Maya brought a new yoyo in and showed off tricks with it. Teecher says I’m getting better all the time. Any spelling mistakes are reproduced as they appear in the diary. She included no dates, and though we could have filled them in, we have chosen to present the entries as they were written. Annie was very young when her brother first met Mr Crepsley at the Cirque Du Freak, and these pages were written around that time.
Darren shan cirque du freak free online book archive#
But this is a real story, so I have to begin where it really started.The following diary extracts are part of the Darren Shan archives, made available to us by the archive director. If this were a made-up story, it would begin at night, with a storm blowing and owls hooting and rattling noises under the bed. I don't dare.Īnyway, that's enough of an introduction. I'm not even going to tell you the name of my town or country. I haven't used any real names, not mine, my sister's, my friends, or teachers. well, by the time you get to the end, you'll understand. Everything's true in this book, except for names. One more thing: my name isn't really Darren Shan. I just wanted to make that clear before I began. It doesn't care about heroes and happy endings and the way things should be.
If you fall out of a tree, you break some bones. If you cross a busy road without looking, you get whacked by a car. In real life, vacuum cleaners kill spiders. They'll beat the bad guys and put things right and everything ends up cool. It doesn't matter what they do, because everything works out in the end. In books, the heroes can make as many mistakes as they like. The thing about real life is, when you do something stupid, it normally costs you. Everything I describe in this book happened, just as I tell it. I don't expect you to believe me - I wouldn't believe it myself if I hadn't lived it - but it is. One will become obvious as this book unfolds. I started with that tale from the past for two reasons. They said I was irresponsible, and from that day on they never again let me have a pet, not even an ordinary garden spider. My parents practically hollered the roof down when they found out what I'd done - the tarantula had cost quite a lot of money. My pet was dead, it was my fault, and there was nothing I could do about it. I cried a lot, but it was too late for tears. Needless to say, things didn't happen quite like they did in the cartoon. He squeezed out of the bag, dusty and dirty and mad as hell. I'd been watching a cartoon in which one of the characters was sucked up by a vacuum cleaner. Gave it all sorts of treats: flies and cockroaches and tiny worms.
I played with that spider almost every waking hour of the day. It wasn't poisonous or very big, but it was the greatest gift I'd ever received. When I was nine, my mom and dad gave me a small tarantula.
The baby spiders would hatch after a while and eat me alive, from the inside out. Going to sleep, I used to imagine the spider creeping down, crawling into my mouth, sliding down my throat, and laying loads of eggs in my belly. I had one who made a cobweb above my bed and stood guard for almost a month. Usually, the spider would slip away after no more than a day or two, never to be seen again, but sometimes they hung around longer. When I found one, I'd bring it in and let it loose in my bedroom. I'd spend hours rooting through the dusty old shed at the bottom of our garden, hunting the cobwebs for lurking eight-legged predators. I used to collect them when I was younger.
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