Free A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness Page A

stupid git deserves all the punishment he gets.”)
    (
I thought so, too
, said the monster.)
    It was shortly after midnight that I tore the parson’s home from its very foundations.

THE REST OF THE SECOND TALE
    Conor whirled round. “The
parson
?”
    Yes
, said the monster.
I flung his roof into the dell below and knocked down every wall of his house with my fists.
    The parson’s house was still before them, and Conor saw the yew tree next to it awaken into the monster and set ferociously on the parsonage. With the first blow to the roof, the front door flew open, and the parson and his wife fled in terror. The monster in the scene threw their roof after them, barely missing them as they ran.
    “What are you
doing
?” Conor said. “The Apotho-whatever is the bad guy!”
    Is he?
asked the real monster behind him.
    There was a crash as the second monster knocked down the parsonage’s front wall.
    “Of course he is!” Conor shouted. “He refused to help heal the parson’s daughters! And they
died
!”
    The parson refused to believe the Apothecary could help
, said the monster.
When times were easy, the parson nearly destroyed the Apothecary, but when the going grew tough, he was willing to throw aside every belief if it would save his daughters.
    “So?” Conor said. “So would anyone! So would
everyone
! What did you
expect
him to do?”
    I expected him to give the Apothecary the yew tree when the Apothecary first asked.
    This stopped Conor. There were further crashes from the parsonage as another wall fell. “You’d have let yourself be killed?”
    I am far more than just one tree
, the monster said,
but yes, I would have let the yew tree be chopped down. It would have saved the parson’s daughters. And many, many others besides.
    “But it would have killed the tree and made him rich!” Conor yelled. “He was evil!”
    He was greedy and rude and bitter, but he was still a healer. The parson, though, what was he? He was
nothing
. Belief is half of all healing. Belief in the cure, belief in the future that awaits. And here was a man who
lived
on belief, but who sacrificed it at the first challenge, right when he needed it most. He believed selfishly and fearfully. And it took the lives of his daughters.
    Conor grew angrier. “You said this was a story without tricks.”
    I said this was the story of a man punished for his selfishness. And so it is.
    Seething, Conor looked again at the second monster destroying the parsonage. A giant monstrous leg knocked over a staircase with one kick. A giant monstrous arm swung back and demolished the walls to the parson’s bedrooms.
    Tell me, Conor O’Malley
, the monster behind him asked.
Would you like to join in?
    “Join in?” Conor said, surprised.
    It is most satisfying, I assure you.
    The monster stepped forward, joining its second self, and put a giant foot through a settee not unlike Conor’s grandma’s. The monster looked back at Conor, waiting.
    What shall I destroy next?
it asked, stepping over to the second monster, and in a terrible blurring of the eyes, they merged together, making a single monster who was even bigger.
    I await your command, boy
, it said.
    Conor could feel his breathing growing heavy again. His heart was racing and that feverish feeling had come over him once more. He waited a long moment.
    Then he said, “Knock over the fireplace.”
    The monster’s fist immediately lashed out and struck the stone hearth from its foundations, the brick chimney tumbling down on top of it in a loud clatter.
    Conor’s breath got heavier still, like he was the one doing the destroying.
    “Throw away their beds,” he said.
    The monster picked up the beds from the two roofless bedrooms and flung them into the air, so hard they seemed to sail nearly to the horizon before crashing to the ground.
    “Smash their furniture!” Conor shouted. “Smash everything!”
    The monster stomped around the interior of the house, crushing every piece of furniture