Neil Gaiman - Stardust

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Stardust

Neil

Gaiman

Also by Neil Gaiman

Novels

Neverwhere Good Omens (with Terry Pratchett)

For Children

The Day I Swapped My Dad for Two Goldfish (illustrated by Dave McKean)

Collections

Smoke and Mirrors: Short Fictions and Illusions Angels & Visitations, A Miscellany

Graphic Novels

(with Dave McKean)

Violent Cases

Signal to Noise

Mr. Punch

Sandman

Preludes & Nocturnes

The Doll’s House

Dream Country

Season of Mists

A Game of You

Fables and Reflections

Brief Lives

Worlds’ End

The Kindly Ones

The Wake

Death

The High Cost of Living The Time of Your Life

Miscellaneous Graphic Novels

The Books of Magic

Miracleman: The Golden Age

Black Orchid

Non-fiction

Don’t Panic! Ghastly Beyond Belief (with Kirn Newman)

As Editor

The Sandman: Book of Dreams (with Ed Kramer) Now We Are Sick (with Steve Jones)

For Gene and Rosemary Wolfe

Song

Go, and catch a falling star,

Get with child a mandrake root,

Tell me, where all past years are,

Or who cleft the Devil’s foot,

Teach me to hear mermaids singing,

Or to keep off envy’s stinging,

And find

What wind

Serves to advance an honest mind.

If thou be’est born to strange sights,

Things invisible to see,

Ride ten thousand days and nights,

Till age snow white hairs on thee,

Thou, when thou return’st, wilt tell me

All strange wonders that befell thee,

And swear

Nowhere

Lives a woman true, and fair.

If thou find’st one, let me know,

Such a pilgrimage were sweet,

Yet do not, I would not go,

Though at next door we might meet,

Though she were true when you met her,

And last, till you write your letter,

Yet she

Will be

False, ere I come, to two, or three.

—John Donne, 1572-1631

Chapter

One

In Which We Learn of the Village of Wall, and of the

Curious Thing That Occurs There Every Nine Years

There was once a young man who wished to gain his Heart’s Desire.

And while that is, as beginnings go, not entirely novel (for every tale about every young man

there ever was or will be could start in a similar manner) there was much about this young man and

what happened to him that was unusual, although even he never knew the whole of it.

The tale started, as many tales have started, in Wall.

The town of Wall stands today as it has stood for six

hundred years, on a high jut of granite amidst a small forest woodland. The houses of Wall are

square and old, built of grey stone, with dark slate roofs and high chimneys; taking advantage of

every inch of space on the rock, the houses lean into each other, are built one upon the next, with

here and there a bush or tree growing out of the side of a building.

There is one road from Wall, a winding track rising sharply up from the forest, where it is lined

with rocks and small stones. Followed far enough south, out of the forest, the track becomes a real

road, paved with asphalt; followed further the road gets larger, is packed at all hours with cars and

trucks rushing from city to city. Eventually the road takes you to London, but London is a whole

night’s drive from Wall.

The inhabitants of Wall are a taciturn breed, falling into two distinct types: the native Wall-

folk, as grey and tall and stocky as the granite outcrop their town was built upon; and the others,

who have made Wall their home over the years, and their descendants.

Below Wall on the west is the forest; to the south is a treacherously placid lake served by the

streams that drop from the hills behind Wall to the north. There are fields upon the hills, on which

sheep graze. To the east is more woodland.

Immediately to the east of Wall is a high grey rock wall, from which the town takes its name.

This wall is old, built of rough, square lumps of hewn granite, and it comes from the woods and

goes back to the woods once more.

There is only one break in the wall; an opening about six feet in width, a little to the north of

the village.

Through the gap in the wall can be seen a large green meadow; beyond the meadow, a stream;

and beyond the stream there are trees. From time to time shapes and figures can be seen, amongst

the trees, in the distance. Huge shapes and odd shapes and small, glimmering things which flash

and glitter and are gone. Although it is perfectly good meadow-land, none of the villagers has ever

grazed animals on the meadow on the other side of the wall. Nor have they used it for growing

crops.

Instead, for hundreds, perhaps for thousands of years, they have posted guards on each side of

the opening on the wall, and done their best to put it out of their minds.

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StardustNeilGaimanAlsobyNeilGaimanNovelsNeverwhereGoodOmens(withTerryPratchett)ForChildrenTheDayISwappedMyDadforTwoGoldfish(illustratedbyDaveMcKean)CollectionsSmokeandMirrors:ShortFictionsandIllusionsAngels&Visitations,AMiscellanyGraphicNovels(withDaveMcKean)ViolentCasesSignaltoNoiseMr.PunchSandmanP...

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Neil Gaiman - Stardust

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