wouldn’t bother him so much.

Travelling light and fast, the Memory Thief arrived at a town near a small mountain while it was still dark. The town was full of houses nestled together. He could see whispers of memories in the dreams of the sleeping people. His nose twitched. A memory from a boy had a cave in it, just like his. He followed his instinct and slipped down a narrow lane, over a hedge and around to the back door. At the wave of his hand, the lock clicked and the door gently swung open.

In a flash he was standing next to the boy’s bed, and pulled out a snowball from his bag. His nose twitched again. The memory was a delicious slice of happiness tinged with a little fear. He looked at the boy’s sleeping form. Even in the dark he could make out his blond hair, just like the girl’s from the wagon. The thief hesitated, the thought of her haunting and enchanting him all at once. The snow began melting on the pillow. And then, just as he bent down towards the boy’s ear, he felt something else. Another memory, leaking from another dream. And it was coming from next door: an old woman was happily remembering making the boy scrub the floor whilst she ate fat cream cakes. That’s not very nice, the Memory Thief thought, then snatched up the melting snowball and stole her memory instead.

By the time he had pilfered snippets of happiness from all the neighbouring houses, his side was dragged down by the weight of his pouch. It was time for home. Sitting on the ground back in his cave, he undid the string holding back all the glistening orbs and in quick succession touched one memory after another with a greedy grin.

At first, it worked just like normal, and he felt a burst of happiness as each new memory entered his mind. But then something peculiar happened. The happiness faded away like a wisp of smoke and the clear crystal became a snowball again. No! he thought, and nervously grabbed another one, but the same thing happened again – until every new memory he’d collected lay in a heap of snow.

Clenching his fist, he rooted through his collection at the back of the cave and seized the memory from the girl. It was all her fault, he was sure of it. He held the orb in his hands and tried to work out why this memory felt different to all the others. And then it came to him. Normally he was just watching someone else’s memories from afar, but this one he was a part of. He gritted his teeth, stubbornly ignoring the flicker of true happiness that he felt, and stormed out of the cave.

At the very top of his mountain, the Memory Thief stood poised to shatter the orb on the jagged rocks. This was it – he would be free from the little girl’s memory and this feeling that he was part of it. Suddenly, the howling wind whipped the orb from his fingers. Without thinking, he caught it with his other hand and pulled it close. He didn’t want to let go. Not yet. He sat down on the cold snow and noticed for the first time that his gift felt warm against his chest. In his mind’s eye, he watched the girl smile as he growled. Unafraid, the girl had taken a bit of her happiness and lovingly given it to him. Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. A smile tugged at his cheeks.

After a while, he found himself wandering back through the forest until he came once more to the place where he’d found the wagons. He held the memory close, soaking in its warmth. A white blanket of snow covered the clearing, but there was no trace of the travellers or their fire. Standing there in the quiet and the dark, he slumped against a tree.

Time passed and the Memory Thief stopped stealing. He never went back to his cave. Instead he wandered over mountains, through valleys and across countries. Often the warmth of the little girl’s memory guided him gently back to the empty clearing where he had first shared true happiness.

Then, one night, when the winter clouds let the stars peek out, the clearing shone with firelight. The travellers were back. His years of being a watchful memory thief took over. He crouched low, eyes seeking the shadows. Again, the wagons were parked in a circle; he recognised the girl’s home and, again, the window was open. After a hop he grasped the ledge and silently entered. He looked around and felt the warmth creeping into his bones. So lovely – just like it had been before.

‘Hello, Memory Thief,’ said a woman, as she put more wood on the stove.

He scowled at first, but the voice sounded familiar. After a