Read Elise and the Gold Gloop Page 7


  “Ah, yes, quiet right, forgot about that. Well done… Um… Ellie?”

  Elise almost burst with happiness. She was a real princess at last.

  “Can we go now, I’m hungry.” said Smorg.

  “Yes, dog, you can go.” said Auntie Callie. She took a small bottle and a silver rod out of her pocket, closed her eyes and dipped the rod into the bottle. It came out covered in gold Gloop.

  “Goodbye Elise, thank you for everything.” said Auntie Callie and flicked the Gloop towards Elise and Smorg.

  A flash of light blinded Elise and everything wobbled making her feel a little seasick. There was that familiar smell again and she finally realised what it was. She heard Smorg yelp and suddenly she was standing in the Back Lounge. There was soot absolutely everywhere. Elise ran to the kitchen and brought back the brush. She swept and swept, but the soot still marked the floor. Oh, no thought Elise, Daddy will be furious.

  Then Elise had an idea. It was crazy, but then what was her adventure in Porridge Castle? She ran back to the kitchen and grabbed the small pot of Marmite from the cupboard. Elise opened the lid and took a deep sniff. Yes, it definitely smelt the same. She took Mum’s silver salt spoon from the drawer.

  When she returned, Smorg had run through the soot, spreading it everywhere. Elise just smiled and opened the jar of Marmite. She stuck in the spoon and pulled out a big, gloopy dollop.

  Elise thought hard that the Back Lounge was spotlessly clean. And that the entire house was clean and repaired and that Daddy had a new job and Mummy had a new car that didn’t break down all the time and Smorg had a bright golden collar with studs on.

  Wishing as hard as she could Elise flicked the dollop of Marmite at the fireplace.

  BANG!

  Elise was blown off her feet. Her head hit the ground and she saw a flash of light. Soot billowed up everywhere and Smorg barked madly. She was coughing and crying when Daddy and the Man from the Ministry came rushing in.

  “What on earth happened? Are you alright?” asked Daddy and swept her up into his arms. He gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  Elise decided to stop crying. It was the surprise that upset her most and the fact that her idea hadn’t worked. The room was far messier now than when she started.

  “I’m ok, Daddy.”

  “Thank goodness. But what happened.”

  Elise sighed.

  “Well. It all started when I went up the chimney to rescue the cat. Then Smorg and I had an adventure in Porridge Castle. There where Cribbinses and giant spiders and vampires and Mad Auntie Callie. I had beetle armour and a sword and Smorg was blue and he could talk.”

  Elise looked at Daddy. He was smiling. He ruffled her hair.

  “You have such a lovely imagination. As long as you’re alright, it doesn’t matter about the chimney. We can get it repaired some day.”

  Elise looked over Daddy’s shoulder and gasped. The chimney was a big hole with a heap of bricks and soot in front of it. Smorg was digging in the pile of rubble.

  “Gold!” said Smorg. Daddy didn’t seem to hear.

  “Daddy put me down.” said Elise. “Smorg has found something.”

  Elise knelt next to Smorg and sifted through the soot. She found something round and heavy and she pulled it out. It was a gold coin much, much bigger than a pound coin.

  “Here Daddy look; is it gold?”

  Daddy took the coin from Elise. “It certainly feels like gold.”

  “More.” said Smorg.

  Elise scrabbled around in the rubble. Soon she had four more of the big gold coins in her hand.

  “May I have a look?” asked the Man from the Ministry. “I used to collect coins when I was a boy.” He rubbed the soot off on his sleeve and held the coin up to the light. “Goodness!”

  “What is it?” asked Elise.

  “Unless I’m mistaken, this is a 1933 Double Eagle.”

  “Is it valuable?” asked Daddy.

  “Valuable? It’s worth a fortune. And you have five of them. Well, well, well.”

  “Can we keep them?” asked Elise.

  “A very pertinent question, young lady.” said the Man from the Ministry. “Whenever a property is sold, there is a clause stating that all the contents of a house, becomes the property of the new owner. It saves tedious arguments about things left in the house. So to answer your question; yes, you can keep them.”

  The Man from the Ministry turned to Daddy. “I expect this means you won’t want that new job?”

  “Umm… To be honest no.” said Daddy.

  “Pity, you would’ve been perfect. Let me know if you change your mind. Oh, and sell these one at a time through Sotheby’s in London, that way you’ll get the best price. Good luck.”

  That night Elise lay in bed and hugged herself. Everything was lovely. Mummy cried when she heard about the gold coins and how they were rich. Then Daddy and Mummy danced around the kitchen and they all hugged, as Smorg barked and ran round in circles.

