: Daley James Francis
: This Book Belongs To
: BookBaby
: 9781483548753
: 1
: CHF 2.70
:
: Kinder- und Jugendbücher
: English
: 105
: DRM
: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet
: ePUB
A NINE-YEAR-OLD GIRL. A MAGICAL SKETCHBOOK. A HUGE IMAGINATION. A LOT OF TROUBLE. Amy Carr is old enough to know that the men in hard hats have not come to the house to drink tea and chat to her Dad about football. The penny drops when a bulldozer arrives and a medicine ball reduces her home to rubble! Amy finds an old sketchbook in the ruins, and soon discovers that whatever she draws in it comes to life. This opens up a world of imagination, before becoming a national emergency when Amy moves from drawing small playful bugs to giant spiders and dragons! That's when the serious-looking men wearing black suits and shades arrive in the town, with one mission in mind: To retrieve the book and put an end to the chaos. THIS BOOK BELONGS TO is a warm, fast and funny tale of adventure, family and the joys of creativity.

Prologue:

A Book That Could Win a War

My mother once told me that a good book had the power to change the world. I thought she had gone mad. How could the world be changed by a story? Over the course of these pages, I will reveal the one case in which I know it to be true.

The book first came to my attention in September 1942. I was a reluctant Private in the German army, with no intentions on being promoted in such a deplorable outfit. I was happy with my sideline in retrieving objects of historical and cultural importance, and it was this endeavour that led me to be ordered to Berlin, where I was greeted by General Bernard Von Hart, a fearsome bear of a man who was as tall as he was wide, with eyes that could see into your soul. As he gave me my mission, I looked down at the floor rather than face the imposing beast standing before me.

“The Führer recognises your talent and wishes for you to conduct a special mission in France,” he growled.

I love France, so my first reaction was to picture myself sipping wine in a café filled with beautiful people. Of course, France was nothing like this picture now, as my people were busy tearing it apart, and many of the cafés I daydreamed about had now been destroyed by bombs. Anxiety filled my bones.

“Your equivalent in England, an officer named James Carter, is rumoured to be in possession of a book that could shift the balance of the war in favour of the enemy. We want you to find it and bring it back to us, by whatever means necessary.”

James Carter was a familiar name. Truth be told, I was in awe of him. He had beaten me to targets before the war, and was renowned for putting his life on the line to achieve his missions, making him a legend in our field. Sadly, the war had made idolising an English officer a firing squad-worthy offence, so I kept my magazines and newspaper cuttings in a secret place, to appreciate after the war. We adventurers have a great deal of respect for one another, and a mutual understanding that if we are searching for the same artefact, a bit of aggressive competition is to be expected. But like all sport, there is a line that we do not