  A very quiet small voice spoke in her ear. It sounded just like Auntie Callie.

  “If you ever need help, just ring this bell. Good luck Princess Elise, Bellatrix of the Dawn Star. Oh, and don’t forget your oath.”

  There was a pop and a little jingle. On her bedside table was a small, silver bell with a wooden handle.

  About S.B.Davies

  Why I wrote this book

  At the age of six, my daughter was a good reader for her age, but refused to start reading “proper books” with chapters and no pictures. She was bored with “Horrid Henry” and fairies saving a rainbow yet once more and insisted that she was old enough to read proper books, but every one she tried was “too difficult”. It wasn’t she couldn’t read them, it was the concepts and storylines; they were designed for nine and ten year olds.

  There was another problem too. She wanted to read about girls, yet all the books about girls we could find were twee and dull. My daughter is happy to read about a princess, along as she is a Ninja Princess; happy to save rainbows, as long as it involves a good sword fight or perhaps a well-planned heist.

  After a few months of this, my lovely daughter stopped reading. We tried most of the “first chapter books” that people recommend; all met with disinterest. So I asked her exactly what she wanted in a “proper book”. After much though, she wrote down:

  “Dragons, princess, zombies, vampires, ghosts, but not spiders and it should be funny and scary and have fighting in it.”

  We couldn’t find such a book with concepts and vocabulary suitable for a six year old – so I wrote one. I had written novels before, but not a children’s book, so I had help from my daughter to find the right level. There were other issues too; my daughter was terrified of the idea of ghosts and very frightened of spiders. So I added in the concept of happy ghosts and theatrical spiders that love to perform.

  I POD published a copy and gave it to her. It was a success. After critical review by my daughter and re-writes, my daughter considered it just right. To quote “I can’t believe you wrote this Daddy, it’s just like a real book”.

  She started going upstairs on her own without fear of ghosts and asking politely if I would remove the spider from the bathroom, rather than run away screaming. She started reading again and now, two years later, is a firm fan of Holly Short (from the Artemis Fowl books) and Hermione Granger.

  This is how I ended up writing and epublishing a children’s book. I was amazed by the joy of my daughter at having a book written for her and how much I enjoyed the whole process. I recommend parents who write do this for their children.

  What other books have I written

  Elise and the Dragon

  The second of the Porridge Castle books is currently in progress. Elise returns to Porridge Castle to find Cribbins missing, but before she can find him, she must deal with dragons and flying cows, and she has another run in with Oatmeal Bill.

  Captain Bunce
and the Crabulons

  A ten year old orphan girl is stranded on an awful mining planet. Her only friend, a scruffy dog called Tincan, is dying and needs technical help that only the visiting spaceships can give. In her quest to save Tincan, she gets stuck on ship and whisked off on a dangerous smuggling mission with mad Captain Bunce, Bolton the rude robot and Auntie the computer that doesn’t like working.

  To be published late in 2014.

  Dave Trellis and the Allotments of Doom

  This is a book for grownups so can’t say too much here. It’s about Dave Trellis the world weary steward of the famous St Catherine’s allotment in Huddersfield and the things he has to deal with, such as alien invasions that threaten to destroy the world, stroppy dogs and disobedient daughters. It’s a gentle, funny book that is just the perfect length for a pool side holiday, or propping up that wobbly table leg.

  In process of epublishing April 2014.

  About Me

  I wrote my first book when I was nine. A full exercise book of scrawl about a strange alien creature that caused havoc in my home. I went to university, just about the best thing anyone can do in their whole life, studied Electronic Engineering and Physics and ended up travelling and working in many different places.

  Everywhere I went I wrote. In time I had written three novels and decided to try and get one of them published. This didn’t happen. Eventually technology came along and I could publish whatever I wanted.

  I write books and I try to make them funny, because this is the story I have running in my head, like a film I can’t switch off. It is so much fun I just want other people to enjoy it to.

  So now you have read my attempt to describe the story in my head and I hope you enjoyed it to.

  Advice to young writers

  I am not a famous author, so take this advice as you will. Firstly write. Get it down on paper in whatever form you can. Secondly finish it. I have hundreds of half-finished stories hanging about from before I learnt this lesson.

  Next learn grammar. Anyone who crafts something of beauty or use must use tools and grammar is the tool of writing.

  Now edit. Edit until you begin to hate the writing you loved creating. Then edit it again. No writer has ever created anything without constant and repeated editing. This is the hard part of writing; what separates the classic, loved book from the rest.

  Lastly cut you own furrow. Write what you want to write the way you want to. Like every great musician, a great writer is immediately recognisable, as they different from the rest.

 
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